Kill-Devil and Water

by Andrew Pepper

  Felix considered this. ‘Are you angry with me?’

  ‘If that pistol had gone off, your life would have been finished. Do you understand? Eric was a rotten apple, but what if you’d killed him? Needlessly taking a life is the very worst thing you can do. And you’re far too young to deal with the consequences.’

  ‘It wasn’t loaded.’

  ‘How would you know whether it was loaded or not?’

  ‘Outside in the alleyway, I pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.’

  ‘That’s beside the point. You’re still too young.’

  There was a brief silence. ‘I thought you’d be proud of me,’ Felix said, eventually, his tone more reticent than before.

  ‘I am - proud of you putting a ruffian like Eric in his place. But you also took too much of a risk. That’s what you have to learn. Judgement. Knowing what to do and when. That’ll come with time.’

  Felix listened to what Pyke had just said and nodded. ‘If in doubt,’ Pyke said, ‘try to imagine what your mother might say about whatever it is you’re about to do.’ He hesitated. ‘Or Jo.’

  Jo brought in the scrambled eggs and the three of them chatted about inconsequential things for almost an hour. Their peace was disturbed by a rap on the front door and Copper’s subsequent barking. Harold Field stood on the threshold, tapping the ground with a bamboo cane. Behind him, his assistant, Matthew Paxton, waited by the carriage. Field didn’t wait to be invited into the house and made straight for the dining room. Copper growled but let Field walk past him. Without being asked, Field took the chair next to Felix and showed the lad his snuff-box. Felix inspected it without much interest. Field was smartly attired in a blue frock-coat, cream waistcoat and cravat and grey trousers, and his whiskers had been buffed with a reddy-brown oil.

  ‘Quite a delightful family you have here, Pyke,’ Field said, smiling.

  ‘Perhaps we could talk in the front room. It’s quieter and more private.’

  Field looked at him and then at Felix and whispered, ‘I suspect I’m being quarantined. But it was nice to make your acquaintance.’ He picked up his snuff-box and followed Pyke into the other room.

  ‘I can see you’ve been back in the country long enough to find suitable accommodation,’ Field said, casting his eye around the unfurnished room. ‘But, it would appear, not long enough to pay me a visit.’

  ‘How did you find out where I lived?’

  Field wandered across to the bay window and looked down on to the street. ‘I won’t make a secret of it. You were seen by Paxton yesterday. He followed you back here and passed the address to me.’

  Pyke considered this for a few moments and walked across to join Field at the window. On the front step, Matthew Paxton was smoking a pipe. Alerted by Pyke’s presence in the bay window, he looked up. Field had brought two other men with him but they were waiting by his carriage. ‘What do you want?’

  Field turned around and studied Pyke, as though disappointed in him. ‘I’m sorry to hear you adopting such a tone. I thought the two of us had come to some kind of understanding.’

  ‘All I meant was that I’m surprised that a man with your responsibilities has the time to pay me a courtesy call.’

  That seemed to appease him. ‘I was in the area and was wondering whether you happened to have come across Elizabeth Malvern on your travels.’

  Pyke’s face remained composed, his voice measured. ‘No, I’m afraid I didn’t.’

  ‘No?’ The surprise in Field’s voice seemed genuine.

  ‘Her brother hadn’t seen her for a couple of years.’ Pyke hesitated. ‘Either she didn’t arrive ...’

  ‘Or?’

  Pyke folded his arms. ‘Like I said, I don’t know where she is.’

  ‘Did I suggest that you did?’ Field’s stare was cold and piercing. ‘It’s just a little strange, don’t you think? Impeccable sources assured me that she had made the journey, after all.’

  Pyke remained silent but turned and walked across to the fireplace. He didn’t want Field to see that he was lying. ‘On a different subject, did Bessie Daniels come home in the end?’

  ‘Not as far as I’m aware.’ This time, Field had to look away, apparently uneasy for the first time.

  ‘Not as far as you’re aware?’ Pyke tried to swallow but his throat was dry. ‘Do you mean you haven’t actually looked into the matter?’

  ‘I’d be very careful about the tone you take with me, Pyke.’

  But this time Pyke couldn’t help himself. ‘You mean to tell me you paid this woman to spy on an extremely dangerous individual and you haven’t made any effort to make sure she’s safe?’

  Field took a few steps away from the window. ‘Now you’re starting to talk like a dead man.’

  Unable to hold his tongue, Pyke continued. ‘If you’re too brazen or self-interested to look out for her, perhaps I should see what I can do.’ He hesitated but didn’t look across at Field. ‘Where does, or should I say did, she live? Any family?’

  He saw the blood rise in Field’s neck and face until even the tips of his ears were crimson. In fact Field seemed too upset to speak and for a moment Pyke feared for his safety.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ This time Pyke held up his hands, by way of an apology. ‘I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. It’s just I’m concerned about Bessie. I blame myself more than I blame you.’

  That seemed to calm Field down a little. ‘Lord, Pyke, if you hadn’t just apologised I’m not sure I could have let you live.’ He shook his head as though the prospect of taking Pyke’s life actually bothered him.

  They stared at one another without speaking. Field went back over to the window and indicated something to Paxton.

  ‘I have to go.’ He walked past Pyke but stopped at the door, his hand on the knob. ‘In answer to your question, I believe it was Eliza Craddock who sold her to Crane. If you remember, I solicited the woman’s assistance after she’d been sold to Crane.’

  Pyke absorbed this statement. ‘You mind if I pay her a visit, see if she’s heard anything?’

  ‘As long as you don’t mention my name I don’t care what you do.’ Field was poised to depart. ‘And if you do find Elizabeth Malvern, you will let me know, won’t you?’

  Pyke nodded.

  On the front steps Matthew Paxton waited for Field to pass and then looked up at Pyke, a crooked smile passing across his lips.

  ‘I remember her,’ Eliza Craddock said carefully. ‘Nice lass but ugly. She had this nasty hare-lip. I used to put her in the darkest room so the men wouldn’t see her face and complain to me afterwards.’ She was sitting at the same table where Pyke had found her before, her bulbous arms resting by her sides.

  ‘When was the last time you saw her?’

  ‘I’d say a few months ago now.’

  ‘Why did she leave?’

  A noise came from somewhere in the brothel and Craddock looked behind her, then turned back to face him. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I asked why she left.’

  ‘Can’t recall.’ She flashed him a toothy grin. ‘Gals come and go, can’t do nothing about it.’

  Pyke closed his palm slightly and slapped her hard across the face. The suddenness of his actions and the force of the blow caught her unawares.

  ‘You’re an acquaintance of Jemmy Crane, aren’t you?’

  When she didn’t answer, Pyke kicked away the table, grabbed her by the throat and pushed her back against the wall. ‘You sold Bessie to him, didn’t you? He wanted a girl, someone you didn’t particularly need, and the two of you agreed a price.’ Pyke squeezed his hand tighter around her flabby neck. ‘How much was it?’

  Craddock’s face had turned white and her eyes had almost doubled in size. Pyke didn’t just want to strangle her; he wanted to tear out her throat. But at the last moment, he let go and watched her slide down the wall on to the floor, like a pool of water, holding her throat and gasping for air.

  Bending over, he slapped her hard across the cheek onc
e more and whispered, ‘Do you know where she is now?’

  ‘No.’ But this time she didn’t hesitate; he could smell the fear on her rancid breath.

  ‘Don’t lie to me.’

  ‘I’m not,’ she spluttered. ‘After that day, I never saw her again.’

  ‘Do you know what Crane wanted with her?’

  ‘Something about copperplates, I think, but I didn’t ask and he didn’t tell me. None of my business.’

  ‘How much did he pay you?’

  ‘Five guineas.’ Even she seemed ashamed of the paltry fee.

  It took every ounce of self-control for Pyke not to pummel her face into a bloody mess.

  She watched carefully as he prepared to leave but it was only when he was halfway along the passage towards the front door that she shouted, ‘You know I’ll go straight to Crane, don’t you? And you won’t be able to knock him around like you did me. Fact is, you don’t have any idea what you’re getting yourself into.’

  That afternoon Pyke had just returned from walking Copper on the fields to the north of Pentonville when a figure caught his attention on the other side of the street. Her hair was tied up and covered by a straw bonnet but he recognised her immediately. Elizabeth Malvern.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me disturbing you at home,’ she said, once he had crossed the street to join her. ‘I was hoping we might be able to take some air and talk at the same time.’ Her plain dress, although respectable, neither copied the Empire waistlines of the Regency era nor conformed to the more contemporary preference for hooped skirts and flounced sleeves. It was slim fitting and showed off her hips. Her arms were covered by a shawl.

  Pyke looked up towards his house on the other side of the road and saw Jo move away from the window. ‘I could spare a few minutes.’ He allowed her to walk ahead of him by a few paces and then followed, Copper hopping along by his side. ‘What did you want to talk about?’

  ‘This is difficult for me to say because I know it will reflect badly on me, but I wasn’t entirely honest with you last night.’

  ‘In what sense?’ Now they were out of view of the bay window, Pyke caught up with her and took his place at her side.

  ‘You asked me what need I had for a pistol and I was evasive in my answer.’

  ‘I noticed.’

  She bowed her head and blushed slightly. ‘I wasn’t entirely truthful about my reasons for not travelling to Jamaica or for deceiving my ...’ She paused for a moment. ‘... my father either.’

  At the crossroads, they waited for a dray and a wagon to pass and hurried across the street.

  ‘A few months ago I had a visit from this ... this man.’ She hesitated. ‘He was more of a beggar, actually, and he wore patches over both of his eyes. He said he was blind and he used a long stick to feel his way around.’ A moment passed. ‘He clearly wanted to talk to me but I was frightened and I chased him away.’

  ‘And did he go?’ Pyke kept his face composed in spite of this new information.

  ‘Initially, yes, but he came back. That’s when he told me he was my uncle.’

  ‘And what did you say to that?’

  ‘What do you think I said? I told him not to be so ridiculous and to leave me alone.’

  ‘And did he?’

  Elizabeth turned to face him, her face lined with worry. ‘He told me he was my father’s brother, Phillip, and when I tried to say my uncle Phillip had died a long time ago, when I was still a girl, he told me that it wasn’t true and then proceeded to talk about my family and about Ginger Hill in a way that no one else could possibly have done. I suppose I believed him in the end.’

  ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘At the time I shooed him away. It was too much for me to take in. But then I went and told my father.’ She waited and bit her lip. ‘I’ve never seen him so angry, or so scared. That’s when he gave me the pistol and said if this man ever turned up on my doorstep again, I was to brandish it in his face and, if he refused to leave or tried to harm me, I was to shoot him.’

  ‘I thought you said you only communicated via correspondence?’

  Elizabeth smiled sheepishly. ‘This was before ...’

  ‘Before?’

  ‘Before this whole business.’ A steeliness had crept into her tone.

  Pyke nodded. ‘Did he acknowledge that this man was, or at least might have been, his brother?’

  ‘He didn’t believe me at first, but then I told him about the patches over his eyes and he went very quiet.’

  They walked on for a few yards and then crossed over the Regent’s Canal, where fields appeared on either side of the road. Copper crouched and urinated against a fence post.

  ‘You have to understand my father isn’t well. He’s old, his memory is failing him and it frustrates him. On occasion he lashes out.’

  ‘Verbally or physically?’

  Elizabeth looked out across the fields and took in a breath of air. ‘He used to be such a healthy, vigorous man. It’s hard for him, being confined to that chair.’

  Pyke thought about the frail specimen he’d seen and wondered whether the old man was actually capable of hurting anyone except himself.

  ‘Did you ever see this other man again - the one claiming to be your uncle?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And did you have another conversation with your father about him?’

  ‘I tried to. After ...’

  ‘After what?’

  This time when she turned to face him, she looked genuinely afraid. Either that, or she was a better actress than he’d imagined. ‘After I found out how Mary had been killed, her eyes cut from their sockets.’

  Pyke’s skin tightened across his face. ‘How did you find out about that?’

  ‘My servant heard it from one of my father’s servants. She’d overheard him talking to a policeman about it.’

  ‘Inspector Pierce?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know.’ She pulled her shawl up over her shoulders and stared down at the ground.

  ‘And what did you think?’

  ‘What did I think about what?’

  ‘About the way Mary’s face had been mutilated.’

  She walked a few paces ahead of him then turned around. ‘To be honest, I didn’t want to think about it. So I asked my father.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He was angry at first and then he tried to deny any involvement in the matter.’

  ‘But you suspect that Mary’s death might have had something to do with your uncle?’

  Elizabeth stood there, very quiet. ‘One of the things Phillip told me was that my father had been responsible for blinding him.’

  ‘And you thought the business with Mary might have been a case of history repeating itself?’

  Tears appeared at the corners of her eyes. ‘I didn’t know what to think. I’m so confused I don’t know my own mind.’ She turned around and stared out at the open space. ‘But that’s the reason I’ve been hiding from my father; why I write to him rather than visit him in person. It’s why I refused to go to the West Indies. I don’t know what to say to him any more. I always adored him, even as a child. And now he’s so thin and weak. I’m afraid he’s going to die ...’

  Without thinking about it, Pyke went and stood next to her. When she looked up at him, her cheeks were stained with tears. Perhaps she was lying to him but Pyke wasn’t sure; every detail of her story matched what he’d been told in Jamaica. Still, he wasn’t wholly convinced by her performance. And more to the point, she was, according to Field at least, Crane’s mistress.

  Elizabeth looked back towards the row of houses behind them. ‘Could you help me to look for him?’ She untied the ribbon under her chin, removed her bonnet and allowed her long black hair to be tousled by the breeze.

  ‘Who, Phillip?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I could always try, assuming you know where I might look for him.’

  ‘Me?’ She seemed surprised at his request.

  ‘Per
haps he said something to you, gave you a clue as to his whereabouts?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’ They started to walk back towards his house.

  ‘Did you know that a man called Arthur Sobers is due to stand trial for the murder of Mary Edgar tomorrow?’

  She kept on walking. ‘So soon?’

  ‘Is that all you’ve got to say?’

  This time she stopped. ‘What else do you want me to say?’ But the lightness in her tone had gone.