Patrick was unchained from his fellow prisoners, squeezed between two court officers, and marched along the short corridor up to the dock.
His gaze shot to the public gallery and his eyes raced along the crowd of men and women crammed into the small space at the back of the court.
She wasn’t there!
He looked again and bitter disappointment rose up in him, soon replaced by a feeling of powerlessness.
Oh, my God, what had happened to her?
Was she ill? Had Ma Tugman taken her too? Had she been attacked by Harry again and injured or was she . . . ?
He had to stay calm. Any moment now he would be called to give his testimony. He had to keep a clear mind if he had any hope of convincing the court of his story about Sergeant Plant. He had, at the very least, to throw enough doubt on the whole incident to sway the jury.
He glanced across at the twelve good men squashed together in the benches to the side of the judge and his heart sank. They stared across the well of the court at him with tight-lipped disapproval. The judge pounded his gavel on the bench and the room fell silent. Patrick took a deep breath and turned his attentions to the man behind the bench.
Then he rose to his feet and faced the judge. The clerk of the court read aloud the same charges that the magistrate’s official had read two weeks before.
The judge chewed on his gums for a moment then looked down his nose at Patrick. ‘How do you plead?’ he asked, crisply.
Mr Vaneweather, the thin lawyer with the worn cuffs the boatmen had engaged on Patrick’s behalf, jumped to his feet. ‘Mr Nolan pleads not guilty,’ he said, in a strident tone at odds with his insubstantial frame.
The judge’s lower jaw ruminated again. ‘Very well,’ he said at length. ‘Mr Gilchrist, let us hear the evidence in the case.’
Mr Gilchrist, a sallow, paunchy individual, stood and flourished the papers in his hand.
‘My lord, members of the jury,’ he said, inclining his head towards the bewigged judge and then the jury. ‘This is a most distressing case. I am afraid the heinous crimes of this man,’ he jabbed his finger towards Patrick, ‘will shock you as I lead you through the dishonesty, the duplicity, nay, the very immorality of his actions. I will—’
The door at the back of the public gallery burst open and the men and women in front of it muttered loudly as they shuffled to one side to allow the latecomers in. A door at the back of the main court also banged open and several police officers marched to the front of the court but Patrick’s eyes were fixed on only one thing: Josie.
Joy flooded over him and he suppressed the urge to laugh aloud at the sight of her pushing her way to the front.
She was wearing her best dress, with her bright Indian shawl over her shoulders and her bonnet on the back of her head. Worryingly, she had her left arm in a sling and, judging by the small grimace that flickered over her face when she moved it, it caused her some degree of pain.
His eyes ran over her as if he’d never seen her before, noting the sparkling brightness of her green eyes and the pleasing sweep of her cheekbones. An escaped curl had tucked itself around her ear and Patrick remembered how he had woven his fingers through those lovely locks as they streamed over his pillow.
The hubbub of the court faded, as his eyes locked with hers. She smiled across at him and nodded.
Oh, praise the Lord, Annie and Mickey were safe.
Then Patrick noticed who stood behind her: could it really be Dr Munroe? He could hardly believe it, but it was her father who stood there behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders.
The two men stared at each other across the courtroom and Josie’s father inclined his head slightly. Patrick acknowledged it with a cautious nod.
The gavel silenced the court and Patrick forced his attention back to the court proceedings.
The officer, who had just arrived, was arguing with Mr Gilchrist. Patrick stared, and hope flared inside him as he recognised Superintendent Jackson.
The prosecuting lawyer shot Jackson a furious look and then approached the judge’s bench. Superintendent Jackson sat back and crossed one leg over the other while Gilchrist and the judge spoke.
‘Well, this is all very irregular,’ the judge said after a moment. ‘You had better explain.’
Jackson unfolded his legs and rose. ‘It is a grave miscarriage of justice for Mr Nolan to be charged with the crimes laid against him. Motivated by his desire to rid the riverside area of criminal elements, Patrick Nolan came forward and offered information and his help to assist my officers to put an end to a ruthless criminal gang led by a Mrs Tugman, aided and abetted by her two degenerate sons. After a plan to trap Mrs Tugman’s gang was formulated between Mr Nolan and myself, Mr Nolan, at great personal risk to himself and his family I might say, began to set the plan in place. On the twenty-third of September last, when he visited Arbour Square police office to inform me of the time and place so that my officers could apprehend the villains in full possession of their ill-gotten gains.’ Jackson’s face grew dark. ‘Unfortunately, I was not on duty that night so Mr Nolan spoke to another officer. I am ashamed to tell the court, but that officer, a Sergeant Plant, was in Mrs Tugman’s pay and told her of the plan. She then set about secreting stolen items, notably some of the Pettit silver, from the Bedford Park robbery on Mr Nolan’s boat and kidnapped his children to force him to take his boat up river to the Horse Ferry Landing at Westminster that same day. Plant informed the constabulary at St Anne’s Gate police office, who duly arrested Mr Nolan.’ Jackson turned and looked at Patrick. ‘It is only now by the courageous actions of Miss Josephine O’Casey that all the real evidence in this case has come to light.’
Patrick’s gaze rested on Josie. God, how he loved her!
Mr Vaneweather sprang to his feet. ‘I move that all charges against Mr Nolan be dropped and that he be released at once!’ he demanded.
From the lofty height of his bench the judge looked down. ‘Mr Gilchrist?’
The stout barrister at the other end of the polished oak table ground his teeth for a second, then grabbed the side of his black gown and puffed out his chest.
‘I have no further evidence to offer the court,’ he said, with as much good grace as he could muster.
Josie’s heart fluttered and her stomach turned over and over as she stood in the entrance hall of the Old Bailey, her eyes glued to the oak door that led to court number one. Beside her Annie and Mickey could hardly stop from jumping on the spot and Sarah hadn’t stopped crying since Josie and her father had come out of the public gallery and told her that the case against Patrick had been dismissed. Even Gus, who’d accompanied his mother to court, turned and quickly wiped his eyes when he heard the news. Ellen sat with her old friend on the bench while she dabbed her eyes, while Robert and Superintendent Jackson shared a joke over by the staircase.
‘Mam, how much longer?’ Mickey asked for the tenth time in as many minutes.
‘I’m afraid, Master Nolan, there are procedures to be followed, ’ Superintendent Jackson said, as he and Robert came over to join them. ‘They can’t just take your father’s chains off and let him stroll out. English Law works slowly, and with attention to detail, so your father has to be recorded, logged and signed for.’ Superintendent Jackson leant down closer to the boy until they were almost nose to nose, and added, ‘In triplicate.’
Mickey pulled a face. ‘Well, I think it’s daft,’ he announced.
Superintendent Jackson and Josie’s father laughed.
‘You want to be very glad that it does, young Mickey,’ Robert said, ‘because it was Sergeant Plant’s recorded, logged and signed for pocket book that proved your father’s innocence.’
‘That, and Miss O’Casey’s bravery in rescuing you two and discovering the Bedford silver,’ added Superintendent Jackson. He glanced at Robert. ‘You should have heard the ruckus she made in the police station to make them fetch me.’
Robert’s face creased into a smile. ‘I don�
�t have to; I’ve lived with her for twelve years.’
‘Mam was very brave,’ Annie said, as she squeezed Josie’s hand.
‘Aye,’ Robert replied in a softer tone. He put his arm around Josie’s shoulders, avoiding the still tender wound, and kissed her lightly on the forehead.
Josie swallowed. Despite the difficulties of her choice that living out of wedlock with Patrick posed for Robert, he had worked tirelessly, pulling all the strings he had over the last week to try and have the charges against Patrick withdrawn and get him released, but due process of the law had to be observed. She only hoped that any gossip about her living in sin with a married man wouldn’t revive the old scandal about Robert’s marriage to her mother.
But that was for the future, and she couldn’t dwell on that now because every part of her longed for the moment she would be in Patrick’s arms again.
The door opened and Patrick stepped out into the open space. Josie’s eyes ran over him. He was dressed in the same clothes she had waved him goodbye in three weeks ago. Although he was clean shaven and his hair had seen a comb sometime that morning, it was over-long and in need of a wash. But, even so, Josie had never seen him look finer.
Annie and Mickey let go of her hands and, dodging through the black-gowned barristers and the less well-heeled plaintiffs and witnesses, they dashed across the floor and threw themselves at their father. Sarah rose from the bench and joined her grandchildren.
Patrick scooped them up in one movement and held them to him with his eyes shut. They clung to their father and sobbed and he kissed each one in turn as if to assure himself that he was actually holding them. With Mickey and Annie still in his arms, Patrick turned to Sarah and put the children down. He hugged his mother and she sobbed in his chest then she pulled something out of her pocket and handed it to him. He looked at it briefly before hugging Gus for a moment.
He turned to Josie and crossed the space between them in seconds. She smiled up at him and he took her in his arms.
Josie clung to Patrick with her uninjured arm and sobbed incoherently into his chest for a full two minutes and then held him at arm’s length. ‘You’ve lost weight. Are you well?’
‘There, there, my sweet,’ he said, enjoying the way her eyes ran over him. ‘I’m fine and dandy. But what have you done to your arm?’
Mickey spoke. ‘Pa, Miss Josie was—’
‘I’ll tell you later,’ Josie said, as Annie nudged her brother.
Before he could ask any more questions, Josie hugged him to her again. ‘I can’t believe it’s over.’
And neither could he. He kissed her again and then became acutely aware of her parents behind her. Keeping a proprietary arm around her, Patrick stood her beside him in order that they might look slightly more respectable as they faced Dr and Mrs Munroe.
‘Mr Nolan,’ Dr Munroe said offering his hand. Patrick took it. ‘It’s good to see you.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Patrick replied, and turned to Ellen. ‘I’m very pleased to see you fully recovered, Mrs Munroe.’
‘Thank you, Patrick,’ she said. ‘We had a lovely time in Scotland, but we’ve been fair beside ourselves to hear of all the happenings since we’ve been away.’ Her expression was severe but there was a twinkle in her eye.
Some of the tension left Patrick’s body. Ellen Munroe might not reach up to her husband’s shoulder but you’d be better fighting with a tiger than tangling with her if you’d wronged one of hers.
Superintendent Jackson came forward. ‘Fine show, Nolan,’ he said, pumping Patrick’s hand enthusiastically. ‘I’m glad I returned to find out the truth before you had to suffer a spell in the Surrey House of Correction.’
‘Thank you, Superintendent. So am I.’
‘I must get back to the station,’ Jackson said. ‘I still have to catch Harry Tugman. Also, when you’ve recovered from your brush with the wrong side of the law, make an appointment to see me, Mr Nolan.’ The superintendent touched the side of his well-formed nose twice. ‘It will be to your advantage.’
He shook Robert’s hand again and left.
Patrick and Josie turned back to face Ellen and Robert. The fact that they were here was an encouraging sign but Patrick had still taken their daughter from her home to his bed. Any father would, rightly, take exception to that.
He pulled the letter from inside his shirt and handed it to Robert.
‘This is from Mr Watson, chaplain to the garrison in Alexandria. ’ He glanced at his children. ‘It confirms that my wife Rosa is dead.’
Ellen, Josie, and his mother crossed themselves swiftly. Josie turned to him and threaded her fingers through his. He took her hand to his lips and pressed it before turning to her father.
‘I know it’s not the usual way of doing things, Dr Munroe, but I would like to ask your permission to marry your daughter.’
Holding on to Patrick’s arm, Josie stepped through the double doors and out into the sunshine. Mickey trotted next to her while Annie skipped along beside her father. Behind them strolled Ellen, Robert and Sarah. Josie could already hear her mother and Patrick’s making wedding plans, just as they had done years before when she and Patrick were little more than children.
The thoroughfare outside the Old Bailey was packed with a mass of people from bewigged lawyers to city clerks. Sellers of hot potatoes and coffee hawked their wares in raucous voices, while piemen balancing full trays on their heads rang bells to attract buyers. But Josie barely saw or heard the hustle and bustle - every part of her was focused on Patrick.
There had been times in the past weeks, in the dead of night when her need for Patrick had robbed her of sleep, when she had almost despaired of this moment. But now he was here, close beside her, and she was holding his strong arm. Yet she couldn’t quite believe that all the fears and dangers of the past months were over and soon they would be married.
Josie almost gave in to the overwhelming urge to throw her arms around Patrick and kiss every inch of his face, but of course she couldn’t. Her parents might have accepted what had gone on in their absence, but that didn’t mean they would sanction its continuation. She would have to live the life of a respectable young woman until her father gave her away at the altar. As her eyes ran over the firm line of Patrick’s jaw and the shape of his mouth, Josie hoped that they could have the banns read soon.
As if sensing her gaze on him, Patrick turned. He placed his hand over hers and she smiled up at him. In fact she’d done nothing but smile since the judge smacked down the gavel and dismissed the charges. And if that weren’t reason enough to smile, when Patrick produced the letter proving he was free to marry, Josie thought her heart would burst with happiness. It also meant she didn’t have to tell Ellen and Robert just yet that they were to be grandparents.
Patrick stopped the party at the top of the steps and drew in a deep breath. ‘I didn’t think I’d feel the sun on my face for a very long time,’ he said, tilting his head back to feel the autumn warmth.
‘Well, if it hadn’t been for Josie, you probably wouldn’t,’ Sarah said, taking hold of Mickey before he ran down the steps into the road.
Patrick’s right eyebrow rose and he gave Josie a questioning look. ‘And just what did you do, may I ask?’
Josie laughed. ‘It’s a long story.’
‘And one you’d be better off hearing after a good meal and a brandy, I can tell you,’ her father cut in. ‘If you all stay here, I’ll fetch us a cab or two,’ Robert said, walking off towards Ludgate Hill.
Suddenly, there was an uproar at the bottom of the stairs as the milling crowd objected to someone pushing between them. Men shouted, a woman screamed, and a young man was sent sprawling to the floor. Josie turned.
There was something familiar about the stocky figure shouldering his way through the throng. At first, seeing the ragged jacket and dirty face and hair, Josie thought he was one of the vagrants she’d seen begging for a few coppers from passers-by as she went into the court. But then he raised his
head, and Josie found herself gasping for breath as Harry Tugman climbed the stairs towards them. He acknowledged her recognition with a crooked, crazed smile.
Two women selling lavender on the steps screamed and dropped their baskets. The lilac-coloured stems scattered and Harry crushed them underfoot. For a brief moment their heady fragrance filled the air. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a gun.
‘Patrick!’ Josie screamed.
Patrick turned and, pushing Josie aside, sprung at Harry. He collided with him just as Harry squeezed the trigger and the hammer ignited the charge. There was a flash and an-ear splitting crack as Josie shielded the children. A lawyer on the step above them shrieked and fell to the floor.
Patrick grasped Harry’s arm and bent it upwards, twisting his wrist as he did so to force him to drop the weapon. But Harry, with the strength of the deranged, held on, his face flushed purple and hatred contorting his heavy features.
A Glimpse at Happiness Page 37