The sergeant was at his desk writing up reports when Robert arrived. ‘What’s the rush?’ he asked.
Robert took a deep breath, ‘Well, there’s rather a lot been going on up the dale today. I’ll fill you in with what’s happened, and then I’m going to need your help.’
‘Sounds interesting.’
Robert recounted the events of the day and made the case for arresting Henry Forster.
‘Yes, you’re right. We need to bring him down here for questioning. I’d better come with you, just in case he doesn’t come willingly.’
They went to Burnside Hall together to make the arrest. The sergeant stayed with the horse and police carriage, which he strategically placed to block the gateway, while Robert went to the door and asked to see Henry. The housemaid went to fetch him. Sir Thomas had spotted the police constable walking up the drive and, wondering why he was visiting, went to the hallway to find out.
‘Good afternoon, Robert. To what do we owe the pleasure?’
‘Sir Thomas, it’s Henry that I’ve come to see. Ah, here he is!’
Henry approached the men and said, ‘Good afternoon, Constable. What can I do for you?’
‘Henry Forster, I’m arresting you for the attempted murder of Francis Collins.’
Henry looked shocked. ‘Attempted murder?’ he repeated. The colour drained from his face.
‘Yes, attempted murder. Mr Collins is alive and well, and he has named you as his attacker.’
‘He’s lying.’
‘Henry, you’re going to have to come with me to Stanhope for questioning. If you have anything to say, you can say it there.’
At that moment, Lady Margaret came in from the garden carrying a bunch of cut flowers, the first daffodils of the year. Her smile disappeared when she saw the men’s faces and realised that something was seriously wrong. Sir Thomas went over to his wife and took her arm. ‘Margaret dear, our son has been arrested.’
‘Our Henry, whatever for?’
‘For attempted murder.’
Lady Margaret dropped the flowers and they scattered all over the hall carpet. She stared, open-mouthed, at her son and eventually said, ‘Henry, what have you done?’
Her knees gave way as she fell into a faint.
While all eyes were on Lady Margaret, Henry ran past them all and out of the front door. Robert gave chase. The hall had a high-walled garden and he knew the only way out was through the main gate which he ran towards. Before Robert reached it, he saw the sergeant grab Henry as he tried to leave the grounds and, by the time the constable reached them, Henry was in handcuffs.
***
When they returned to the police house with their prisoner, the policemen explained the charge to Henry. They told him that if he was found guilty, and that was very likely when there was a victim who could testify in court, he would probably spend the rest of his life in a prison cell.
‘What can I say or do to stop that from happening? Can my father help?’
‘Not this time, I’m afraid you’re going to have to stand trial. Your best hope is to confess and hope the judge reduces the sentence. You might be lucky and get off with twenty years.’
Henry had been to the gaol at Durham. He had gone with some school friends to watch the last public hanging there back in 1865. What a hash they’d made of that! The rope had snapped, and the poor fellow had fallen to the ground. The prison officers had to find another rope and they hanged him successfully at the second attempt. Even though the man had been a wife-killer, the crowd had felt sympathy for him having to go through that.
And Henry had gone back again to take the locket for Kate. The stench of the prisoners had horrified Henry and he had been disgusted when he saw them scratching at lice in their hair and urinating in the exercise yard. He couldn’t spend a week in there, never mind twenty years. Twenty years. That would make him nearly fifty by the time he got out — and that’s if he got out. If he survived prison, he would be an old man. What life would there be left for him after the age of fifty?
A clerk entered the room and said, ‘Mr Bainbridge is outside. He says Sir Thomas has instructed him to come and represent Mr Forster.’
‘You’d better show him in,’ replied the sergeant. He turned to Henry and said, ‘You’re entitled to see a solicitor. He’ll advise you what your best course of action is under the circumstances. Attempted murder is a serious charge, so listen carefully to what he has to say.’
The policemen left the room and Mr Bainbridge entered.
Without any words of greeting, Henry asked, ‘Is it true that I’d get a life sentence for attempted murder?’
‘If you’re found guilty by the court, then yes, that would be the most probable outcome.’
‘What if I was found guilty of murder?’
‘Then you would be hanged.’
‘Thank you for coming, that’s all I need to know. I can’t spend the rest of my life in gaol.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked the solicitor.
‘I’m going to confess to all of my crimes. That will get me hanged.’ He scoffed. ‘I’d rather hang and have a quick death than rot away in that hellhole.’
‘I strongly advise you against doing that, Mr Forster.’
‘I’ve made up my mind.’
Henry shouted, ‘Constable!’
‘But Henry, think about your parents…’
The policemen came back into the room and Mr Bainbridge left without saying another word.
Henry was certain that what he was about to do was for the best. Just the thought of the gaol made him feel dirty and itchy. He had heard of men being beaten, and worse, in gaols. Being from a wealthy family and having attended a public school, he was sure he would be targeted. And he would always be looking over his shoulder in case the gentlemen he owed money to had men inside. He would confess everything, he would tell the policemen the full story, and that way they would have to hang him.
‘Alright, I’ve decided to confess. I’ll tell you what I’ve done.’
‘I’m pleased you listened to Mr Bainbridge. You’ll get a lighter sentence with a confession,’ said Robert. ‘Did he tell you to say that Mr Collins fell down the hole accidentally when you hit him?’
‘You don’t understand, Constable. I’m not going to confess to the attempted murder charge. I’m going to confess to everything that I’ve done, all of my crimes.’
‘You don’t need to do that, Mr Forster. You’ll just be on trial for attacking Mr Collins and leaving him to die. Anything else will just increase your sentence.’
‘Yes, I do need to do this. Are you ready?’
The clerk was asked to come into the room to take notes, and Henry began his confession.
After he had finished, the sergeant asked, ‘Is that everything you want to say?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, well,’ said Robert, as he rubbed his hands over his head.
The sergeant read out the charges against Henry and said, ‘You will stand trial at Durham. You will spend the night in custody here at Stanhope, and you will be transferred to Durham gaol tomorrow where you will stay until your trial.’
‘Can’t I stay here until the trial?’ pleaded Henry.
‘I’m afraid not. We only have one cell and it might be needed before then.’
‘How long will it be — until the trial?’
‘Possibly next month if everything’s ready by then, or it could held over until the September sessions.’
‘But that’s four months away!’ Henry exclaimed, with a look of horror on his face. He started to pull at his hair. He hadn’t realised he would be imprisoned at Durham until the trial. All his fears of gaol came back to mind.
‘Come on, I’ll take you to the cell now.’
Henry followed the sergeant to the back of the police station and sat down in the cell as the key was turned in the lock. He put his head in his hands and, for the first time in years, he cried.
***
Robert had b
een shocked by Henry’s words but, as he read the confession, he thought that everything made sense now. He had caught the right man. Even so, he couldn’t gloat. His thoughts were with Sir Thomas and Lady Margaret. He would have to call at Burnside Hall on his way home and tell them that their only son had made a confession, that he would be put on trial at Durham and that he would probably hang.
Chapter 36
Moorside Cottage, Westgate
April 1874
After his accident in the mine, Tom had been laid up for nearly two months while his leg healed. When he finally got up, it had taken another couple of months before he could walk properly again. His leg muscles had wasted from not been used for so long. It had been a frustrating time for Tom, but Mary had been by his side supporting him throughout his recovery. He couldn’t thank her enough for everything she had done for him.
During his convalescence, he hadn’t been idle. He had taken walks twice daily, just short ones at first to get his leg moving and longer ones as he got stronger. He had enjoyed walking with Mary by the burn and searching for ‘bonny bits’ to build a rockery in the garden. They had found some nice pieces of fluorspar and quartz that hadn’t been worn too much by the water. Mary had liked looking for fossils in the shale and sandstone. All their finds had been piled up in the shed until they had plenty to build a rockery.
Tom still walked with a slight limp, which the doctor was confident would improve once his muscles regained their strength, and he had a pink scar on his brow about an inch long. Considering the severity of his injuries, he had recovered very well, although he still hadn’t regained his memory of what had happened in the mine that day.
With Mary’s help, Tom had also managed to make a crib for the baby. It was made from oak and it had rounded feet so that it could be rocked from side to side. He was very proud of it and it made him feel that he had done something useful while he was off work.
Seeing Mary’s body shape change with her pregnancy intrigued Tom. He could imagine the baby growing inside her and he could feel it moving when he put his hand on her bump. He thought about the accident that had nearly taken his life and robbed him of this experience. He was lucky to be alive and couldn’t wait to see his child. It didn’t matter to him whether it was a girl or boy. All he wanted was for Mary and the baby to be well.
Tom was very grateful to his mother for helping them through this difficult time. As well as looking after Josie and doing the housework, Jane had paid their rent and bought food for the family while Tom was unable to work. Joe had helped by seeing to things at High House Farm, freeing up his mother so she could stay with them for a while after the accident. Jane had continued to call on them regularly since then, and this morning was no exception. She had popped over from the farm to bring some eggs and milk.
As they chatted in the kitchen, Tom said, ‘I think I should go back to work now. I’m feeling much better and I can get around quite well.’
Jane had been expecting this day coming and surprised them both by saying, ‘Have you thought about coming back to High House Farm?’
‘And work for Joe? I don’t think so,’ said Tom, folding his arms in front of him.
‘Joe and Connie have been living at Springbank Farm since Mr Peart died. Joe’s trying to help out as much as he can at home, but he has a lot to do over there as well. He can’t keep both farms going indefinitely, even with the lads that work for him. They’re stretched too thin.’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t done much farming,’ said Tom.
‘You know plenty about farming. You’ve been helping us since you were a little lad,’ replied his mother. ‘Have a think about it. You could take over the lease when it expires.’ She hesitated before adding, ‘And I could get a cottage in the village.’
It was obvious that Jane had given this a lot of thought, and the least Tom could do was agree to consider it. ‘Alright, I’ll think about it.’
While Jane was still at the cottage to see to Josie, Tom asked Mary if she would like to go out for a walk and, as soon as they were outside, he asked her, ‘What do you think about High House, and the farm?’
‘I’d rather you were farming than mining, Tom. It’s safer,’ she replied. ‘And High House would be a great place for the bairns to grow up. You loved it there when you were a boy.’
‘What about Joe? He’ll have to help at High House sometimes and I’ll have to help out at Springbank Farm — at hay time and shearing mainly.’
‘I don’t care for Joe anymore. Surely you know that. As far as Josie is concerned, you are her father, not him. Don’t let Joe stop you from doing this, if it’s what you want to do.’
‘I must admit I’ve been a bit worried about getting a job to be honest. The lads couldn’t hold me place open until I got better. Watson said they’ve taken on someone else. You know, there’s not much work for lead miners in the dale now. A lot of the mines have closed. There might be work at Boltsburn or Killhope — they seem to be doing alright — but there’s nothing near here. Anyway, they’ve got the pick of the men, so why would they take me on?’
‘Tom, you were good at your job, you were just unlucky. There’s no reason why they wouldn’t take you on. The accident wasn’t your fault — and you’re getting stronger all the time,’ Mary reassured him. ‘And I know you love the job.’
Tom thought that the lead industry was dying in Weardale. So many miners were struggling to find work and he knew of a few men that had moved their families to the east side of County Durham, to work in the coal mines there. Some had emigrated to America, Canada or New Zealand to start a new life. Could he leave the dale and take his family abroad?
Wanting at least to make Mary aware of their options, he said, ‘There are mines in other places. Tow Law isn’t far from the here and there’s plenty of work in the coal mines over that way, and it’s decent pay. The mining is a bit different though, but I’m sure I’d get used to it. Or there are lead mines in America and the work would be the same as what we do here. It’s expensive to get passage over there now and land’s dearer than it used to be.’
Mary could tell by Tom’s voice that he wasn’t keen on going to the Durham coalfield or to America. She loved the dale and would much prefer to stay here, and she sensed her husband felt the same way.
They continued in silence, each weighing up the options in their minds. They stopped as a peewit walked across the path in front of them, followed by a line of chicks.
Tom turned to Mary. ‘With the way the mines are going, farming would give us more security, even a leased farm. And you’re right, farming is safer and healthier than working underground. Me parents were happy at High House Farm and it brought in a decent income. If you agree, I think we should take Mother up on her offer.’
‘Aye, Tom. I think that’s a good choice,’ said Mary, smiling at him. ‘But I don’t want Jane moving into the village. She’s helped us out so much. I’d like her to stay at the farm — High House is her home.’
Tom nodded, ‘She’d hate living down in the village after spending most of her life on the hillside.’
Mary took hold of her husband’s arm and they walked back to the cottage, feeling much better for having decided what to do.
As soon as they walked through the door, Jane gave them a questioning look and said, ‘Well?’
Tom said, ‘We’ve talked about it and, aye, we’d like to take on the farm. But we’ve got one condition…’
‘What’s that?’
‘That you stay at the farm with us. We don’t want you moving down to Westgate.’
With relief written all over her face, Jane said, ‘Aye, lad. I’d like that. Thank you.’
Chapter 37
High House Farm, Westgate
May 1874
Mary loved the little cottage on the hillside and was sad to be leaving it, but she was excited about moving to High House Farm. The old farmhouse had thick stone walls, a stone-tiled roof, large fireplaces and low ceilings. There were fou
r bedrooms upstairs and a parlour, a large kitchen and a larder downstairs. The garden consisted of flowerbeds at the front of the house and a vegetable patch to one side. At the back of the house was the farmyard with various outbuildings, including a large barn.
Tom and Mary shared a room overlooking the front of the house, so she could see the garden and the view down the valley from the window. Tom had already placed the crib he had made by their bed, even though it wouldn’t be needed for a few months yet. Josie had the room next door.
A few weeks after they had moved in, Mary heard someone knocking at the door and went to see who was there. She was surprised to see her brother standing on the doorstep.
‘Hello, Mary,’ said William.
‘Come on in. What a nice surprise!’ She showed him into the kitchen and he took off his boots by the door. She gestured for him to take a seat at the table, then filled the kettle and put it on to boil before sitting down next to him.
‘So, what brings you here?’ she asked.
‘Annie asked me to come down to see you. I’ve got something to tell you. Father passed away yesterday.’
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