Down Weaver's Lane

by Anna Jacobs

  ‘How handsomely, sir?’

  ‘A guinea for the next four hours.’

  The man nodded, giving them a tight smile. ‘I’ll stick with you, sir. As long as it’s legal.’

  ‘It is indeed.’

  There were no lighted windows upstairs at Armistead’s offices and it took a while to attract the attention of the elderly caretaker in the basement.

  ‘Have you seen Mr Armistead?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘Ah. Left here about half an hour ago.’

  Isaac took out a half-crown piece. ‘Any idea where he might have gone?’

  The caretaker stared at it and shifted his feet uneasily. ‘Home, I suppose, sir. He usually does when it’s late. I call a cab for him sometimes. Not tonight, though. He said he was in a hurry and would hail one down at the corner. Do you need his address?’

  ‘I already have it.’ Isaac handed over the coin.

  But the manservant who answered the door at Marcus Armistead’s house said his master had not been there since he’d left for his office that morning, and no amount of promised largesse would make him offer any suggestions about where else they could search.

  ‘Let’s go back to that caretaker,’ Isaac said as they drove away. ‘He may know something else.’

  Jack nodded, containing his impatience only with difficulty.

  At first the old man denied knowing anything else, but the sight of a golden sovereign on Isaac’s outstretched palm made him hesitate and lick his lips.

  ‘You won’t tell Mr Armistead I said owt?’ he asked in a hoarse whisper.

  ‘No. I’ll not even mention that we’ve seen you, I promise.’

  ‘Well, he does sometimes visit a brothel. I think it’s called the Red House’ The caretaker sniggered. ‘It’s a place for the gentry, they say.’ He gave them the address in a low voice, looking over his shoulder as he did so.

  ‘One more favour, my friend,’ Isaac said. ‘If Constable Makepeace turns up, will you tell him what you’ve told us? I’ve no doubt he’ll show his appreciation as well.’

  The man nodded.

  Jack strode back to the cab, waited for Isaac to get in, then flung himself down next to him. ‘If Armistead’s got my Emmy there . . .’

  ‘You’ll do nothing. Eli is the man to sort this out.’

  Jack looked at him sideways then clamped his lips together. If he had even the slightest hint that Emmy was inside this place, he did not intend to wait for anything or anyone.

  The cab drove slowly along the dark streets, but although it was past midnight now, Jack felt alert and ready for action. He looked down at himself, glad of his big, strong body. Clenching his hands into fists he studied them, feeling anger swell his veins.

  Samuel Rishmore’s coachman stopped at the end of a rough track and leaned down to call to his master, ‘It’ll not do the carriage any good to take it down there.’

  ‘Never mind the damned carriage, just hurry up!’ his master shouted back.

  Muttering under his breath, the man told the horses to walk on.

  They bumped down a track that seemed made of potholes towards the dark cottage belonging to Bill Sully. When they arrived a dog somewhere began to bark hysterically and Hercules growled and pawed at the carriage door. There was no sign of the inhabitants of the cottage, although they could not have failed to hear the carriage approaching,

  Eli told the coachman to turn the carriage round ready to leave, then looked at the Parson. ‘Perhaps you could bring the dog with you, Mr Bradley? It’ll know if Emmy’s here better than we ever could. Mr Rishmore, I think you should accompany us, as Magistrate.’ He didn’t wait for an answer but went to bang on the front door, rubbing his hands together to warm them as he waited, his breath clouding the air.

  It was a long time before it was answered by an old woman who was, as Eli didn’t fail to notice, fully dressed.

  ‘If you’re lost . . .’ she began.

  ‘We’re not. We’re searching for a young woman who’s been abducted. We’ve been told that your son is involved.’

  ‘There’s no young woman here. An’ my Bill wouldn’t do owt like that.’

  ‘Then you won’t mind if we search the house, will you?’

  She scowled and stayed where she was. ‘You’ve no right to do that. No right at all.’ As Samuel Rishmore stepped out of the shadows, however, she gasped and took a quick step backwards.

  ‘As Magistrate, I have every right to search for a missing person,’ he said curtly. ‘Stand aside if you please, my good woman.’

  Even as he was speaking Gerald Bradley felt Hercules began to pull on his lead, his nose down, and as Mrs Sully fell back, the dog dragged him inside the house, moving to and fro, yipping softly. The animal led them to a chair and began barking, looking round at them as if he wanted to tell them something.

  Exchanging a quick glance with the Parson, Eli moved forward. ‘Was she here, lad?’ He caught sight of something on the floor under the nearby table and moved forward to pick up a piece of rope. When he held it out to Hercules, the dog began to bark furiously.

  Eli turned to the householder. ‘This is the young woman’s dog. He knows her scent. I think she’s been here.’

  ‘No, she ain’t.’

  The dog moved so suddenly he pulled the leash out of the Parson’s hand. He began to leap at the old woman, who struck out at him, trying to keep him away.

  As soon as he was sure the dog wasn’t trying to bite her Eli held up one hand to prevent anyone intervening, trying to understand what Hercules was doing. He saw a scrap of white material poking out of the woman’s waistband. The dog seemed to be concentrating on that. Stepping forward, he tweaked it out. ‘Was this what you were looking for, lad?’ he asked gently, holding it out.

  Hercules grabbed at it, whining in his throat and looking at them again.

  ‘It’s a handkerchief,’ Eli said grimly. ‘And it’s got an E embroidered on the corner.’

  Gerald took it out of his hand to examine it. ‘My wife teaches girls to embroider like that. I can’t swear to it, but it’s very likely Emmy’s handkerchief.’

  ‘Found it at the market in Northby,’ the old woman said. ‘Don’t know who it belonged to afore.’

  Eli changed tack, utterly certain now that Emmy had been kept prisoner here. ‘Where’s your son?’

  ‘How should I know?’ She leered at him. ‘Out with a woman, I should think.’

  ‘Or maybe he’s on the way to Manchester, taking the girl to Marcus Armistead?’

  For a moment fear showed on her face, further confirmation that they were on the right track. Eli turned to the others. ‘I’ll just check the rest of the house, but it’s my guess they’ve already left. We’ll follow them to Manchester.’

  Samuel Rishmore looked at Mrs Sully as they were leaving. ‘If I think you’re involved I shall not hesitate to charge you with assisting in an abduction.’

  She gave him a resentful look, turned her back on them and began to poke the fire. ‘Shut the door after you.’

  Outside they found the carriage facing the way they had come, ready to leave. Around them was a stark moonlit landscape of black and white. As the others got into the vehicle Eli gave instructions to the coachman then clambered in after them. Reaching down, he patted Hercules on the head. ‘You’re a good boy.’

  The animal whined softly in its throat and settled at his feet as the carriage jolted on through the darkness along the rough moorland tracks. Eli could not see any possibility that they would arrive in time to save Emmy from whatever Armistead had planned, but he didn’t say so. The other men were equally silent, their expressions grim.

  As they regained the Manchester road with its more level surface, Samuel opened the window to yell, ‘Drive as fast as you can!’

  Emmy felt the change in the road surface and later saw through the carriage window the lights that suggested they’d reached Manchester. ‘Where are we going?’ People could just vanish in some parts of the city, she knew fro
m her childhood.

  ‘Never you mind.’ Gus was still in a sour mood, unhappy with being forced to participate in this evening’s work. ‘Just you remember what I told you an’ do as the gentleman asks.’

  ‘And just you remember that I’ll never do as Marcus Armistead asks. Never.’ She saw an even more worried expression settle on his face and added, ‘I think he killed my mother. Will you let him kill me as well?’

  His mouth fell open. ‘It were a tramp as killed your ma.’

  ‘I don’t think so, and neither does Mr Makepeace. He’ll find me, you know. He won’t give up. He’ll know who’s arranged all this.’

  The thought of the constable pursuing them worried Gus more than anything. ‘If you don’t shut up, I’ll gag you again!’ he said roughly. But although she didn’t speak she kept her eyes fixed on him and he cursed the day he’d ever got involved with Armistead. If Gus’s cousin had been part of this there might be some hope for the lass, because George wouldn’t let things go too far. But Armistead had made it plain that George was not to know what was going on tonight.

  After jolting through the streets for a long time, they came to a halt.

  ‘Where are we?’ Emmy asked.

  ‘Shut up, I told you!’ When the carriage door opened, Gus nudged Bill. ‘Keep an eye on her while I check it’s safe to take her inside.’ By which he meant that George wasn’t around.

  Emmy could see that they were in a back lane behind a big house that was full of light in spite of the late hour, and this puzzled her still further.

  The man on the rear door told Gus that George was out at the front, talking to the customers, so he beckoned urgently and Bill, who was a much smaller man, staggered across carrying Emmy.

  ‘Give her here!’

  As Gus reached out for her, she jerked sideways as hard as she could and although this made her fall to the ground, it also delayed them a little.

  ‘What did you do that for, you stupid bitch?’ Gus demanded, itching to slap her but not daring to because Mr Armistead liked them unmarked and untouched. He heaved her across his shoulder and carried her into the kitchen, groaning as he saw his cousin had come through to the back.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ George demanded.

  ‘Delivery for Mr Armistead,’ Gus told him and started to move on towards the back stairs.

  ‘George, don’t let them take me!’ Emmy begged. ‘He’ll kill me for sure this time.’

  He stared at her in shock. Madge’s girl! What the hell was going on? He rounded on the doorman. ‘How come no one told me she was expected?’ As the man looked uncomfortable, George had a sudden thought and asked, ‘Has this happened before?’

  The man avoided his eyes and shrugged. ‘He likes his extra pleasures kept quiet does Mr Armistead. Not for me to tell the owner no, is it?’

  ‘I’m the owner, too,’ George declared angrily.

  The doorman shrugged again.

  Another voice interrupted them. ‘Ah, I see my little parcel has arrived.’ Marcus walked into the room, smiling to see Emmy Carter so helpless. This time she wouldn’t get a chance to escape.

  Although he was much shorter than the other men there, he dominated the group with his air of confidence and his well-tailored clothes. They were used to doing as the gentry wanted and in a place like this, the gentry sometimes wanted strange things.

  ‘Take her up to the top attic,’ Marcus ordered. ‘And if she tries to make a noise, gag her.’

  George stood chewing the corner of his lip, then shrugged and let them go. But he was not happy about this situation. He had not forgotten the girl who’d been murdered or the one who had left for London. ‘Don’t make too much noise and don’t hurt her,’ he told his partner as they carried the girl through.

  Marcus smiled.

  George did not like that smile. Not at all. He turned on his heel and went to the front of the house, waited a few minutes then ran lightly up the stairs the customers used. In the attics where the girls slept he opened the door that led to the small upper chamber, then jerked back quickly and slipped into a nearby room as someone started to come down the stairs towards him.

  When Gus had gone George opened the door again and tiptoed quietly up into the roof space. Moving carefully, he squeezed behind some boxes near the door of the room Marcus was using, knowing there was a peephole in the side wall. He set his eye to it, grimly determined to make sure that his partner didn’t go too far.

  And if what he discovered confirmed certain suspicions he had been nursing, then there were going to be some changes round here, some very big changes.

  ‘Well, Emmy Carter, so I have you at last,’ Marcus said, looking down at the bound girl on the bed. ‘And this time you definitely won’t escape.’

  She said nothing, holding her fear at bay by sheer will-power.

  ‘Nothing to say for yourself, girl?’

  ‘They’re looking for me. They’ll find me, too!’ she managed to say on a note of defiance.

  He laughed. ‘No, they won’t. You’ll only be here tonight and if you’re still alive in the morning I’ll have you moved again. I’ve done it before. It’s not hard to fool people. Even my partner has no idea what I get up to.’

  Outside George stiffened. If you’re still alive in the morning! Was the sod planning to kill her? Oh, hell, what was he going to do about this? And who exactly was looking for her? Was this just an empty threat or was someone really on Emmy’s track?

  Marcus began to remove his outer garments. ‘I’m going to enjoy this,’ he said in a quiet conversational tone as he moved towards her.

  Not too much, you’re not, George thought. I’m not having you murdering Madge’s girl. But he saw Marcus’s sword stick on a chair and that worried him. He didn’t intend to rush in and get himself stabbed.

  The house the caretaker had sent them to was dark, with not a sign of life to it. Jack didn’t wait for Isaac but jumped out of the cab and went over to some men lounging under a lamp post. ‘I thought there was a whore house here,’ he said, pulling a coin from his pocket. ‘The Red House?’

  One of them straightened up. ‘There was. It moved.’ He held out his hand.

  ‘When you’ve told me where,’ Jack said quietly.

  ‘Why do you want to know? You’re not the sort as uses a place like that. It’s gentry only. But I can find you a lass as won’t look down her nose at you.’

  Jack forced a laugh. ‘It isn’t for me. Another time, perhaps. This one is for my master.’ He jerked his head in the direction of the cab.

  ‘Ah. That’s different.’ The man rattled off an address and held his hand out. ‘They call it The Golden Swan now, though.’

  Jack dropped the coin in it and went to tell the driver the new address. ‘Do you know the place?’

  ‘Aye. Going up in the world, aren’t we?’

  In the darkness inside the cab Isaac said quietly, ‘Remember, when we get there you’re not to go barging inside, Jack. Jack? Are you listening to me?’

  ‘If I think Emmy’s in there, I’m not going to sit and wait for another man to come and rescue her,’ he said in a low, fierce voice. ‘And if that bastard has touched her . . .’

  Which made Isaac worry even more. Eli had sent them to Manchester specifically to keep the young man out of trouble, but if Armistead was here, Eli had guessed wrongly and they’d be right into the thick of things. It’d do Emmy no good to have her young man charged with assault by a man of means.

  The large house they reached next was very brightly lit and in front of it a carriage had stopped to disgorge two drunken gentlemen.

  ‘Go past and stop round the corner!’ Isaac called up to their driver.

  They drew up in the shadows near the entrance to a back alley. Jack reached for the door handle. ‘I’m going to have a look round.’

  ‘Jack, don’t—’ But Isaac was talking to himself.

  Hugging the shadows and moving quietly Jack crept along the back alley. No mistaking which h
ouse he wanted. Only one place was lit up in every room. And outside the back entrance another carriage stood waiting. Why was it standing here when the others pulled up at the front? He sucked in his breath as it occurred to him that it might be Armistead’s, concealed for a reason.

  He was about to creep back to tell Isaac what he suspected when someone drew on a pipe, sending out a pungent cloud of smoke.

  ‘I bet he’s having fun in there,’ a man said.

  ‘Well, I feel sorry for the lass. He’s a nasty sod, that one is.’ Another puffing sound was followed by a second cloud of smoke.

  ‘Ah, what’s that to us?’

  ‘It’s our lives if he kills this one an’ the law finds out, that’s what it is,’ the pipe smoker snapped.

  Jack recognised the voice suddenly. Gus Norris! The new proprietor of the Horse and Rider alehouse in Northby. Emmy had to be here! Torn between forcing his way past the two men and breaking down the back door, or going back to Isaac Butterfield, he hesitated.

  ‘It’s bloody cold out here. I don’t know why you won’t wait in the kitchen.’

  ‘I prefer it out here, cold or not!’ Gus snapped. He could slip away from here if he had to.

  His companion shrugged then turned towards the house. With a laugh he pointed up to a skylight in the roof. ‘Look, he’s only just lit the place up. That’s where he takes the special ones.’

  There was the sound of footsteps moving towards the house and another voice asking, ‘Who’s that?’ The back door opened and slammed shut. Which told Jack there was a man on guard there. He could definitely do nothing on his own, then. Moving very carefully he went back to the cab and told Mr Butterfield what he had heard, his voice breaking with anguish and fear for the woman he loved.

  ‘We’ll have to wait for Eli,’ Isaac told him. ‘I know it’s hard, but you’ll do more harm than good if you try to break in on your own.’

  ‘How can I wait when Armistead’s got her in there?’ Jack thought hard for a moment then said, ‘I’m going back. There has to be some way to get inside and help her.’