‘I think so Sir.’ Josiah sat down and took out his notebook and pencil. ‘I’ll take notes if I may but they will be confidential between us.’ Abram nodded.
Where to start. During the walk back to the office, two questions had concerned Josiah: why had sulphur been on the step of that storeroom and why did Abram Hailsworth feel the need to make saltpetre on site? Concentrate on the saltpetre first, he thought.
‘Mr Bridges has shown me your patent blasting candles, most ingenious if I may say so.’
‘Thank you. I like to think they are.’
‘When I was walking here, I came across a store of what the men said was saltpetre. Disgusting stuff. I understand you make it on site in beds near the river?’
‘True.’
‘Was Elijah right? Was it effluent from those beds that killed the fish in the river?’
‘A very unfortunate accident which I regret. The beds require water from the river but we built them inside clay banks to prevent any run off getting out of them but after several days of steady rain and they overflowed. We’ve taken steps to see that it can’t happen again.’
‘Do all powder mills make their own saltpetre?’
‘It used to be made in this country.’
‘Used to but not now?’
‘No it’s normally imported from overseas.’
‘Why don’t you do the same?’
‘I didn’t see the need. As Mr Arlon implied the other evening, the old ways can sometimes be just as good.’
Not my experience, thought Josiah. People don’t go to the expense and trouble of importing vital commodities they need in their factories if there is a good way of making them near to home. If others import saltpetre it will be for a good reasons like quality or reliability of supply.
‘Where abroad would you get it from if you had to?
‘India. It’s not the nearest source but it’s the most reliable and the East India Company already brings it into Whitehaven for the Cumbrian mills.’
‘Isn’t this just about cutting cost?’
‘I have to admit that there is an element of that. This powder mill is an unusual sort of business in this area and the blasting candle an unusual product.’
Josiah thought that to an outside observer Abram Hailsworth would have looked calm and in control as they talked but he also wondered whether that was really the case. Compared to the witty Abram at diner, this Abram was perhaps a little tense, even defensive.
Why he should he be? This was his domain, his fiefdom. Arlon would have never confessed to being regretful about polluting the river. He would have dismissed Josiah’s suggestion of cutting cost as well by being bullish about that being good business.
‘Why did you branch out into this line of trade? It seems a long way from the farming background of your family.’
‘Simple, I thought it a good business opportunity. There are plenty of mines in the Poynton area and quarries in Derbyshire. It seemed time for a local supplier.’
‘With due respect, Mr Hailsworth, that does not really explain why you were motivated to start up such a radically different sort of venture. There must be many business opportunity for someone with your contacts and drive.’
Abram pursed his lips. ‘Truth is, rather like you and your travels on the continent, I wanted to be my own man and that quickly. Don’t misunderstand me, I love my father dearly and I respect him, even for the things lesser men like Arlon sneer at him for behind his back: his honesty, his taste, his integrity, his kindness. But a day came when I realised that I needed to be free of his guiding hand.’ Abram got up and started to pace up and down. ‘It was just after I met, how shall I put it, a particular friend of mine.’
‘Do I take it this friend is female?’
‘You can. I met her near the time that Mr Arlon started to indicate he favoured a marriage between me and Sarah. Her name is Elizabeth. She is a young widow with a small son and she quickly became my mistress and then more than a mistress. We found that our temperaments were well matched and I realised I loved her. We are an unexpected partnership of passion and friendship. But to marry her I need to be financially independent. Then I can stand clear of Arlon’s assumptions and can afford to follow the lead my heart gives.
‘Please don’t think that I’m being ungallant to Sarah. Sarah and I have been friends since we were children and I am very fond of her but I look on her as a sister.’
Before he could stop himself, Josiah chuckled, to which Abram immediately responded. ‘Mr Ainscough I can’t help but ask what you find amusing in that story?’
‘Oh nothing intended to offend I assure you. It’s just that if someone had asked me who might be your mistress before this conversation I would have picked someone entirely different.’
Abram laughed and for the first time in the interview relaxed. ‘Oh you can’t say that and expect me to let it rest there. Come on Josiah, one man to another who would you have named?’
Josiah swallowed hard and blushed. ‘Well since you insist, Miss Hayes.’
Abram frowned not in anger but in curiosity. ‘What made you think of her?’
‘Well I thought she seemed rather attached and familiar with you at the soirée.’
‘Yes, she has that sort of manner,’ Abram sighed. ‘But witty and alluring as Miss Hayes can be, she could never be that sort of particular friend of mine.
‘Josiah the powder mill is a risky business but not in manufacturing terms. At the moment the blasters themselves buy the powder they need from approved apothecaries. That is convenient for the mine owners since the men pay for the powder but the quality of the powder varies and that leads to inconsistent results.
‘We sell the candles to the mines, not the men. That is more expensive for the mine owners but by using our candles there are fewer failed firings.’
‘Can’t you just put in a new fuse or repack the gunpowder if it doesn’t go off?’
‘Not unless you want to risk blowing your own head off. A new blast hole has to be made and a new charge set. Our “candles” offer another advantage, they are quicker and easier to use so you don’t need to pay as many experienced blasters. But don’t take my word for it, the charges have been perfected with the help of the men at my father’s coal mine on our estate. You are welcome to go and talk to them.’
Josiah recalled Charlie Jones on the market, an example of why new sorts of customers need to be convinced that a new product is worth extra cost. Charlie got hold of some Indian Shawls well before they were the fashion. He paid a good price on the basis that the ladies of Stockport would clamour to get them and he’d make enough money to cover the extra cost. He was right but the trade was slow to take off because no one had seen an Indian Shawl before. He nearly went bust before he made a profit.
‘But it’s not just about who buys them,’ Josiah said. ‘There’s the novelty of being sulphur free. Doesn’t that count against the candles?’
‘As Mr Bridges will have told you we are stuck with the candles being sulphur free. We can’t manufacture them with it.’
Crisis point, thought Josiah. He could believe that a combination of financial risk and the pressures of love could explain Abram’s cutting corners on the saltpetre. Josiah’s own experience of love had revealed to him how it can drive someone to do things they wouldn’t normally think appropriate.
His intuition told him that he should now press Abram about the sulphur but being rude to Mr Hailsworth’s son and heir by effectively calling him a liar about the mill’s use of sulphur, might mean Josiah would be back in Stockport double quick.
‘Thank you, Mr Hailsworth,’ he said and he closed his notebook. They both stood and shook hands. But Josiah’s heart was not in the gesture. The handshake slowed and they were left holding hands across the desk in a ridiculous posture.
‘I believe the blasting candles do con
tain sulphur,’ Josiah said without force or passion. ‘I found a store of sulphur this morning. Why are you lying about it?’ The words hung in the air of the office.
Abram shook himself free of Josiah’s grip. ‘You are a guest here and that is a terrible insult. If you were anything other than an officer of the law I would knock you down. Goodbye Mr Ainscough. See yourself out.’
Josiah did not by nature swear but as he retreated in disarray from the powder mill he repeatedly levelled, at himself, words like blast, damn and some even more profane and colourful ones learned from Stockport market. What had possessed him to utter that bald statement accusing Abram Hailsworth of lying about the sulphur? Josiah was so engrossed with these thoughts that, near to the turning to Long Clough, he was almost knocked down by a horse. A voice spoke out of the heavens.
‘Really, Mr Ainscough, you must pay more attention to where you are going, if you are to survive to a ripe old age. It beats me how you ever managed to navigate safely all that way across Europe.’ He looked up to see Aideen Hayes, mounted side-saddle on a fine grey.
‘I am terribly sorry. You are quite right. I should look where I am going,’ adding silently and bitterly to himself: In more ways than one.
‘Don’t worry,’ she laughed. ‘Help me down and I’ll walk with you. I was getting a bit stiff and my mount could do with a rest before I take him back to his stable at the Hall.’
Josiah took the horse’s reins and stood at Aideen’s stirrups ready to help her down. She put her hands on his shoulders. As he reached up to steady her, she jumped towards him and he caught her round the waist. Embarrassed, he let go and stepped back. She looked at him and laughed. Advancing on him, she stroked his cheek as she had done to Abram before the dinner at the Hall.
‘I promise not to eat you alive, Constable.’ To his surprise he wasn’t shocked either by Aideen’s familiarity nor that she knew who he was.
On the first count he remembered what Abram had said about Aideen only a few minutes before and judged it was not an indication of real affection. On the second count, he realised that, deep down, his mind had already accepted the inevitability of someone other than the Hailsworths finding out his identity. After all, he had appeared at the inquest. Whether she expected a reaction he couldn’t say. All he did was grin and shrug in response. ‘How did you find out?’
‘I suspected and once the idea had come into my brain I simply wheedled it out of Abram. The stories you told about your travels in Europe, were they true, or as I said, are you just a very good spinner of tales?’
‘All true. Until towards the end of last year I was travelling in Europe but I came home because my guardian was sick. The tales were all real and all mine, as were the motives for travelling.’
‘Good. I enjoyed them and hope to hear more.’
‘Where is your brother?’
‘Out painting a picture of a rock somewhere,’ she waved a dismissive arm at the countryside in general. ‘He set off early this morning saying he was going to something called the Staffordshire Roaches. I suppose I should be getting back. He could be returning quite soon.’
She offered her hand to Josiah who shook it gently. ‘I hope we run into each other again soon,’ she said. ‘Can you hold my horse’s head steady while I remount?’
‘Of course.’ Josiah held the bridle and reins, wondering how, politely, he was supposed to help Aideen to get back into her saddle. He need not have worried she swung herself up without difficulty or hesitation. He gave her back the reins.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Even though I have deciphered your official disguise, may I call you Josiah? I think we make good enough friends to allow ourselves that liberty?’
‘If you think that would be appropriate, Miss,’ Josiah replied.
‘Then I shall call you Josiah and you must call me Aideen. Our relationship must always be one of equals.’
She turned the horse’s head and trotted off back towards the main road. Josiah watched her go. Then he continued walking towards Long Clough, disconcertingly unable to get out of his head how it had felt to have Aideen Hayes in his arms.
20
Firelight and Memories
After Josiah had returned to Long Clough he went to help in the fields. All the time, he was expecting to see a coach appear, rapidly followed by his dismissal from the case by Mr Hailsworth. But nothing happened.
By evening he was feeling a bit more optimistic. The labour had been a tonic to his spirit. As he had worked his mind had turned to the loose ends of the investigation, particularly the scars and tattoo he had found on Elijah’s body. Even if he was about to be discharged he would like to find out about them for his own satisfaction and only Rachael would be able to shed any light on them.
As usual after the evening meal he found her in the kitchen tidying up. As they worked Rachael talked about her day. She had been doing some sewing and in the afternoon had gone to see neighbours who had an ailing child. Happily, the child was the first person to answer the door when she knocked. Clearly well, and renewed in energy and naughtiness, he had raced round the garden as Rachael and the wife of the house caught up on family news.
‘It was a very good time,’ she said to Josiah. ‘I found that I forgot about Elijah for a little. That was good. I suppose that is the first sign of healing.’ She finished wiping the table. ‘Well I will bid you goodnight.’ She turned to go but he stopped her.
‘Rachael I need to talk to you about Elijah. We can do it some other time if you don’t feel strong enough now but there are some things I found when I examined him before the funeral that puzzle me. I wondered if you might be able to help me?’
She sighed. ‘Would this help in catching his killers?’
‘There was much about how he died that was very brutal. It has made me wonder if he was killed in anger, even revenge.’
‘Mr Arlon hated Elijah for attacking the way he treated the children in his mill.’
‘I have talked to Mr Arlon. He considered Elijah his enemy but I do not think he was angry enough to have killed Elijah in such a brutal way.’
‘What about Abram Hailsworth? He must have seen Elijah as an obstacle to his pursuit of a fortune from that horrible business in explosions.’
‘Abram Hailsworth might have had some suspicion that Elijah might have made more trouble for the mill when it reopened but kill him, unlikely.’
Rachael sat down next to the fire and put her hands in her lap. Superficially, she looked relaxed and attentive but below the surface Josiah detected the tension his request had aroused.
‘Ask me whatever you want. I will do my best to answer.’
Josiah sat opposite her. The sun was going down and the light was fading from the kitchen windows. Where they sat the firelight illuminated her face and gave her hair a flattering pink tinge.
‘Thank you. I will be as quick as I can. I may have asked this before, did Elijah have any enemies in his past? You were with him a long time. You are the only person who might know.’
She looked wistful. ‘Yes I was only eight or so when I met him. A long time ago as you say. Many happy times.’
‘You said, when you gave your eulogy, that he had found you living on the streets in Liverpool?’
‘Yes. I never knew my father, and my mother drank herself to death. I lived with a woman who said she was my Aunty but I’m sure she wasn’t. She was very cruel. She sent me and some other children out to beg for her.’ Her voice was expressionless as if she was talking about someone else not herself.
‘Is that how you got to know Elijah, while you were begging on the streets?’
‘No. Would that it had been,’ a desperate, haunted look passed over her face. She paused. ‘Organised begging wasn’t the only business Aunty ran,’ again the haunted look, before the expressionlessness returned. ‘I may as well tell you the truth. In her house she sold obli
vion by the smoke of a pipe.’ Josiah didn’t immediately understand what she meant and she read it in his face.
‘She was an opium queen. Lots of men and some women came to her for that sort of relief. Elijah was one.’
Josiah was shocked. He found it hard to believe that the upright Elijah Bradshawe he had briefly known could be brought so low. ‘How did he get in such a state?’
‘I do not know. He was always a physically strong man and he was in much demand on the docks because of that strength, loading or unloading the ships. But in all other ways he was a wreck. When he had money he spent it on the drink and the smoke. Every so often he’d spend a day or a night in Aunty’s house instead of the public houses. When the money ran out he’d get up, sober up and go back to work until he had enough money for another binge. But unless he was entirely drunk or drugged he was kind to me.’
‘So how on earth did he come to look after you?’
Rachael squeezed her right hand with her left. Josiah noticed that the skin whitened under the force of her nails. She looked up at him and then quickly down.
‘I don’t remember all the details. If I did not bring Aunty back what she expected from my day’s work, she would fly into a rage. If she had been drinking, she would beat me with a broom stave, shouting that I had stolen the money.’ Josiah flinched.
‘One day Elijah was recovering from the smoke and getting ready to go back to work when she started on me. She went to hit me and he pulled the stick out of her hands and broke it in two.
‘He told her that if he caught her beating me again he’d take me away from her even if he had to knock her down to do it.’
‘How did she react?’
‘She laughed. Surprising really, as a threat like that from a man the size of Elijah was no laughing matter. She started screaming that I was not worth the food she gave me. If I were going to be so much trouble, he could have me for a sovereign and she’d be done with the trouble.’
‘What did he do?’
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