Andrew Pepper - The Last Days of Newgate

‘I certainly didn’t mean to imply-’

‘Ssshhh, for a moment.’ She pressed her finger to her lips. ‘I’d say. .’ She paused. ‘I’d say you’re not an easy man to get to know.’

Pyke pondered her statement. ‘I’m not sure anyone can truly know anyone else, if that’s what you mean.’

This drew a forced laugh. ‘Spoken like a man.’ But Emily was not finished with him. ‘In your world, I would imagine people have to prove themselves to you, in order to earn your trust.’

‘If I told you I’ve never wholly trusted anyone, would you think me a kind of machine?’

‘Perhaps not a machine but. .’ Concern was etched on her face. ‘It must be a lonely existence.’

‘It is an existence. Or at least I am still. . here.’

‘I think you’re missing the point,’ she chided him, gently.

‘It is I who am asking for a little of your trust.’ She seemed puzzled. ‘I would hope I’ve already proved myself to some extent.’

Suddenly Pyke felt foolish and self-interested. ‘You must think me unpardonably rude,’ he told her, not sure what else to say.

‘I wouldn’t imagine a man of your abilities cares to be in someone else’s debt.’

Pyke shrugged. ‘It would depend upon whose debt I was in.’

‘In which case, I should confess that my motivations for visiting your cell were not entirely selfless.’ Emily was smiling now.

‘Oh?’

‘Of course, I had to be assured you were innocent of those terrible things the police and the court claimed you had done.’

He bowed his head, to acknowledge her confidence, but said nothing.

Emily laughed nervously. ‘It’s a terrible habit. I’m sorry. I must stop prying.’

Pyke wondered whether his discomfort at having to discuss personal matters was as obvious as Emily made it seem.

An awkward silence followed. ‘Did you know that most people believe an unmarried woman in her early thirties has failed to reach her potential?’ Emily seemed to be saying it as a challenge.

‘What potential might that be?’

‘To sire my future husband’s children, I suppose.’ It seemed to amuse her.

‘And to provide your father with an heir.’

‘You, too, are very perceptive.’ The humour left her expression. ‘My father has lined up a suitor and told me I’m to marry him before the year’s out. He said it’s high time, as you put it, that I provided him with an heir.’

‘Have you met this man?’ Pyke asked quickly.

‘I am led to believe he has certain political ambitions but I have refused even to learn his name.’ She seemed genuinely aggrieved. ‘I think it’s absurd that a woman in my position should even consider getting married, given the hopelessly inequitable laws of this country. You know that a married woman cannot own property, or retain control of her own earnings? She has the legal status of a minor and can’t divorce her husband, even if he beats her and even though he can divorce her for no good reason.’ She grew more serious. ‘Most of the men I meet are either rich and stupid or poor and desperate and see me as their ticket to a life of wealth and glamour.’

Pyke pulled her into his stare. ‘I am certainly not rich and I would hope I’m not stupid.’

‘I would not characterise you as poor or desperate, either.’

‘Where does that leave me, then?’

‘I don’t know.’ She laughed gently. ‘Somewhere in the middle.’

‘Is that a good place to be?’

‘I would say so.’

Pyke edged closer to her. ‘Here might be an even better place to be.’ He wanted to touch her cheekbones, run his finger down to her lips. .

‘Perhaps, but. .’ Emily stood up and turned to face him. ‘But it is late and I am aware that in my keenness to solicit your company, I must have kept you from other engagements.’

‘None as pressing as this one, I can assure you.’ Pyke noticed she was blushing ever so slightly. ‘But I am certain I have detained you far too long.’

‘It is surely I who have detained you. .’

‘Then I have thoroughly enjoyed being detained.’ He stood up and prepared to leave. ‘Perhaps you might detain me again on some future occasion?’

This time her gaze was cool. ‘You make me sound like a Newgate gaoler.’

He laughed heartily. ‘You have seen such figures in person, as I have, and should be in little doubt that their poise, sophistication and elegance are something mere mortals such as ourselves cannot hope to aspire to.’

Emily flashed him a wicked stare. ‘What? You don’t think I’d like to lock you up and throw away the key?’

‘In the condemned block at Newgate?’

Her eyes glistened in the candlelight. ‘Actually, I was thinking of more comfortable surroundings.’

‘What a perfectly delightful place this is,’ Godfrey said, pushing open the door to Pyke’s garret in the Old Cock tavern. ‘First, I had the good fortune to interrupt a young couple rutting in the alley outside and then, when I had to relieve myself, I discovered what appeared to be a pool of blood on the floor.’ Godfrey had put on some weight in prison and waddled around the small bed to greet him.

Clasping Pyke’s shoulders, he looked at him and said, ‘It’s wonderful to see you, dear boy. Veritably, I did not imagine I would get this opportunity. You look different. Leaner. And the hair, or the absence of hair. .’ He ran his hands across Pyke’s head. ‘Very becoming.’

‘And it’s good to see you, too.’ Pyke meant it. He was glad to see his uncle. ‘When did you get out?’

‘Last week, dear boy. It was unexpected, I have to say. Geoffrey Quince, the lawyer whose services you so miserably failed to retain, claims to be quite baffled as to why they decided to drop the charges against me.’ Godfrey ran his stubby hands through his mane of white hair and looked expectantly around the tiny room.

‘Did Quince tell you I had need of his services?’

‘You saw Quince?’ Godfrey stared through his bushy eyebrows.

Pyke produced a sheaf of papers from the table next to his bed. ‘I had him draw up a contract. I’ve signed the gin palace over to you.’

‘To me?’ Godfrey’s brow wrinkled with bewilderment. ‘What on earth will I do with it?’

‘Isn’t that akin to asking a lion what he intends to do with a bloodied carcass?’

‘I am no rapacious businessman.’

‘But you are a rapacious drinker.’

‘Ah, indeed.’ Godfrey’s expression lightened. ‘But why sign it over to me?’

‘Call it penance on my part. Or part-payment for time served.’ Pyke handed him the papers.

‘Very decent of you.’ Godfrey nodded. ‘It would seem churlish or ungrateful of me to mention another agreement we had. .’

‘It would.’

‘Quite.’ His expression became pensive. ‘Of course, you would not have heard.’

‘Heard what?’

‘After your escape from Newgate, a lynch mob set upon your gin palace. The staff did what they could to defend it but there were too many of them. The place was stoned and set on fire.’ Godfrey held up the contract and shrugged. ‘I’m sure the lease is still worth a great deal. .’

Pyke took his time digesting this news.

Downstairs in the gaming room, a ratting contest was taking place. All traces of human and bear matter had been removed from the pit and a sizeable crowd had amassed around the ring. Some carried stop-watches; others ale pots and slips of paper. The betting was furious. In the ring itself, a determined bull terrier had pulled a solitary sewer rat from a larger pile of rats and was biting into its wriggling body. Specks of blood peppered the dog’s snarling mouth. Pyke and Godfrey passed through the room unnoticed and settled in the parlour on the ground floor. Unlike Pyke’s gin palace, this was an older tavern without a counter. They were served at their table by a pot boy who brought their drinks from a bar room in the middle of the building.