Constant Lovers

by Chris Nickson

  ‘I don’t care if it’s the King’s bloody court,’ Nottingham said, ‘not if there’s a corpse. Is someone bringing it in?’

  ‘Aye, I’ve got two of the men on it.’

  ‘Have you seen her?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sedgwick answered, his face sombre, the pock marks on his cheeks standing out in the dying light.

  ‘How bad is it?’

  ‘Bad, boss.’ He grimaced. ‘Been there a while and the animals have been at it.’

  ‘So what made you think it was Anne Taylor?’

  They were heading up Kirkgate at a crisp pace. As they passed the Parish Church the Constable cast a glace at the churchyard; even in the twilight his eyes immediately picked out Rose’s grave.

  ‘Well, it’s a girl, I can tell that much, and what’s left of her hair is dark. Slender.’

  ‘Was she clothed?’

  ‘Not much of it left, but she had been. I don’t think we’ll ever be able to find out what killed her. I told the coroner. The men will bring her in after he’s seen her.’

  They settled in the jail to await the body.

  ‘We need to see if there’s any way to identif y her and tell the family,’ Nottingham said. ‘They’ll want to bury her.’

  Sedgwick slipped next door for a mug of ale and the Constable pushed at his cheeks with his palms, rubbing away the last of the sleep. If the corpse was Anne it would simply confirm what he suspected. But it didn’t help them find the killer.

  He was still sitting with his thoughts about it when the door opened and two of the night men struggled in with a bundle on a willow hurdle, covered with a wretched, stained old blanket. They knew what to do, and carried it through to the cell the city kept as a morgue. On their way out he gave them a few coins for ale; if the remains were as far gone as the deputy had said, they’d need a drink.

  He went through and pulled off the cover. But after a single glance he had to turn away, breathing slowly and shallowly to keep down the bile rising in his chest. Sedgwick hadn’t said enough. This was far beyond bad.

  Nottingham took a kerchief from his breeches pocket and tied it around his face, trying vainly to keep the stench of death away. The putrefaction was so strong it made his eyes water and he had to keep stopping to wipe them with his sleeve.

  The corpse had been a young woman, he could make out that much, but God only knew what she’d looked like. Her eyes were gone, pecked away, the skin all over her body chewed by beasts. One arm had been gnawed off, the teeth marks still sharp on the bone, maggots and flies crowding around the thick dried blood of the stump.

  He did what he could to try and find anything recognisable in the decomposed flesh, stopping often to clear his mouth with a swig of ale, carefully examining what was left of the body. With what little remained there was no possibility of discovering what had killed her; John had been right on that. He did manage to find a birthmark, a small patch of darker skin on the skin around her hip, but nothing more. It might be enough to identif y her.

  He came out shaking his head and downed a deep cup, not tasting the beer but feeling it swill through his mouth, cleansing it.

  ‘Better get her out of here as soon as possible,’ he said, sitting down gratefully. ‘Find someone to take her tonight. And have the undertaker put her in a coffin with the lid nailed down.’

  ‘Right, boss.’

  ‘This man who found her, what did he have to say for himself ?’

  ‘He hadn’t been around there for a couple of weeks, or so he claimed. He’d gone down to set up some snares, found her and sent word into town. When I got there he was shaking and pale. Couldn’t tell me much, just what he’d found. You think it’s the maid?’

  ‘Probably,’ Nottingham admitted. ‘There haven’t been any other reports of missing girls. Was she well off the path?’

  ‘Aye, in among some trees. She’d been covered with branches before the animals got to her. I looked around but I couldn’t see anything else.’

  ‘Probably nothing else to find,’ the Constable said in an empty voice. ‘There is something more, though. When Rob looked through Jackson’s letters it looked as if he was going to sell his share in the company and leave Leeds.’

  ‘So the pair of them would go together?’

  ‘In the end it makes sense, doesn’t it?’ The Constable poured himself another mug of ale. The taste of death had gone from his mouth now and he could finally savour the drink. ‘If they went off to London or somewhere no one would know them. They could live as man and wife.’

  ‘What about Anne?’

  ‘Most likely she’d have gone with them. Think about all the questions if she went back to her family.’

  Sedgwick stretched in the chair and yawned. ‘All of which makes Godlove the most likely to kill her.’

  ‘I know.’ Nottingham ran a hand through his hair. ‘But I can’t see it. If he did, the man’s a fine actor. Why, John? That’s what I really can’t understand. Why would anyone want Sarah dead? The way I see it, we only have Godlove, or Jackson if she’d decided to stay with her husband. Am I wrong? Have I missed something?’

  ‘We’ll just have to keep digging, boss.’ He yawned again, covering his mouth with his hand.

  ‘I’ll go up to Roundhay tomorrow and talk to the servant’s parents.’

  ‘I’ll go if you want, boss. I’ve met them.’

  The Constable shook his head. ‘No, it’s only right they hear it from me. You go home.’

  ‘I will.’ The deputy stood. ‘One thing I should tell you.’

  ‘I hope it’s good news,’ Nottingham said wearily.

  ‘It is.’ He smiled proudly. ‘Our Lizzie’s going to have a baby. I’m going to be a father again.’

  The Constable laughed. ‘John, that’s wonderful.’ He stood and extended his hand. ‘How is she?’

  ‘As good as ever. She didn’t want me to tell anyone, but . . .’ He shrugged helplessly.

  ‘I know,’ Nottingham said, ‘I felt the same, wanting to tell everyone. Still, at least it explains the gormless smile you’ve had for a few days. Make sure she looks after herself.’

  ‘I will, boss.’

  Sedgwick made a circuit of the city, checking on all the night men before he went home. By the time he finally reached the room it was full dark, the stars generous in the sky. Enough of the moonlight came through gaps in the shutters that he could see his way. After undressing he knelt, stroking James’s hair as the boy slept on, unaware. A brother or sister soon enough, he thought, then crossed his fingers. Too much could go wrong. God forbid he’d lose Lizzie or the baby.

  She was asleep when he climbed into the bed, her body warm enough that he had to roll away from her to stay cool. If anything the heat had increased since night had fallen and he pushed the threadbare sheet down to let the air at his body.

  Once the baby arrived he’d want more time at home, a chance to be with Lizzie, to see the little ones grow. He’d need to have Lister trained by then, assuming the lad stayed – he hoped that he would. Rob was learning quickly, applying himself and doing whatever they asked.

  He reached over to lightly touch Lizzie’s back where it curved out to her hips. Her skin was soft, and she stirred slightly as his fingertips rested on her.

  ‘John,’ she mumbled finally, ‘don’t.’

  With a quiet smile he fell into sleep.

  The three of them were sitting in the jail at six. The air had grown heavier, and simply walking into town Nottingham had felt the sweat rolling down his back, leaving his linen shirt sticking to his skin.

  ‘Did you find anything else, Rob?’

  ‘Nothing, boss.’

  ‘No matter. We know a little more than we did. Did Mr Sedgwick tell you what happened last night?’

  ‘Yes.’ Rob blanched. ‘He did.’

  ‘I’m going up to Roundhay this morning to try and find out if the body is Anne Taylor,’ Nottingham confided. ‘You two work on these missing thieves, we need to find them quickly.
I don’t even know what else we can do on the Godlove murder at the moment.’

  By the time he reached Roundhay village he was soaked from the heat and the horse was lathered with perspiration, eager to drink at the stone trough by the road. He let it have its fill then tied it and made his way to the first cottage. The door was open, and the smell of pottage cooking on the fire made him hungry.

  He knocked and waited until the woman came bustling through. She halted when she saw him and he noticed the expression in her eyes change to one of bright fear.

  ‘You’ve come about Anne, haven’t you?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m sorry, I have. I’m Richard Nottingham, the Constable of Leeds. Is your husband here, too?’

  ‘He’s over in t’ fields.’

  ‘Is there someone you can send to fetch him?’ he asked soberly. He wanted both of them, to give comfort to each other if nothing more.

  ‘Wait,’ she ordered and walked to the cottage across the road. After a few words she returned. ‘He’ll be here soon.’ Awkwardly, hesitantly, she said, ‘You’d better come in and have a stoup of ale. It’s not at its best, I was going to brew some more today.’

  They were words just to fill the space, he knew that, to ward off the ghosts that drifted in the silence, but the drink was welcome as they sat in the shade of the room. Finally a short, stocky man arrived, rubbing at his hands with a dirty kerchief. His arms were well muscled from years of labour in the fields.

  ‘What is it, love? They said you needed me quick.’

  She glanced at Nottingham. ‘This man here’s come out from Leeds about Annie. He’s the Constable.’

  ‘Oh aye?’ Taylor turned and Nottingham could see the anguish in his eyes, the prayer for good news that wasn’t going to come.

  He stood up. ‘I’m sorry to have to ask,’ he said quietly, ‘but does Anne have a birthmark?’

  ‘She does,’ her mother said firmly, fingers reaching out to grip her husband’s hand.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘About here,’ she answered, pointing at her hip.

  ‘What does it look like?’

  For a moment the woman seemed confused. ‘Not like anything, really. Just darker, I suppose.’

  ‘I’m very sorry.’

  Taylor gathered his wife close, never taking his eyes off the Constable. She was huddled against him, her arms tight around his back, releasing the tears that had been building since the deputy’s visit. The man’s face remained stony.

  ‘Where did you find her?’ he asked.

  ‘In some woods, just outside the city.’

  ‘How long had she been there?’

  ‘A while,’ Nottingham admitted.

  The man gave a short nod.

  ‘I’ll arrange to have her brought out here so you can bury her properly,’ the Constable offered. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  The man kept his wife tight against him. Nottingham stood. He had nothing more to say that they’d want to hear. Quietly he made his farewell and left them. Outside the heat wrapped around him like a blanket as he climbed back on the horse.

  Should he go and see Gibton while he was out here?

  ‘Thank you for coming out yourself.’ Taylor was standing there, a man who moved silently, for all his bulk. ‘And for not saying she’d been killed.’

  ‘It was the least I could do.’ He looked at Taylor. ‘I lost a daughter myself earlier this year.’

  ‘The wife really believed she was still alive.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated.

  ‘Never a word of concern from them, of course.’ He inclined his head towards the distance, but there was no need; the Constable knew exactly who he meant.

  ‘To be fair, they’ve lost a daughter of their own,’ Nottingham said.

  ‘Aye, I know that.’ He coughed and spat on the ground. ‘And I went round to say how sorry we were when I heard. Him there didn’t even say he was grateful, never mind that our Annie had been Sarah’s maid for years.’

  ‘Grief can do that.’ He was surprised to hear himself defending the Gibtons.

  ‘Mebbe,’ Taylor conceded with a frown. ‘But then her comes out and starts shrieking at me, saying it must have been our lass who led Sarah astray.’

  ‘Led her astray?’

  ‘Aye.’ He stared up at Nottingham and shook his head in bitter exasperation. ‘Exactly what she said. Made no sense but she’s always been a shrew. Mad, some folk reckon.’

  ‘What about this money they got last year?’ He could see that the man needed to talk, to do anything to take his mind off his loss.

  Taylor spat again. ‘No secret that the man paid for the lass’s hand. Annie told me that herself. Didn’t tell her mother much, mind, but we’d talk sometimes when she visited.’

  ‘And what about Sarah, how did she feel?’

  ‘Not too happy, from what Annie said. Seems she had a young man before, and she didn’t want to give him up.’

  ‘What did her parents say?’

  Taylor stroked the horse’s head between the eyes and didn’t answer for a few moments. Then, ‘Told her to grow up, that they’d arranged a damn good marriage for her.’

  ‘How serious was all this romance?’

  ‘Strong, I reckon.’ Taylor moved, setting himself in the shade on the other side of the animal. ‘She’d been seeing him a little while. Loved him, Annie told me. He was just unsuitable for what her parents wanted for her marriage.’

  ‘Not rich enough, you mean?’

  ‘Aye, summat like that.’ He gave a cold smile.

  ‘Do you know if Sarah gave him up after she was wed?’

  ‘Annie never said she was still seeing him.’

  Nottingham brushed the fringe off his forehead. The hair was damp and stuck to his skin. He debated telling Taylor what he knew. If Anne had confided anything in him, it might help.

  ‘From what we’ve been able to find out, Sarah was still seeing him regularly. They were planning to leave together.’

  The man raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, I’m glad love meant more to her than money, any road,’ he said.

  ‘Did your daughter give you any indication?’

  ‘Not really.’ He scratched his head. ‘Last time she was here she did say Sarah might be with child.’

  Nottingham’s eyes widened. ‘She told you instead of her mother?’

  Taylor smiled wistfully. ‘She loved her mam well enough, but like I said, I was the one she talked to. Allus was that way.’ He sighed. ‘You think the child might be this other man’s?’

  ‘It could be,’ Nottingham agreed guardedly. If she was pregnant by Jackson, then this would be the perfect time to leave and set up somewhere new. They’d arrive as a couple with some money and a baby on the way. Who’d think twice about that?

  Taylor looked thoughtful. ‘And what about Annie? Were they going to take her?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ the Constable answered truthfully. The man had been forthright, and he deserved honesty in return. ‘If I had to guess, I’d say yes. She’d been privy to all Sarah’s plans, after all. She’d always gone with her mistress when she met her lover. They trusted her. So, for what it’s worth, I think Anne would have gone with them.’

  ‘You think our Annie and Sarah were killed because of all this?’

  ‘I don’t know why they were killed,’ Nottingham told him with a weary shake of his head. ‘I’m trying to find out. And that’s why anything I can learn is useful.’

  ‘When you find out, will you come and tell us?’ Taylor asked. ‘Just so we know why Annie had to die.’

  ‘I will,’ Nottingham promised. He pushed his heels against the horse’s flanks and the animal moved off. Perhaps it was time to see the Gibtons again, after all.

  He rode along the drive to the house with his thoughts rolling and tumbling. A gardener was working, scything part of the lawn, arms moving in long, limber arcs. Even though high clouds remained teasingly in the sky, the heat was still g
athering and Nottingham wiped the sweat from the back of his neck.

  When he dismounted no one hurried out to greet him. He tethered the horse and walked slowly to the door, raised the polished brass of the knocker, warm to his touch, and let it fall against the wood.

  It took a minute until he heard footsteps pattering inside and the serving girl opened the door, face flushed with running.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ she said with a small curtsey. She was close to Emily’s age, hair gathered loosely under a cap, her eyes full of worry and work in a friendly, good-hearted face.

  ‘Is Lord Gibton in?’ he asked. ‘I’m Richard Nottingham, Constable of Leeds. I’ve been here before.’

  ‘I remember, sir,’ she replied. ‘Lord and Lady Gibton are gone for the day.’

  ‘Ah well. I wanted to tell them how things were moving in the hunt for their daughter’s killer.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ the girl repeated. ‘They’ll be back this evening, I think.’

  ‘How long have you worked here?’

  ‘Me, sir?’ The girl looked astonished at the question. ‘About a year, I think.’

  ‘Do they keep you busy?’

  Her eyes flicked around quickly, making sure no one was in earshot. ‘They do, sir. There aren’t enough of us to do all the work,’ she said quietly.

  He nodded sympathetically. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

  ‘Alice, sir.’

  ‘Did you see Mrs Godlove when she was here?’

  ‘Yes, sir, course I did, lots of times. She came to visit regular, about every month, her and Anne.’ She hesitated. ‘Do you know what happened to Anne?’

  ‘That’s why I was out in the village. We found her body. I’m sorry.’

  Alice looked down for a moment. When she raised her head again only willpower was keeping her features composed.

  ‘You know they were supposed to visit when she was murdered?’

  ‘I heard that. But I wasn’t here.’

  ‘Oh?’ It was Nottingham’s turn to appear surprised.

  ‘He give us all time off, me, the cook, the footman and the gardener. There’s only the four of us work here, sir. The place needs lots more but the master won’t pay to have more people. Three days, he give us. We all have family local, he said we could go and see them.’