Will Cates wasn’t at home, the servant told him coldly. He was meeting someone at the Talbot. That place again, Sedgwick thought as he retraced his steps. It seemed as if half the bad things in Leeds happened there. If he had his druthers, he’d tear it apart, brick by brick. But no one was going to grant him that wish.
The place was a warren, a cockpit in the back, rooms for whores and private gambling up the stairs. He wasn’t surprised that he couldn’t spot Cates when he entered. He found a place on a bench close to the door, ordered a quart of ale and waited.
Much of the talk had stopped when he came in, and over the next half hour he was gratified to see many of the customers leave. He allowed himself a small smile at ruining trade for a while. One of the few remaining, half hidden in a shadowed corner, was another of the Constable’s men, watching for the thief taker. The deputy didn’t acknowledge him, but stayed alert for a glimpse of Cates.
When the man finally emerged he was adjusting his coat then stooping to wipe some dust off the silver buckle of a shoe. A wig stood slightly askew on his head and he took the time to straighten it. As he walked towards the door Sedgwick stood and said,
‘Mr Cates? I’d like a word with you, if you’d be so good.’
Taken by surprise, Cates raised his eyebrows, scrutinizing at the deputy’s old clothes and wild hair.
‘And who are you? Looking for charity?’
‘I’m the deputy constable of the city, sir,’ Sedgwick replied, emphasizing the title. ‘We can talk here, or we can go to the jail. Or to your house, if you prefer.’ He allowed the threat of the words to hang in the air.
‘I’ve already talked to Rob Lister,’ Will Cates said impatiently. ‘Didn’t he tell you that?’
Sedgwick smiled. ‘Of course, but there are some more questions I need to ask. Where do you want to talk?’
Cates let out a frustrated sigh and sat, snapping his fingers for the potboy to bring ale. Finally, when they were alone, he said,
‘I hope this is important. There are places I need to be.’
‘Just a stop for a doxie on the way?’ the deputy wondered with a smile.
‘None of your business,’ Cates told him.
‘You knew Lucy Wendell, the serving girl at your house?’
‘Bloody Lucy again?’ Cates raised his voice. ‘Haven’t you found the girl yet?’
‘Oh yes, sir, we’ve found her,’ Sedgwick said.
‘Then what’s the problem?’
‘She was dead. Someone had killed her and her baby.’
Just like his brother, the colour vanished from Cates’s face and his hands trembled as he took a drink.
‘And what do you think?’ he asked. ‘That I had something to do with it? Is that it?’
‘Did you?’
‘Of course not. Don’t be so stupid. I told Rob I wouldn’t have fucked her with another man’s pizzle.’
‘Someone did.’
‘Don’t look to me.’
‘But you’ve had other serving girls.’
Cates started to laugh, the confidence of position and money returning.
‘For the love of God, man, what’s the point in employing a pretty girl if you can’t enjoy her?’
‘Doesn’t matter if they want to or not?’
Cates stared. ‘Of course they want to. If they wish to keep their jobs, that is.’
‘And Lucy?’
Cates shook his head. ‘Not me,’ he said firmly. ‘Try asking my brother, she might have been to his tastes.’
‘I have,’ Sedgwick said. ‘He denies it.’
The man halted with the mug halfway to his mouth and inclined his head.
‘You have your answers, then.’
‘I have some answers,’ the deputy corrected him. ‘I still have to see if they’re honest ones or not.’
Cates seemed amused. ‘You don’t believe me?’ he asked.
‘There’s a great deal in this world I don’t believe until it’s been proved.’
The man shrugged and took a sip of his ale. ‘I can’t prove I never tupped the lass. I’ve been honest enough, I’ve told you I had others, and that I didn’t want her.’
‘The others aren’t dead,’ Sedgwick observed. ‘That’s a good reason for a man to deny something.’
‘Maybe you should ask my father,’ Cates said with a chuckle. ‘I think he’s had almost every serving girl. He likes anything female. Except my mother, of course,’ he added with a smile. ‘He hasn’t wanted her in years.’
‘I’ll be talking to him,’ the deputy promised.
‘You do that.’ Cates stood. ‘See how happy he is with your questions. I can guarantee that he won’t be pleased your stupid little bitch is causing us trouble in death.’ He nodded his farewell.
Sedgwick sat and slowly finished the drink. He believed the brothers when they said they’d never touched Lucy. Their disgust seemed too genuine. He’d been lied to by better men than them, and he felt they’d given him the truth. If they thought twice before lifting the skirts of another serving girl, then some little good would have come from the questions. But he doubted that; it would pass from their minds soon enough. And he still had to deal with Ben Cates; that would be a different matter. He wasn’t young and callow. He was a man who’d made his mark in the city, with wealth and power, and important friends. Still, it was the job he’d wanted and he had to do it.
He walked back up Briggate in the drizzle, the collar of his coat turned up, the smell of wet wool in his nostrils. The day seemed muted, the buildings in shades of grey, the ginnels leading through to the courts filled with deep, dark puddles. At least the rain had cleared some of the shit from the street, he thought, as the turds moved slowly down the runnel on the road, grabbed at by stray dogs crowded around the Shambles. Their ribs showed through their fur, and they snapped and barked at each other as they hunted the scraps from the butchers.
This time he marched to the front door of the house in Town End. He’d barely finished knocking when it swung open and he was looking at Grace the maid.
‘Hello, Grace,’ he said. ‘I’m looking for Mr Cates. Is he in?’
‘Yes, sir.’ She looked flustered, glancing around her, eyes fearful.
‘I’d like to see him.’
Grace took a breath and closed her eyes for a moment to gather herself before showing him through to a parlour.
‘I’ll see if he’s available, sir,’ she said. In a whisper, she added, ‘Please don’t say anything about. .’
‘I promised you,’ the deputy told her. ‘Not a word.’
‘Thank you.’ Relief flooded her face. ‘I’ll tell Mr Cates you’re here.’
He waited a quarter hour by the clock until the door opened again and Cates entered, a frown on his face.
‘The girl said you wanted me.’
‘That’s right,’ Sedgwick said.
‘She said you’re the deputy constable?’
‘I am,’ Sedgwick acknowledged.
‘And what’s the reason you’re here?’
‘Lucy Wendell.’ He spoke the name loud and clear, looking for a reaction.
Cates snorted. ‘The Constable here a few days back, you today. Who’s it going to be next, that lad you have?’
‘She’s dead,’ the deputy told him. ‘Someone killed her.’
‘So you thought you’d come back and hound me?’
‘We’re looking for anything that can help us find her murderer,’ he said evenly. ‘Or perhaps you think she’s better off dead, Mr Cates?’
‘You watch your tongue with me, boy,’ Cates warned. ‘I already told your master everything. There’s nothing to do with her death here. He should know better than to send his dog round.’
‘So you and your sons don’t take your pleasure with the serving girls?’
Cates rounded on him, anger in his eyes. ‘What we do or don’t do in this house isn’t your business. Or maybe you’d prefer me to talk to the mayor and the aldermen?’
Se
dgwick returned the stare, his head high, taller than the merchant.
‘You can talk to whoever you want, Mr Cates. But I’ll tell you this — if what happened here led to her death, then it’s our business. Or perhaps you don’t feel the law should apply to you? I’m sure the aldermen and the mayor would like to know if that’s the case. Sir.’
‘Is that a threat?’
‘No.’ The deputy drew the word out slowly. ‘I never threaten, Mr Cates. And I’m sure there’d never be a need here, would there? Now, we can begin again if you’d like, or I can take you to the jail and ask the questions there.’ He knew he was on dangerous ground, but he was damned if he’d be cowed by someone who stood on his money box to speak.
Finally Cates shook his head in frustration. ‘I’ll tell you what you need to know if it’ll get rid of you. I never had that girl. Never wanted her. I didn’t even want her in the bloody house, but my wife thought it would be a charity. How does she repay us? Gets herself with a baby.’ He gave a shrug. ‘You want to know the truth? I was glad to be able to dismiss her. I hated seeing her ugliness around my house every day. Between that and her stupidity, the world won’t miss her.’
‘Some people will,’ Sedgwick said quietly. ‘Her mother, for one, and her brother. Perhaps you’d like to think of them.’
The man waved the idea away with a shrug.
‘She wasn’t pregnant when she began work here,’ the deputy said.
‘What the servants do on their own time is their business,’ Cates said brusquely. ‘I told the Constable that. As long as they don’t bring this family into disrepute, I don’t care what they do. Do you understand that?’
‘Yes.’
‘The girl was a simpleton. She was stupid. Anyone could have had her.’ His voice tightened. ‘I’ll say this for the very last time. I didn’t have her, and I doubt either of my sons did. Now, do you understand that?’ The final words came out as a furious hiss.
‘Thank you.’ Sedgwick put his hand on the doorknob, then turned back. ‘You’ve had other serving girls.’
‘What of it?’ Cates said with a snort.
‘Unless they agree, that’s called rape. Sir.’ He left the room, closing the door quietly, and made his way out into the fresh air. Away from the house, back across the Head Row, he made for the Rose and Crown. What he needed more than anything was a long drink of ale to wash the taste of the last few hours from his mouth.
Would Cates say anything to his cronies, he wondered? Probably not; even quiet words would make him seem ridiculous in front of his friends. He took a deep sip from the mug, feeling the liquid flood through him with a sense of relief. In the end it was just as well that Cates had backed down. Parading him past the Moot Hall to the jail would have been one step too far. As it was he’d made another enemy for the Constable and himself.
But he felt certain that none of the Cates men had been responsible for the baby. He disliked all of them, each in his own way, yet their revulsion when he mentioned Lucy seemed too real to be a lie.
It had felt like a long day, one of endless frustrations. Richard Nottingham was glad to feel the softness of evening gather around him as he walked home over Timble Bridge, listening to the birdsong in the trees and the sound of cattle being driven home from the fields for milking.
The house was warm from cooking, and he hung his coat on the nail inside the door. In the kitchen he could hear Mary and Emily talking quietly.
‘It’s just me,’ he shouted and settled in his chair with a loud, weary sigh. Soon enough, he knew, someone would come bustling through on an errand and supper would be ready, the chatter of the family together before sleep.
Until then, though, he had time to think. They were no closer to finding Lucy Wendell’s killer than they had been when he’d discovered the body. With some luck Rob might learn something when he talked to the woman by the river, but that would only take them one step closer. He wanted the murderer. Someone who could be so callous and cold with life needed to hang, and for his crimes to be known. Alice Wendell deserved justice for her daughter.
Then there was the business with Walton. The alliance with Joe Buck should pay dividends, although it would require a little time. But he was determined to do things properly, legally, so word would spread and no one else would come to try the same tricks. Enforcing the law was difficult enough without having to deal with people like the thief taker.
He stretched out his legs and closed his eyes, but before he could sleep footsteps ran through the room and clattered up the stairs, followed by the slam of a door. Emily, he thought, and went into the kitchen.
‘Is she in a mood?’ he asked. Mary was standing by the table, head bowed, her palms pressing down on the wood. When she lifted her eyes, he could see the start of tears there, and he took her in his arms. ‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know,’ she answered in a small voice. ‘She won’t tell me.’ He stroked her back gently, her fingers clutching tight at his shirt.
‘What do you think?’ he asked. ‘School? Love?’
Mary pulled back and looked at him, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands.
‘All I know is that she was upset when she came home. She was crying. It’s nothing to do with school, I’m sure of that. She’d talk about that.’
‘So it must be love,’ he said calmly. ‘An argument, maybe? Did Rob meet her from school?’
‘He always does, you know that,’ she told him with a small smile. ‘But he didn’t come in,’ she added with a frown. ‘That’s not like him.’
‘I could talk to her,’ he offered.
She shook her head. ‘Don’t, Richard. It’ll probably end up being something and nothing. You know what she’s like, she flares up. Better to let her be for now.’
‘I could have a word with Rob.’
‘Do you think he’d talk to you about it?’ Mary wondered. She’d regained her composure. ‘He might not want to.’
‘I’ll leave that up to him,’ the Constable promised. But he needed to know what was behind all this. Emily had been so happy since she’d begun teaching at the Dame school and taken up with Rob. He’d been able to see a settled life mapped out for her, with marriage and children, and he knew Mary had her dreams of the same thing. For a moment he considered walking back into Leeds to see Lister, but thought better of it. The morning would be soon enough, a quiet word before the lad went off to sleep after his night shift.
‘Maybe they’ll make up quickly,’ Mary said hopefully, reaching out and stroking the back of his hand.
‘It’ll be his loss if he lets her go,’ he told her. ‘She’ll have no shortage of suitors. I’ve seen men looking at her when we’re out walking.’
‘She loves Rob,’ Mary countered. ‘And he loves her, it’s obvious when they’re together.’
‘I know,’ he agreed sadly. He was the girl’s father, he wanted her courting to run smooth. But he’d seen enough of life to know that rarely happened. There would be many ditches and hills on the way, too many places to fall. All he could hope was that the pair of them would find their way past this, that it would be nothing important. ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ he suggested. ‘You might feel better if you’re away from here for a while.’
Mary smiled, the brightness in her eyes as well as her mouth.
‘Maybe she’ll want to talk when we’re back,’ she said.
‘Don’t worry too much if she doesn’t,’ he warned, and held her close. ‘Things will work out one way or another.’
‘I know. But since Rose, I worry about her so much. She’s all we’ve got.’
‘She’ll be fine,’ he assured her. ‘That girl’s got enough spirit for five people.’
They walked out past Burmantofts, out by the road to York where riders and carts were still travelling in the fading light. They let the peace of the countryside envelop them, moving without words, just the touch of hands between them, allowing contentment to slowly seep in. The rain had passed and the air was still;
no gust of wind, sounds faint in the distance, a hawk hanging magnificently above the horizon and swooping down.
Full dark had arrived by the time they returned, the moonlight peeking through scudding clouds. There was no light in Emily’s window; the girl must already be sleeping. They stayed quiet in the house, eating hot pottage in the kitchen before climbing silently up the stairs to bed.
‘I’ll talk to Rob in the morning,’ he promised.
Ten
Lister made his first circuit of the city as darkness came, walking with two of the men. His thoughts roiled and tumbled, troubled by everything his father had said and the way Emily had acted when he’d told her. He was damned if he’d lose her just to please some notion of society that his father possessed; he’d tried to explain that but she’d been too upset and angry to listen. He kept his hand firm on the cudgel, eager to use it at the least provocation. But everything was quiet, all the inns and alehouses subdued as men eked out their money until payday, stretching out their ale or gin over an hour or more, their faces as sullen as their spirits.
When they were done he wandered away, heading down to the river. The fires were burning on the bank and as he approached he could make out the shapes and empty faces of the folk gathered around them, cooking some food or simply taking in the heat. Eyes glanced up at him with suspicion and wariness before turning swiftly away again, bodies moving back slightly.
He stood silent until Gordonson came over, his withered arm gathered at his side, a smile on his face.
‘Mr Lister,’ he said, as if he had no cares in the world, ‘I was hoping you’d come back. Susan’s been waiting for you. Come on, come on, I’ll show you to her.’
The girl was sitting outside the light from the blaze, her back resting against a tree, her hair pulled neatly under a cap and her skirt gathered primly around her ankles. He could hardly make out her face but she seemed young, her body barely developed.
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