Gabriela served a late breakfast of plum porridge, richly spiced and delicious. I ate three bowls of it, much to her satisfaction. ‘This how a man eat, Samuel,’ she scolded her son, who had picked out all the currants and dotted them along the rim like dead flies. Then she bowed him to her breast and kissed his head, running her hand through his curls. ‘Belo,’ she smiled, her long scar puckering her face. Sam said nothing. But he closed his eyes for a brief moment, and smiled too.
A quick pipe and a pot of strong coffee, and I was eager to return home. Fleet had already thrown off his boots and was snoring softly in a hammock, recovering from the night’s work. Kitty kissed Gabriela goodbye and we headed down the stairs.
‘Could I not go with them, Ma?’ Eva begged her mother. ‘Mr Hawkins promised to make me a lady.’
What the devil…? Kitty and Gabriela stabbed me with a look. I raised my hands in protest.
‘I would make a fine gentlewoman,’ Eva trilled, swishing her gown and fanning herself with her hand.
‘A fine strumpet,’ Sam muttered, dodging a slap as he ran for the stairs.
‘You stay here with me, Eva,’ Gabriela said firmly. ‘We put you out in the world, I think you break it.’
I kept my borrowed hat low over my eyes as we reached Covent Garden. Most of the passersby did not recognise me in such mean clothes. Those who did seemed wary and puzzled. How simple it had been yesterday when I was the monster, arrested and dragged to gaol by Gonson’s men. They did not like me any better today, walking free about the streets in my eccentric suit of ill-matched clothes. No doubt the news of my enquiries had spread, creating even more confusion. What should they make of me? Was I to be pitied? Reviled? Feared? No one knew. And so they kept their distance, until they had an answer on which they could all agree. And God help me, I had best find Burden’s killer before then. This was how mobs were born. Confusion and fear, and then a swift, angry decision. That one. He’s to blame.
It struck me that both Fleet and the queen would be interested to see how I resolved my troubles with Burden’s family. I had proved my reckless courage, protecting Henrietta Howard from her husband. Now my skills of reasoning would be tested as I searched for the killer. If I was successful, I would have proved myself useful to them. If I failed, I would most likely hang. It was a provoking thought.
I followed Kitty into the shop to hunt for paper. She was standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips, staring up at the shelves. She picked up a pamphlet, dropped it back on its neat pile. ‘Someone has been in here…’ she murmured. She ran through the shop to the barren printing press, walking around it and frowning.
‘Is anything stolen?’ I asked, puzzled. ‘Everything seems in order…’
‘Perfectly in order.’ She trailed a finger over the press, looking for dust. ‘I have never seen it so clean and tidy.’
‘Thank you, miss.’ Alice appeared from the back storeroom carrying a mop and bucket, her gown hoicked up to her knees. Her face was hot, and stuck with straggles of blonde hair that had escaped from her cap. She gave a jump when she saw me and quickly untucked her gown, swishing it back below her ankles. ‘I’ve cleaned the whole house, top to bottom. Walls, floors, windows… Jenny was a good girl, but I must say…’ she sniffed, not saying. ‘That… boy wouldn’t let me in his room.’ Her eyes flickered to the door, where Sam was leaning against the frame. ‘Not that I care. As if I have any interest in touching anything of his.’ She scrubbed the mop back and forth with some violence, though the floor was clean enough to host a ball.
Kitty stared about her in astonishment. ‘You must have worked all night.’
‘I work hard, miss,’ Alice said, pleased. ‘Always have. And it was either that or lie in bed and wait to be murdered by someone. So I lit some candles and, well. As you see.’
I asked Alice to heat a few buckets of water. Kitty had bathed back in St Giles, but I could still smell the river stink on my skin. I found a sheaf of paper and took it upstairs to my desk. Sam trailed after me like a shadow. He seemed confused.
‘Mr Hawkins. If I’d wanted to kill her…’
‘That is not a happy way to begin a sentence, Sam.’
‘Why would she feel safer washing the floor?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ I sighed, dipping my quill. ‘But we have a clean house for it, so my thanks for that.’
‘But…,’ Sam looked bewildered. ‘It would be easier,with the mop and bucket. I could use them to wash the blood after and…’
I fixed him with a look.
‘There’s no reason to it,’ he muttered and slunk up to his room.
I wrote a note to Budge, explaining that my meeting with Howard had not gone as hoped. I must find some other way to defeat him, given I could no longer attempt to befriend the devil. My only consolation was that he had not guessed I was working on the queen’s behalf. I asked Budge to supply the names of Howard’s cronies and enemies, old neighbours and creditors. And then I sat back, despondent. Howard’s murderous attack on the barge should have been more than enough to hook the bastard, but he was a nobleman. He could not be shamed or blackmailed by such behaviour. A light skirmish with a disgraced gentleman and his whore, no doubt that is how he would describe the matter.The court would shrug its shoulders and return to its card game.
I closed my eyes, transported back to the cabin, Kitty’s torn sleeves and terrified expression. Howard’s eyes, cold and mocking. I could tear out his throat for it. At least she had fought free. Perhaps he would think twice before threatening a woman again; but I doubted it. It seemed to be his greatest pleasure in life.
I sealed the letter and called up to Sam to collect it. By the time I was done, Alice had filled the tub by the fire with steaming water, adding a few splashes of milk to soften it. ‘Thank you, Alice,’ I said, but she’d fled before I’d even loosened my cravat. It amused me for a moment, until I remembered what her last master had forced her to do.
I eased myself into the water and gave a soft moan of relief. My body ached from head to foot: my shoulders still stiff from Gonson’s chains, the bump on my head throbbing softly. I lay dozing in the water until it turned cool, then soaked the last of the filth from my skin. I would have scrubbed the entire night from my bones if I could.
After a hasty shave I reached for Samuel Fleet’s old banyan. Kitty had liberated the old red dressing gown from the Marshalsea, along with Fleet’s indecipherable papers and the poesy ring, which she wore always on a chain about her neck. The banyan had been too large for him; he’d had to wear the sleeves rolled. I didn’t have the heart to turn them back down to my wrists.
I built a pipe and trailed to the window, shivering in the cool air. Stephen Burden was walking up towards his home in his father’s suit, a sword dangling about his legs and tripping his ankles. No one had taught him to fix it well; it needed tightening. I thought of my own sword, lost on the river. I must buy a new one.
Once Stephen was inside I opened the window and called to the street boys watching the house. One hung back, still afraid, but his bolder brother ran through the dusty road and gazed up at me.