Fair and Tender Ladies (29 page)

‘Constable.' She stood inside the door, hands on her hips. ‘I hope it's something important that brings you here. We keep late hours, I've told you before.'

He gave a small bow. ‘It is important. As I told your daughter, I'd like your whole family here.'

‘You'll have me until I know what you want.'

Nottingham smiled, keeping his tone gentle. ‘I'm sure I don't have to remind you that I'm the Constable here in Leeds, Mrs Wade.'

Grudgingly, she nodded, disappearing again to return five minutes later with her daughters.

‘Might I ask where you lived before you came to Leeds?' Nottingham began.

‘Why does it matter?' Mrs Wade countered.

‘Indulge me, please.'

‘York,' she answered.

‘Not Whitby?'

‘Whitby?' she asked incredulously. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?'

‘Two of your children were heard talking about it.'

She shot a glance at her girls, then said, ‘I wouldn't know about that. But we've never even been there.'

‘Do you know a family called Briggs?'

‘Briggs?' She frowned and he kept his eyes on her, watching for any glimpse of fear. ‘No, I don't. Why?'

‘There was a family in Whitby by that name. A widow with two daughters and a son. You have a girl named Anne.'

‘I do.'

‘That's curious. Mrs Briggs had a daughter named Anne, too.'

She shrugged. ‘Coincidences happen, Constable.'

‘They do,' he acknowledged. ‘I don't see your son.'

‘He'll be down shortly. Now what's all this about? You didn't come here to compare names.'

Nottingham turned to the fair-haired daughter, the one who had let them into the house.

‘You're Anne?'

She looked towards her mother then nodded.

‘I need to take you into custody to be sent to Whitby, Miss Wade.'

‘What for?' her mother interrupted.

‘Suspicion of murder.'

‘No!' Mrs Wade shouted. ‘My Anne would never do anything like that.'

‘Then perhaps you did, or maybe her sister. I'll need to take you all to the jail; Anne will be sent on to Whitby.'

The room erupted in a babble of female voices. Then the door opened and a young man entered. He was tall, shoulders very broad, hands down at his sides. The son, Nottingham thought. Mark Wade.

‘What's all this about?' he asked, his voice raised. His dark hair was combed and he'd taken the time to dress well in a fashionable black coat.

‘I'm sending your sister to Whitby to be questioned about a murder.'

‘Be damned you are.'

‘I am,' the Constable told him firmly.

‘Boss,' Rob said quietly, directing his gaze. Nottingham stared at the man's hands. They were large, far larger than normal. He looked at the man's hard eyes. ‘And I'm arresting you for the murder of Jem Carter.'

‘Who?'

‘Enough!' Mrs Wade cried. ‘First you want my daughter, now you want my son. I have friends among the aldermen, Constable, I warn you.'

‘I'm sure they'll visit you in the jail and listen to your complaints. Rob, tie Miss Wade's hands and then Mr Wade's.'

Lister took rope from his pocket, wrapping it around the girl's wrists as she looked beseechingly at her mother. He moved towards Mark Wade. In a quick movement the man pushed a big hand into Rob's chest, sending him sprawling backwards into the Constable.

Wade ran. Nottingham heard shouts from outside as he picked himself up, followed by silence. Mark Wade hadn't managed to go too far, it seemed.

Anne stood against the wall, weeping softly. The other women had vanished.

‘I'll take this one,' he told Lister. ‘You make sure the men caught everyone.'

‘Yes, boss.'

The Constable leaned close to Anne's ear and whispered, ‘We both know you did it. It'll be better for you if you tell me everything.'

The girl just shook her head. He took hold of her arm and guided her out into the sunlight. Mark was there, heavily bound, cuts on his face, held still by the men as he tried to force his way free.

‘Where are the others?'

‘It took both the men to subdue him. They must have slipped out,' Rob said with embarrassment.

Nottingham said nothing for a moment, surveying the scene.

‘Take him to the jail. I'll bring her.' He turned to Lister. ‘Get the men searching all the roads out of Leeds. I want them taken. After that I want you to talk to the whores upstairs. They'll know more.'

T
he Constable saw them into the cells, Mark Wade ranting and cursing, his sister quiet and subdued. He left the ropes on their wrists, leaving them to feel the oppression of their surroundings.

Christ, how could Mrs Wade and Sarah have escaped? He'd been stupid, he hadn't anticipated that the women would try to run. Now he needed to find them quickly.

What would he do in their place? Where would they go? Out of Leeds, he thought, as far and as fast as possible. Even with nothing, being alive was better than what would face them. They were all guilty. If he hadn't been certain of that before, he was now.

Nottingham could feel every muscle in his body aching with the strain. Soon he'd begin asking questions of both prisoners, seeing what answers he could find. Anne would be the one to talk. She was scared, feeling alone and abandoned.

He poured a mug of ale, forcing himself to sip at it slowly, hoping for some report from the men. But by the time he'd finished no one had come. The Constable brought Anne from the cell and seated her on the chair across from him. All the colour had drained from her face and tears had left tracks on her cheeks. She didn't look up to face him, but kept her head bowed.

‘You were in Whitby, weren't you?' he asked, and saw her nod slightly. ‘And you knew a merchant named Marlowe.' She dipped her head once more. ‘You killed him and robbed him.'

‘I didn't kill him,' she said, her voice so small it almost wasn't there.

‘Then who did?' he pressed.

‘Mama.'

‘Your mother?' he asked in astonishment.

‘Yes.'

For a moment he didn't believe her. But her gaze was straight and honest. He wiped a hand across his mouth. ‘How did she kill him?'

‘She put poison in his drink.'

Poison, he thought, a woman's weapon. Then he thought of the girl they'd found buried and the faintest whiff of something when he'd opened her mouth.

‘Has she killed in Leeds?'

‘Two of the whores.'

‘Two?' he asked, his voice sharp.

‘One of them tried to leave.'

‘Is that the one your brother buried?'

‘Yes.' She whispered the word. Now he knew who'd been responsible for that death.

‘What about the other one?'

‘He put her in the river so it would look like she'd drowned.'

Jenny Carter. It hadn't been suicide after all. He closed his eyes for a moment then said, ‘Who has your brother murdered? Peach well enough and it could save your neck.' He poured her a cup of ale. She held it awkwardly, hands shaking.

‘I … I don't know.'

‘Are you certain, Miss Wade?'

‘I'm sorry.' He'd seen the fear in her eyes and the way her hands began to shake when he'd mentioned Mark Wade. She was terrified of him.

‘Where would your mother and Sarah go?' He kept his voice gentle, trying to calm her. ‘They're leaving you to hang. That's not showing you love, is it?'

She shook her head. He was willing to believe that she truly didn't know.

Rob hurriedly searched the brothel, taking the money from the strongbox and a ledger from the desk; that way no one else could steal them. Then he unlocked the four whores from their rooms, each of them frightened and bewildered. He sat them in the parlour and waited until their eager voices dropped to silence.

He doubted that any of them were older than Emily. It didn't take long to hear their stories, each one much the same. In return for Mrs Wade providing board, lodging and good new clothes worth five pounds – a handsome sum – they'd agreed to work for her until their debt was paid. They'd all made their marks on a contract. But as soon as they wondered what they owed, asked for an accounting and talked of leaving, the woman had threatened them with the law and debtor's prison. They hadn't been allowed out of the house, not even into the yard. Slaves, he thought, that's all they were.

Jenny Carter had been there, the girls told him, but only for a few days. Just after the place opened she'd disappeared. Mrs Wade claimed she'd been allowed to leave because she didn't like the life. It let them hope that she might let them go, too. Then Violet, another girl, had vanished. She'd been unhappy and had talked of escaping. One morning they'd awoken to find she'd gone, and no one was willing to answer their questions.

Every one of them had lived in fear of Mark Wade. He used them when and how he wanted, never caring if he hurt or bruised, taking pleasure in their fear.

One girl rolled up the sleeve of her shift to show the bruises. She was the youngest of them all, her arms and legs like sticks and her face like a child's, but eyes far older than her years.

‘He did that, mister. Enjoyed it, too.'

‘He's in jail now. He can't hurt you again.'

‘What's going to happen to us?' Frances, the one who seemed to look after the others, asked.

‘You're free to go,' Rob told her.

‘Go where?' she asked, her eyes hard and opaque. ‘You think we'd be here if we had somewhere else?'

He took out the money he'd hidden in his coat and divided it between them. God knew they'd earned it.

‘That'll give you a start.'

‘What about the clothes?' Frances wondered suspiciously.

‘Take them. Take whatever you want.'

He left them to start their new lives. The folk round here would soon strip the place of whatever the girls didn't carry off. For now he needed to find Mrs Wade and Sarah.

‘No one's seen them on any of the roads leaving town,' Nottingham said. Rob had told him what he'd learned. There'd been nothing in the papers or ledger to show any new destination.

‘They're still in Leeds, then. They'll probably try to leave once it's dark.' Rob glanced out of the window. From the brightness it was still only midday. ‘I put a man on each of the roads. When it's dark, though, there are so many ways they could escape.'

‘We'd better find them before evening, then.' Nottingham said, pacing around the room. ‘Rouse the night men. I want everyone out. Put them in twos and give each pair an area to search.'

‘Yes, boss.'

‘Once you've done that, you and I can take the stretch along the river.'

The Constable stood in front of Mark Wade's cell, watching him through the bars. The man knew he was there, but paid no attention, sitting quietly with a smirk on his face.

‘I'm going to hang you for murder,' Nottingham announced. Very slowly, the man turned his head.

‘Are you now?' Wade asked calmly.

‘And for helping in another.'

‘You'd better have your evidence, then.'

‘Don't you worry about that.' He smiled.

Anne came out meekly. As they passed the other cell her brother called out, ‘You'd better not tell him anything. You know what'll happen if you do.' She tried to stop but the Constable urged her on. ‘You know what I can do,' Wade shouted.

She was shivering as she sat in the chair.

‘He can't hurt you,' Nottingham assured her. ‘I'll move you to the prison under the Moot Hall until I can send you to Whitby. You'll be safe there.' He took the document he'd prepared. ‘Can you read and write?' She nodded. ‘This is what you told me earlier. If it's all correct, sign it for me.'

‘Will it save me?' she asked softly.

‘I can't promise that,' he said honestly. ‘But there's a better chance with it. I'll send a letter saying you've helped. It'll be up to the magistrate; it could make a difference.'

She looked at the page, dipped the quill in the inkwell and signed. Anne Briggs, he noticed, not Wade.

R
ob heard the Parish Church bell ring eight. They'd been covering the ground since noon and now evening was creeping around, the shadows lengthening, the fierceness gone from the sun as it started to slip away. Emily would have waited a while for him at the school then made her way home. She'd understand; she'd grown up with all this.

There'd been no sign of Mrs Wade or Sarah. He'd gone to the camp and talked to Bessie, and to folk in the warehouses along the Aire. Nothing. But there were so many places to keep out of sight. During the night they could slip away unnoticed through the fields, never to be seen again in Leeds. He'd done all he could: put men on the roads, told everyone he could to watch for the women.

The Constable had said little over the last few hours, locked away in his thoughts. He'd issued a few orders, vanished at times to check on the others only to reappear frowning more than before.

Finally, once it was too dark to see more than a few yards, Nottingham said, ‘That's enough out here. We'll go and try around the yards.'

‘Yes, boss.'

‘Find yourself some food and something to drink first. Come to the jail when you're done.'

Nottingham sat at his desk, the mug of ale in front of him. He was hungry but he couldn't eat. John had given him a gift from the grave and he'd been too stupid to use it properly. He simply hadn't believed the women would run. He'd imagined Mrs Wade would give herself up to justice once he had her daughter. Now he had to make it right.

He heard Mark Wade stirring and walked through to the cell.

‘Can I have some ale and something to eat?' the man asked. He looked calmer, all the fire gone from his voice.