Fair and Tender Ladies (17 page)

‘Aye,' he agreed with a sigh. ‘Let it go until tomorrow.' He looked down at the little girl, her head to one side, eyelids moving as she dreamed. ‘How long before she wakes?'

‘Hours, I hope.'

‘And James is asleep?'

‘Yes.'

‘Been too long since we had time to ourselves.'

Her lips curled into a smile. ‘What did you have in mind, John Sedgwick?'

‘Just something to ease our minds a little.'

‘I've no idea what you mean, sir,' she said coyly.

‘Happen I'd better show you, then,' he winked.

H
e woke early, the way he always did, sliding out of bed without waking Lizzie or disturbing James on his pallet. He found bread and the remains of some cheese, and scraped away the mould with his knife. That and some ale, it was a breakfast for a king.

The morning air was warm, another hot day in the making, and he left his stock loose as he walked to the jail. Rob was there, sitting back in the chair, the night report complete and waiting on the desk.

‘Nothing more at the school?' Sedgwick asked.

‘Everything's quiet. I checked every hour.' Lister stood and stretched.

‘How's Emily?'

‘Quiet,' he said after a moment. ‘She's terrified, but she'd never admit it.'

‘If I were a lass and someone was doing that to me, I'd be scared, too. What about the rest of it? Busy night?'

Lister shrugged. ‘Saturday night, hot weather.' He lifted his hand to show the cuts on his knuckles. ‘You know what it's like. Always some who want to show what they can do.'

‘Many in the cells?'

‘Just five, the worst of them. It's all written down ready for the Petty Sessions tomorrow.'

‘I'm worried about the boss,' the deputy said. ‘This business at the school's all he can think about now.'

‘Do you blame him? It's his own daughter.'

‘Aye, true,' he said doubtfully. The Constable hadn't been himself since his wife had died. Only to be expected, but there were still crimes that had to be solved. ‘Anyway, I might have something on Jem Carter's murder.'

‘Oh? What's that?'

‘Someone I was talking to yesterday. I'm seeing him again this morning. If it's anything I'll tell you. You'd best get yourself home and all prettied up for church.' He looked at the lad's strained, careworn face and grinned. ‘Mind you, from the look of you there might never be enough time for that.'

He checked on the men still sleeping off their ale and bruises in the cells, then started on his rounds. The clock struck six, already full light. Another two hours and maybe he'd have something useful from the night watchman. Then the boss would have to pay attention.

The deputy walked along Vicar Lane, then up the hill of the Head Row before returning down Briggate. A few folk were out, those who had jobs even on the Sabbath, trudging along wearily. He felt a spring in his step, the warmth and joy of the weather as he slipped into Currie Entry.

The blow exploded against the back of his head and sent him sprawling to his knees. Before he could move he was being kicked hard. Sedgwick struggled to open his eyes, but they wouldn't do what he wanted. As he started to reach for his knife a heel came down hard on his hand and he felt searing pain as the bones broke.

The deputy tried to curl into a ball, but the boots were relentless, on his body and his face. He tasted blood in his mouth and felt it gushing from his nose. He tried to push himself away, across the ground, but the boots and blows followed, each kick hard and vicious, never letting up until the blackness came and he knew nothing more.

People fade from memory, Nottingham thought as he lay in the darkness. The shutters were open wide to let in some sweet, cool night air and he breathed deeply, thinking of those he had loved and lost, trying to summon their images in his mind. Mary, Rose, his mother, even Amos Worthy, as much friend as foe.

Mary's face was fixed clear; he still saw it every day in quiet corners, still talked to her. But the others … now, when he tried to imagine them, their features were like old ink on paper, faded, hard to make out, the details gone, edges blurred.

He stretched out his arm across the bed and his fingers sketched out the shape her body would have made. Finally sleep claimed him, taking him into dreams that vanished with the morning, leaving only the sense of loss that came with every day.

The Constable walked down Marsh Lane with Lucy on his arm, Emily and Rob a few yards behind. The bell at the Parish Church was pealing for morning service as they crossed Timble Bridge. The sound of running footsteps made him glance up and he saw Bob Holden pounding down Kirkgate towards them.

‘You'd better come quick, boss. It's Mr Sedgwick.'

The Constable looked at Emily and Lucy. ‘Go in by yourselves,' he said, and began to race up the street with Rob close behind.

‘What happened?' Nottingham asked.

‘I don't know,' Holden answered, breathing hard. ‘One of the men saw him on the rounds but he didn't come to the jail and tell us what to do. I sent them out looking for him.'

‘Where is he?'

‘Currie Entry. He looks bad, boss.'

Most of the day men were gathered around, muttering and trying to avoid looking. The Constable pushed through them, knelt by Sedgwick and put his fingertips against the man's neck. There was a pulse; he was alive. But there was plenty of blood on the flagstones around his head, his eyes were swollen shut, and the man's right hand was a mass of crumpled bone and flesh.

‘Get the stretcher and send for the apothecary,' he ordered quickly.

‘Already done it, boss,' Holden said quietly.

Nottingham stared down at the face, feeling the man barely breathing. Christ, he thought. ‘I want everyone out. Rouse the night men, too, Rob. Ask questions. I need to know who saw him this morning. Anything at all. Understood?'

He pushed himself upright and turned to Holden. ‘Have him carried home. I'll go and see Lizzie now.'

‘Yes, boss.'

‘He was supposed to meet someone who had information on Jem Carter's murder,' Rob said.

‘Who?'

‘He didn't tell me the name.'

‘Find him.' He raised his voice. ‘You're in charge for now. I'll be at the jail in a while.' He raised his voice. ‘I want whoever did this and I want him today. There's a guinea for whoever brings him in.' And he strode away quickly, his face set and hard.

He could hear voices inside, Lizzie's and James's, playing a game of some kind. He knocked and there was sudden silence. Then Lizzie opened the door.

‘Mr Nottingham,' she began, a question in her voice, wondering why he'd come. Then she understood and her face began to crumple, hand rising to cover her mouth, the other going to her belly as if she'd just been struck. She began to moan and he moved forward, holding her tightly as she started to shake.

‘He's alive, Lizzie,' he said gently. ‘He's alive.'

She pulled away from him, tears pouring down her cheeks, and her hand reached out for James. The boy looked up at him without a word.

‘They're bringing him back here,' the Constable continued, keeping his voice calm.

She was gulping for air and he helped her on to the bench. Isabell was still asleep in her crib. Nottingham knelt down in front of Lizzie.

‘I don't know how bad it is,' he told her. ‘The apothecary will be here and he's going to do everything he can.'

‘How?' she asked, barely able to speak the word. ‘What happened?'

‘I don't know yet.' He took her hand again. ‘He's going to need plenty of care. A bed down here.' Nottingham stared at her until she nodded, then he turned to James. ‘You'll need to be very grown up while your da's sick.'

‘Yes, sir,' the boy answered. His eyes were wide.

‘Do everything your mam tells you, understand?'

‘I will, sir.' He could tell that the lad didn't understand what was going on, that he was scared and trying to be brave.

‘Good.' Nottingham smiled and tousled James's hair. ‘Lizzie,' he said, and repeated her name to pull her out of her thoughts. ‘We're going to find whoever did this. I promise. And we'll have John back on his feet before you know it.'

He prayed it was true, that the injuries were no worse than they appeared. He'd seen men look as bad as that before and be back to work within a month. But there was no saying what else might be wrong.

‘I'll come back later,' he told her. ‘If there's anything you need, anything at all, let me know and I'll make sure you have it.'

She nodded numbly. She'd heard the words. Whether she'd taken them in was another matter. He pressed her hand lightly then left to walk quickly back to the jail.

He found Lucy waiting outside. ‘Where's Emily?' he asked her.

‘She stayed for the service with a friend of hers. I heard what happened to Mr Sedgwick.'

He unlocked the door and she followed him in.

‘Is it all over town?' he asked.

‘Must be by now. Is he going to live?'

‘I don't know,' Nottingham answered bleakly. ‘I hope so.'

‘Where have they taken him?'

‘Home.' He didn't need these questions now, not when he was trying to think, to start the hunt for John's attacker.

‘Who's going to look after those little ones?' Lucy persisted. He hadn't even considered it; his thoughts hadn't gone that far.

‘Mr Nottingham.' She stood directly in front of him as he tried to pace, making him pay attention. ‘If he's as bad as that, she's going to have her hands full. She won't be able to take care of the bairns as well.'

It was true, he realized. The deputy was going to need all Lizzie's care and time.

‘I'm going over there,' Lucy decided.

He nodded. It was exactly what Mary would have done: given help where she could.

‘Stay as long as she needs you,' he said. ‘Rob and I won't be seeing much of home until we find who did this.' He paused, then added, ‘When the apothecary's examined Mr Sedgwick, will you ask him to come here?'

‘Yes. Keep someone watching the school, too,' she said. ‘Please.'

And she was gone.

He sat at the desk, trying to think who'd attack the deputy. The list was long, men he'd arrested, men he'd questioned and pushed for information. But he'd go through every one of them and more to find who'd done it, and he'd make sure the culprit swung from the gallows.

Outside people were passing, the cheery talk of families making their way back from the churches, but he paid them little mind. All he could do was wait for some word, anything, from someone.

When the door opened, the Constable looked up expectantly. It was the apothecary, Leadhall, a youthful man who'd taken over when the old one died three months before.

‘How is he?' Nottingham asked. His mouth was dry and he gripped the chair tightly.

‘Bad.' The man put his heavy leather bag on the desk and sighed. ‘Very bad. He could die.'

‘Die?' The word seemed to fill the room.

John couldn't die.

‘H
e hasn't woken yet. I don't know what damage there is inside his body.' Leadhall began to list the injuries. ‘His nose has been smashed hard, his jaw's broken, several ribs gone. His right hand's ruined. Even if he lives, I doubt he'll ever use it properly again. He's bruised all over and it looks like his skull's cracked where he was hit with something.'

‘What do you think?' Nottingham asked seriously.

‘I don't know,' the apothecary answered finally. ‘That was a brutal beating he took. Even if he lives he won't be the same person. He might not be able to walk again or do anything for himself.' He shrugged helplessly. ‘Maybe dying would be a blessing.'

The Constable ran a hand through his hair.

‘I'll go back and see him this evening,' Leadhall continued. ‘I've told them to send word if he wakes.'

‘Thank you.'

He felt empty, the numbness rising inside. He knew it had been severe, but he'd never expected this. Nottingham looked around the room, not sure he could imagine the place without the deputy as part of it. People died, God alone knew how he wore that pain, but John … it didn't seem possible.

He was still thinking when Rob bustled in.

‘Everyone's out and looking, boss. A few remember hearing someone running early on but no one saw anything.'

‘I'll be out with you soon,' he said bleakly.

‘How's John? What did Leadhall say?'

‘He could die.'

‘Die?' The word seemed to halt him. ‘But—'

‘At the very least he might never work again.'

‘Jesus.' Rob hissed the word.

‘For right now you're my deputy. Put your best man in charge of the nights.' The Constable could feel his heart beating fast, his palms were slick and damp.

‘Yes, boss.'

‘Who had John seen lately, who had he talked to?'

‘I know he went to see Leviticus Holt yesterday.'

‘I'll talk to him. Get every name you can, go and see them. Do whatever you have to do. I want answers on this.'

‘Yes.'

‘Lucy's gone to help Lizzie. I don't want Emily staying in the house on her own.'

Rob thought for a moment. ‘What about the Williamsons?'

The Constable nodded. ‘Good idea. I'll send Tom Williamson a note. I still want you escorting her to and from the school, and I want to keep someone on Call Brows at night. The women have their men out on the Calls.'

‘Yes, boss.'

Nottingham pushed his way into the tumbling old house and down the stairs. Before he entered the room he pulled out the cudgel, then he stormed in and dragged Holt out of his bed on to the floor.