Chris Nickson - Come the Fear

The Constable knew Fenton. As young boys, before Nottingham’s father had thrown his wife and son from the house, the pair of them had gone to school and played together. They’d been firm friends then. Afterwards the tale had become twisted.

Fenton had eased smoothly into his life, taking money and position in Leeds as his due, serving his apprenticeship as a merchant before going to work for his father, then taking over his business.

Nottingham’s path had been rockier. When they’d met again, after he’d become deputy Constable, Fenton had treated him with disdain, reminding him of his fall from grace and fortune at every chance. Working with him for a year was going to be difficult.

‘I’m sure he’ll relish it,’ he said.

‘Aye, he’s that kind of man,’ Douglas admitted with a long sigh. ‘Do what you must about this thief taker, as long as it’s above the law. Let’s see the back of him as soon as possible.’

Rain was falling as John Sedgwick walked down to the river, the clouds hanging so low he believed he could reach up and touch the sky. A little dampness was nothing, he’d dry out later, once evening arrived and he was home where the fire was warm in the hearth.

Before the bridge he turned, taking the new path that led past the buildings downstream. Cates and Sons had joined many of the other merchants in building a warehouse on the bank, the better to load their goods on to the barges. He felt certain he’d find at least one of the family there.

The brick was new, its red glow still warm, the paintwork glossy and the glass of the windows clean and clear. Inside, three clerks bent over their desks, heads rising together as he entered.

‘Can I help you, sir?’ one asked.

‘I’m looking for Mr Cates,’ the deputy said.

‘Yes, sir,’ the clerk said pleasantly. ‘Which one were you looking for?’

‘Which one’s here?’

‘Mr Robert, sir.’

‘Good,’ Sedgwick said with a grin. ‘Just who I want.’

The clerk slid from his stool and scuttled off into an office, his back slightly bent from too many years at his work. Within a minute he’d returned with Robert Cates, a tall, solemn young man with a long, quizzical face. His hair was receding, leaving him with a large, ugly dome of a forehead. His legs were scrawny; however good the tailor’s skill, no breeches would ever flatter him, and stockings hung baggy on his calves.

‘Can I help you?’ he asked, his tone distracted and condescending.

‘I’m John Sedgwick, the deputy Constable.’

‘Yes?’ He seemed astonished by the statement.

‘Can we talk in private, Mr Cates?’ He inclined his head towards the office.

‘I suppose so,’ the merchant agreed grudgingly.

The room was spare, the desk covered in papers, bills of lading, letters of credit and correspondence. Cates sat, leaving the deputy to take an old, worn stool. Pearl light fell through a tall, open window but the man still had a candle lit. A pair of spectacles sat next to a quill pen.

‘Now,’ he said briskly, ‘what do you want?’

‘You had a servant named Lucy in your house.’

‘We did,’ he acknowledged with a short nod, his mouth frowning with distaste. ‘My father dismissed her.’

‘She was pregnant,’ Sedgwick said.

‘So I was told.’

‘We found her body. Someone had killed her.’ He’d talked with the Constable earlier that morning and they’d decided to use the knowledge and see what it brought. He could see the shock jump into Cates’s eyes and the colour leave his face.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘The girl might have been a slut but no one deserves that. Do you have whoever did it?’

‘Not yet. We think whoever was the father of her child might be responsible.’

‘That makes sense,’ Cates said quietly. ‘It’s terrible that Lucy’s dead, but I don’t see why you need to talk to me. Whatever happened to her was after she left us.’

‘It was,’ the deputy agreed mildly. ‘But I’ve been thinking about time.’

‘Time?’ Cates asked.

‘Consider it,’ Sedgwick told him. ‘She became pregnant while she was in service with you.’ He waited, letting the merchant understand all the implications.

‘What are you saying? You think it could be one of us?’ he blustered. ‘Is that an accusation?’

‘It’s just a thought, sir. From what I hear, you, your brother and your father all take advantage of the servants.’

‘And who told you that?’ Cates asked, anger simmering in his voice and the veins bulging in his thin neck. ‘It’s a lie.’

‘Is it?’ Sedgwick said, watching him carefully. ‘The servant girls are there and available. They’re too scared to refuse any of you. Your brother’s already said he uses them.’

‘Has he?’ Cates said with a dry laugh. ‘I suppose he would, given half the chance. But I won’t have you slander my father that way.’

‘And what about you? How many of the servants have you tupped?’

Cates eyed him with venom. ‘I’d be very careful what you say. You’re nobody, we’re a family with influence in this city. You’d do well to remember that.’

‘I know that,’ the deputy told him with a bland look. ‘So it would seem bad if word spread that all the men in this family of influence were using the serving girls, wouldn’t it? Doesn’t matter how common it is, it wouldn’t seem good as general knowledge. Especially when one of them claims such Christian ways.’ He paused to allow the truth of his words to sink home. ‘Now, shall we start again, Mr Cates? How many of the servants have you tupped?’

Cates stayed silent and Sedgwick knew he’d have his admission soon.

‘A few,’ he admitted finally, his voice low, his eyes avoiding the deputy’s stare.

‘Was Lucy among them?’

‘No,’ Robert Cates answered quickly.

‘You’re sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure,’ the man hissed. His hand gripped the arm of the chair, knuckles white.

‘And why not Lucy, then?’ Sedgwick wondered. ‘Wasn’t she willing?’

‘I didn’t want her.’ Cates glared. ‘With that harelip, no one would have wanted her. It was like a devil’s mark on her. She couldn’t speak properly because of it.’

‘You mean you weren’t tempted to fuck the devil out of her, Mr Cates?’ the deputy asked.

‘No, and you mind what you say.’ He raised his head high. ‘I’d never be tempted by the likes of her.’

‘Seems like someone was.’

‘Well, it wasn’t me,’ he said, his voice hard. He leaned forward, planting his elbows on the desk. ‘Whoever had her must have been a fool or blind drunk.’

‘And what makes you say that?’ the deputy asked with interest.

‘Because she was as ugly as God’s own sin and she was stupid,’ Cates blurted. ‘You’d tell her to do something and she’d just stand there with that twisted smile.’

‘And did you often tell her to do things?’

‘Just to do with her work.’ He could see that Cates was sweating, the sheen thick on his forehead in spite of the window that drew in the cool breeze and noise from the Aire.

‘Someone killed her, Mr Cates,’ Sedgwick told her. ‘And her baby along with her. Why don’t you think about that?’

‘It wasn’t me,’ Cates said again. ‘I never touched the girl. I wouldn’t.’

‘But you’d touch others. And more.’

‘When the temptation’s too much.’ He lowered his head at the admission.

‘And was it with Lucy?’

Cates brought his hand down hard, the slap on the desk filling the room.

‘I told you, I never had her. I didn’t want her. It made me sick just to look at her. The girl was an abomination.’