Fair and Tender Ladies (12 page)

‘I know,' he said gently. He could feel her fingers gripping his tightly, squeezing against him. ‘Come on,' he said, keeping his voice low. ‘We're nearly there.'

For once they arrived at the school before the pupils. He waited as she unlocked the door with the heavy key, her hands fumbling with the lock.

‘Let me go in first,' Rob said.

‘No,' she said, and the vehemence of her reply surprised him. ‘This is my school.' He opened his mouth, but she continued, ‘I don't care what Papa told you. I have to do it this way. I
have
to.'

Rob nodded and followed her inside. He pulled back the shutters and let light into the room. It was exactly as he'd seen it when he'd come during the night, everything still in place, the lock hanging from the back door where it had been forced open.

Emily put her books on the table that served as her desk.

‘Why?' she asked him. ‘Why do they want to do this?'

‘I don't know.'

‘We're helping people. We're not hurting anyone.' She looked around the room, her eyes bleak. ‘You know, I'd actually started to believe the other night was nothing.'

‘People round here want you,' he reminded her. ‘You saw the way the women had their husbands out before.'

‘Someone doesn't.'

‘We'll find him,' Rob promised. ‘We're going to have someone watching the place all the time.'

‘A school that someone has to guard …' She let the words tail away.

‘And we'll have someone fit a new lock here and on the back gate.'

Emily walked around the room, her fingertips sliding across the wood of the tables and benches.

‘The girls will be here soon. I'm not going to let anything happen to them.'

‘They'll be safe,' he assured her gently, and added, ‘So will you.'

‘How do I tell them? How do I tell them that someone hates them so much he wants to destroy all this?'

‘Don't,' he said, seeing the astonishment on her face. ‘Please. Your father doesn't want anyone else to know.'

‘But—' she began.

‘There's no need to scare them.'

She pushed her lips together. Her eyes glistened but he knew Emily wouldn't let the tears fall.

‘We want to catch whoever's doing this,' Rob continued. ‘Think about it. If the women here send their men out again we won't be able to do that. Please.'

He waited as she weighed her answer.

‘I won't say a word,' she agreed reluctantly.

‘Thank you.' He kissed her. ‘I'll come back this afternoon to walk you home.'

He walked across Timble Bridge in the sunlight, feeling bitter at his impotence, unable to do anything to ease her fears. He smelt the honeysuckle and the heady scent of the roses climbing in the hedgerows but for once they didn't bring a smile.

As he entered the house on Marsh Lane he could feel exhaustion creeping through his body. Lucy came through from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, and stared hard at him.

‘Tell me what's happened,' she said. ‘And don't say it's nothing, I can see it on your face.'

He explained it to her, seeing her cheeks flush with anger.

‘I'll go and spend nights there meself,' she offered when he'd finished.

‘There's no need. We're going to have someone watching the place all the time.'

She snorted. ‘Aye, and I know how good that is.'

‘Do you really think Mr Nottingham would let anything happen to her?' Rob asked. ‘Do you think I would?'

‘It already has, though, hasn't it?' She shook her head. ‘Words don't mean owt.'

‘We'll find whoever's done it.'

‘Mebbe,' Her voice was filled with doubt. ‘That lass is going to be scared.' She pulled the knife from the pocket in her dress. He knew she kept the blade sharp and ready; those years of living wild had left her cautious. Even the months in this house, safe and secure, with a home, hadn't managed to remove that.

‘We'll look after her.'

‘All of us,' she said, staring at him.

‘Yes,' he agreed. ‘All of us. I'm off to my bed now, but I'll go back to the school this afternoon.'

The Constable sat staring at the slate for a long time. He'd sent a note to the locksmith, asking him to secure the gate at the school and go back later to repair the back door and fit a solid bar to it.

Who? Who would want to do this? Who would hate the idea of girls being educated so much?

He heard the bell ring for the cloth market but he didn't move; for once they could look after themselves. The minutes passed as he stared at nothing; finally he roused himself, scribbled out his daily report, and left it at the Moot Hall before making his way to the Tuesday market at the top of Briggate.

Crowds packed the street, cries of ‘What do you need? What do you lack?' coming from the stalls, the patter of the sellers entertaining the women, making them laugh and shriek in delight.

He smiled and nodded at the faces he knew, stopping to talk to a few, asking a single question: who did they know who didn't want girls educated? He moved again, seeing someone he knew and working through the press of people for a few more words.

Finally Nottingham pushed his way out, able to breathe more easily away from the rank smell of unwashed bodies. He walked down to the Calls, standing out of sight, close enough to the school to hear Emily's voice through the open windows. After a few minutes he cut round to Call Brows, counting off the houses until he found the right one, checking that the workman had done a good job on the gate. The wall was a head taller than him but nothing a young man couldn't scale. Later he'd have someone put a layer of mortar at the top and push broken glass into it, hating himself for making the place into a fortress yet knowing he'd do anything to keep his daughter and everything she loved safe.

By the time he reached the White Swan for his dinner the deputy was already there. The Constable raised his eyebrows questioningly and saw Sedgwick give a brief shake of his head. He sat wearily on the bench.

‘I've been asking round a little,' Nottingham told him. ‘No one seems to know who'd want to do ruin to the school.'

‘So what do we do now, boss?'

The Constable took a long drink of his ale. ‘You know,' he said thoughtfully, ‘I saw Simon Johnson up at the market last Saturday.'

‘Who?'

‘The brother of that man killed by the mob. The one who cursed us all.'

‘He's still here? What do you think? He's behind this?'

‘I'm not sure,' the Constable admitted. ‘But if he hates Leeds so much I wonder why he's still here.'

‘Do you want me to look for him?'

‘No, leave it with me. I know what he looks like.'

‘I checked earlier. The only people who've been at the back of the school today are the locksmith and you.'

‘Whoever it is, he'll be back,' Nottingham warned grimly. ‘Folk like that can't keep away once they've started.'

‘We'll have him when he returns,' the deputy said. ‘How's Emily?'

‘I haven't seen her yet.' The Constable stroked his chin. ‘I left that to Rob. She knows she can always talk to me.'

‘I know what I'd like to do when we find him.'

‘It's not just you,' the Constable said darkly. ‘But we'll make sure he faces justice. Like everyone else, John,'

‘Not if the people who live round there catch him first.' If that happened, there'd be another man murdered by the mob.

‘Something else you should know about,' Nottingham told him. He explained about Tom Finer, his history and his plan for the workhouse.

‘He could make good money there,' Sedgwick surmised.

‘I know. And as long as they're not having to pay, the Corporation won't care how he does it.'

‘Do you think he could have changed, boss?'

The Constable shook his head. ‘No. Maybe he really did come back here for his old age. I can believe that. But I know what he's like – if he sees a chance, he's going to take it. That's his way. He's sly, John, he always was. He's the only one I've ever seen who could get the better of Amos Worthy. And he still knows secrets about some important people here.'

‘What are you going to do about it?'

‘I've warned Tom Williamson.' He sighed. ‘I really don't know what else I can do. I've written to London to try and find out what he did down there. But it's the folk in the Moot Hall who'll be making the decision.'

‘And the poor who'll pay the price.'

‘Isn't it always?' Nottingham asked drily.

‘We should tell Bessie so she can warn all those down by the river.'

‘I'm going down there. I want to ask her about Simon Johnson, anyway.'

‘What do you want me doing this afternoon, boss?'

‘See if you can find anything about the school,' he replied without even thinking. ‘And Carter and his sister,' he added.

A
cart had lost a wheel just up from the bridge and tipped its load out across the road. The driver was holding the horse, calming it with gentle words and watching as two apprentices from the blacksmith sweated to work the rim back on to the axle and secure it.

The road was blocked, the traffic at a standstill. A small crowd had gathered, and one or two of the men loudly offered advice; small boys darted in and out among the people. One of the barrels had cracked, spilling salt, and women scooped it quickly into their bags.

Nottingham saw one of his men standing on the other side of the road. He nodded and walked on; another ten minutes and everything would be moving again. He clattered down the old stone steps besides Leeds Bridge and strolled out along the bank.

The river moved lazily, its sound barely more than a whisper in the still air. A pair of willows hung out over the water as if they were leaning in to drink. The grass was flattened and he saw rings of stones and charred patches where the fires burned at night. There was a small shelter up in the treeline, and he crossed the open space.

As he approached Bessie came out, standing with a knife in her hand until she recognized him and grinned.

‘Mr Nottingham,' she said warmly. ‘I can't remember the last time you were down here. It's usually Mr Lister.'

She seemed to have grown even stouter in the months since he'd seen her last, more flesh on her arms, her waist thicker. But the smile was the same, and she carried herself with the same regal neatness, her clothes old, but always neat and clean.

He pushed the fringe off his forehead and asked, ‘Are they behaving for you, Bessie?'

‘Good and bad, same as ever,' she replied with a small shrug. ‘At least with this weather there aren't as many of them. Some have gone off to the farms looking for work. How are you?' She looked pointedly at him and he understood her meaning.

‘I miss her,' he said simply. There was no need for more. ‘I'm looking for a man called Simon Johnson.'

‘I know who you mean, he's been here. Eyes as sad as the world, the one whose brother …?'

‘That's him,' the Constable nodded. ‘Where is he now?'

‘I've not seen him in a little while. He spent a few days down here. Always kept himself to himself, didn't want to talk much. Has he done something?'

‘I don't know. There's been some trouble at my daughter's school. I just wanted to ask him about it.'

‘What's happened?' she asked. ‘Come on, sit down and tell your Aunt Bessie about it.'

She listened attentively, pouring them ale from a jug in her shelter and asking questions when he was done.

‘You think Simon might be doing it?' she asked.

‘I've no idea, Bessie,' he said with a frustrated sigh. ‘I was just surprised to see him still in Leeds. I wondered if he had a reason.'

‘I don't know what to tell you, Mr Nottingham. I'll send word if he comes back and I'll keep my ears open. We need that school. And you need to keep her safe.'

‘I do.' He tried to smile but it was a weak, wan effort. ‘You ought to know, there's talk about re-opening the workhouse.'

‘I'd not heard anything about that.' Her voice rose sharply.

‘They're keeping it quiet for now.'

She frowned, knowing full well what it meant. There'd be no more camp; men, woman and children would all be pushed away into the large old building. ‘I can see it in your eyes, though. You think it'll happen.'

‘Maybe,' he said. ‘I hope not.'

‘Do you know when?'

‘Not yet. As soon as I find something out, I'll tell you.'

‘What do you think we should do?' Bessie asked.

‘I'm not sure there's anything you can do. The wheels are already in motion.'

She reached out, taking his hand between both of hers. He felt the calluses on her palms and the warmth of her skin.

‘Thank you,' she said. ‘I'll tell everyone.'

Rob waited with Emily in the school room while the locksmith finished the door. He lowered the bar into place and handed her the key.

‘There'll not be anyone coming in through there now.'

‘Thank you,' she said. ‘How much do I owe you?'

‘Nay, lass,' the workman told her with a smile. ‘No charge. I owe Mr Nottingham a basket full of favours.' He gathered up his tools and left.

‘That's saved you money, anyway,' Rob said.

‘I'd sooner have paid him myself,' she answered, a bristly edge to her voice.

‘But you asked Mr Williamson for money for books, and you took the money his wife offered,' he pointed out, confused.

‘They're not family,' she told him. ‘I don't want to be Papa's girl.' She looked around. ‘This is
mine
. Do you understand?'

He nodded. To him, help was help, but it was better to say nothing; he knew her pride.