Fair and Tender Ladies (25 page)

‘You know who she was?' He hoped as he waited for the answer.

The girl shook her head. ‘But I think I saw summat,' she said.

‘What?' he asked.

Kate took a breath. ‘Well, it were late Sunday last. Middle of the night. I'd no money nor food so I thought I'd go out and see if anyone were looking.' She glanced at him and he nodded for her to continue. ‘There's allus a few out late and some of them might be in the mood. I'd given my little one a tot of gin, so I knew she'd sleep. Anyway, there were no one with owt to spend.' He listened patiently, waiting for whatever she really had to tell him. ‘I went out along Mill Hill, up toward Shaw Well and Boar Lane to see if there might be anyone there. You know where I mean?' He nodded, fixing it in his mind's eye. ‘I saw someone taking the path down towards the woods there.'

‘Was he carrying anything?' He could feel his heart beating faster.

‘Summat.' She shrugged again. ‘It were too dark to see much. But I'll tell you, he were a right big bugger. I could tell that.'

‘Why didn't you say anything before?'

Kate looked at him as if he was simple. ‘What was I going to say, Mr Lister? I didn't know who he were. It could have been nowt.'

‘What time was this?'

‘Two, three mebbe. I'd not even have thought about it again if there hadn't been talk about the lass who was found, and then seen you.'

‘Did you see the man's hands at all?' Rob asked hopefully.

‘His hands?' She stared at him blankly. ‘No. Why?'

‘It doesn't matter.' He fumbled in the pocket of his coat and passed her a coin, seeing the brief flash of gratitude on her face before she left.

‘What do you think, boss?'

‘It could be anything,' the Constable said carefully. ‘But at that time of night I'd wager it was nothing legal. It's a pity that lass didn't see his hands.' He stroked his chin. ‘One thing bothers me, though.'

‘What's that?'

‘I just wonder … Jem Carter was beaten, he'd had his throat cut. The girl we found had no marks on her at all. Whatever did for her, it wasn't violence. I think it was probably poison. People don't usually change the way they kill. It doesn't make sense.' He paused, thinking. ‘Everyone who's seen him has said how big he is. If he's that large, why can't we find him?

‘Maybe we're not looking in the right places.'

Nottingham sat back and looked at Lister. ‘What do you mean?'

‘He's somewhere in Leeds, we know that much,' Rob began. The Constable nodded, and he continued, ‘Maybe he's keeping out of sight during the day.'

‘I'd believe that, except old Hercules at the Rose and Crown saw the man eating with someone he thought was his sister.'

‘Perhaps they're both killers. She's the poisoner and he was getting rid of the body.'

‘It's possible,' Nottingham agreed reluctantly. He didn't know; it just felt too complicated. ‘But why those two? Carter didn't have anything. Neither did the dead girl, from the look of her.'

‘I don't know.'

The Constable steepled his fingers under his chin. ‘Neither do I. There's no sense behind it.'

‘And then there's Jenny Carter's suicide. Maybe there's more to that, too.'

‘No,' Nottingham disagreed. ‘There's nothing to show she didn't kill herself. Unless we learn something, we have to believe that.'

‘Yes, boss.'

Rob spent much of the morning asking after a large man with big hands. Someone like that should stand out, especially if there was a sister. A few claimed to have noticed him but had paid no mind, nothing more than a pinprick in their memories.

And he wasn't going to forget about the school, either. Even if there was no more damage, the business wasn't over until the man was caught. Yet he felt he was going round and round, simply chasing himself. No one had any information.

Yet by late afternoon he knew no more about anything than he had first thing that morning. Another day of frustration. If John … he started to think, then stopped himself. That was history now. It was over. He was the deputy. He had to live up to everything Sedgwick had taught him.

Emily was pacing in the schoolroom, her face drawn, biting her lip. As soon as she saw him, she gathered up her books, waiting as the closed the shutters and locked up.

‘How were they?' Rob asked.

‘Fine.' Her tone was sharp enough to make him stop.

‘What is it?'

She shook her head and started off along the Calls, fast enough that he had to hurry to catch up, suddenly worried.

‘What's wrong? What's happened? Tell me, please.' But she said nothing.

He followed her along the path by the river, beyond the warehouses, then up a track into a copse. She'd brought him here once before, to show him the secret place she'd shared with her sister, back when they were children, when Rose was still alive. Now, with the bushes and branches full and thick, the hollow was hidden, a place apart from the world where no one would interrupt them. Emily settled on a fallen log, smoothing down her dress. Rob sat beside her, anxious, trying not to press her, to let her air her troubles when she was ready.

She picked a thread from the skirt, fidgeting, her face set, anxious.

‘I'm going to have a baby,' Emily said finally, staring straight ahead. There was no joy in her voice.

‘What?' He'd been expecting something terrible, his mind racing through every bad thing that could have happened. But he'd never thought of this. ‘Are you sure?'

The look she gave him was withering. ‘Of course I'm sure. Mama taught me how to know.' She stood, walking around the clearing in quick circles. ‘I don't want this,' she told him. ‘Not now.'

‘But …' he began, then didn't know what to say. He rose, ready to hold her, to comfort her, but she moved away.

‘I've only just started the school.'

He let the silence grow for ten heartbeats, then asked,

‘What are we going to do?' A woman became pregnant, her belly grew, she gave birth and then there was the baby; that was all he knew. Even with Emily, he'd never truly imagined himself a father. The two of them simply existed together. They were, and that was all. The thought of someone else, a child, had never been part of it. He hadn't looked that far ahead.

‘I don't know,' she answered emptily, slumping next to him, then putting her head against his chest and sighing. ‘I've been trying to think of that since I first realized.'

‘How long have you known?'

‘Long enough. Lucy guessed.'

In the world where he'd grown up, the rules were unwritten but perfectly clear. No wife would work. She was there to keep a home, to provide an heir or daughters to marry off. But Emily had made her own world, so different from everything he'd known before.

‘We'll need to marry,' Rob said, and she nodded glumly. She'd always said she'd never wed, never be the property of a man, and he'd accepted that. But this changed everything. She knew that as well as he did. She was the Constable's daughter. Folk might turn a blind eye to Rob lodging in the house, but for Emily to be pregnant and unmarried was out of the question; it would never be tolerated.

‘I know.' She sounded so small, lost, hopeless. He'd never seen her like this before. Even after her mother's death, in the long silences of grieving, there'd been a sense of iron about her. Now everything she'd believed in was falling away around her. ‘Can I trust you enough?' she asked, looking straight into his eyes.

‘Yes.' He didn't hesitate. If she was his wife, all she owned would become his; that was the law. The money she'd inherited and used to start the school would belong to him. He could spend it however he chose and she had no recourse. ‘I don't want your money. You know that.' He paused. ‘I love you.'

She tried to smile. ‘I'm scared, Rob. I'm terrified. This, the school …' Her voice trailed away.

‘We'll manage,' he told her. ‘Your father—'

Emily shook her head quickly. ‘I don't want him to know. Not yet. Please.'

He nodded. In the past he'd dreamed she'd turn to him with the desire to get married, but never like this, drifting into it because there was no other choice. He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it lightly. She didn't pull away this time.

‘I'm not going to give up teaching,' she said after a while. ‘I can't. Not now. The girls need me.'

‘But you'll have to,' he told her.

‘Why?' she asked. ‘Why? Tell me that. I'll still be the same person. I can teach just as well when I'm carrying a child or after it's born.'

He couldn't answer. All he knew was the way he'd been taught, what was acceptable.

‘Those girls in school,' she continued, her voice rising, ‘do you think they'll be able to stop working once they've had a baby? Half their mothers have to take in laundry to help make ends meet. They won't be shocked if I'm in school. They're the ones I care about.'

‘I just want you to be happy,' Rob said, but his words seemed feeble, not strong enough for all this.

‘Then find whoever's trying to harm the school,' she snapped. ‘That would be a start.'

‘We're trying.'

Emily took a long breath. ‘We'd better go home,' she said. ‘Lucy will be wondering what's happened to us.'

B
y Saturday there had been no more incidents at the school, but still no word of who'd done the damage. A few more claimed to have seen the man with large hands who could have been Jem Carter's killer, but still no one could name him. Each day left the Constable more frustrated. He felt like a fool, unable to find someone who should stand out so easily.

When the bell rang for the start of the cloth market he paced up and down Briggate. He'd completed three circuits, not really paying attention to what was happening, when a hand tugged at his sleeve.

‘Richard.' He turned, seeing Tom Williamson smiling at him.

‘I'm sorry, I was thinking.'

‘I've been trying to attract your attention.'

‘Is something wrong?'

‘No, nothing like that.' He drew Nottingham away. ‘I just wanted to tell you the Corporation's decided not to rebuild the workhouse. It's what we suspected.' He hesitated, then asked, ‘Any word on who started the fire?'

‘No.' The Constable shook his head, not saying he'd done nothing to look. ‘No one's going to admit that. Can you blame them?'

‘I suppose not.' For once the merchant was soberly dressed in a dark grey coat and breeches, workaday shoes on his feet. He saw Nottingham looking and grinned. ‘I was dressed and out before Hannah was up. I feel much more comfortable like this.'

‘Tell me, can you think of a big man with large hands?'

‘What?' The question took Williamson aback for a moment, then he thought. ‘Not really. A few who are tall or broad, I suppose, but you know most of them. Why?'

‘Someone I'm trying to find, that's all.'

‘Is this to do with the school?'

‘A killing. But we haven't forgotten the school, don't worry about that.'

‘I have faith in you, Richard. Now I'd better see about getting this cloth I've bought to the warehouse.'

At least someone had faith, Nottingham thought as the merchant walked away. He was fast losing his.

By dinner he'd stopped three men to question them, each one towering above him. Two had been poor, their clothes more covering than decoration. The third had an expensive coat and breeches, his dark hair carefully dressed, and for a moment the Constable let himself believe he'd found his man. But he was a cloth agent, a man who made his living on the road, with signed documents in his pocket to show he'd been in King's Lynn the night Jem Carter was murdered. With an apology he'd let the bemused man go.

At the White Swan he brooded over his meal, drinking and picking at the food. Clouds had drifted in during the morning. No promise of rain but they were enough to clamp the heat close to the ground, making skin prickle and tempers fray.

Rob appeared and sat on the bench. He pushed a hand through his hair so it stood on end. ‘The bastard's somewhere.'

‘We'll find him. Even if it takes a while,' Nottingham said with a confidence he wasn't sure he felt. ‘We do what we can. Even a new deputy can't solve everything immediately.'

Lister pursed his lips. ‘Boss, I'm not sure I'm the right person for the job. Not after Mr Sedgwick.'

Nottingham smiled gently. ‘I think you'll become a fine deputy.' He chose his words carefully. ‘I know you're not John. Don't try to be.'

A sudden cry made them sit upright and glance out of the window. A man was running down Kirkgate. A big man in good, dark clothes.

‘Go!' the Constable ordered.

His lungs were burning. His feet pounded on the ground. Rob had chased the man past the Parish Church and over Timble Bridge. He'd gained a few yards but the man kept on moving, glancing over his shoulder as he crossed the fields and began the scramble up Cavalier Hill.

Rob picked up speed as a second wind coursed through him. He drew close enough to make out the man's features when he looked back, frantic fear in his eyes.

The man stumbled, reaching out to clutch at the grass and pull himself quickly upright, near the top of the hill. Rob pushed himself harder. He could hear the man panting now and smell the sweat from his body. He reached out, fingers closing around the man's ankle to send him tumbling and spinning helplessly down the far side of the hill. He didn't try to rise again.

Rob bent over, hands on his knees. His breeches were dusty, legs shaking. He unwound the stock from his neck and wiped his face with it, keeping his eyes fixed on the man, ready to pursue if he tried to move.