Chris Nickson - Constant Lovers

‘We’ll just have to keep digging, boss.’ He yawned again, covering his mouth with his hand.

‘I’ll go up to Roundhay tomorrow and talk to the servant’s parents.’

‘I’ll go if you want, boss. I’ve met them.’

The Constable shook his head. ‘No, it’s only right they hear it from me. You go home.’

‘I will.’ The deputy stood. ‘One thing I should tell you.’

‘I hope it’s good news,’ Nottingham said wearily.

‘It is.’ He smiled proudly. ‘Our Lizzie’s going to have a baby. I’m going to be a father again.’

The Constable laughed. ‘John, that’s wonderful.’ He stood and extended his hand. ‘How is she?’

‘As good as ever. She didn’t want me to tell anyone, but. .’ He shrugged helplessly.

‘I know,’ Nottingham said, ‘I felt the same, wanting to tell everyone. Still, at least it explains the gormless smile you’ve had for a few days. Make sure she looks after herself.’

‘I will, boss.’

Sedgwick made a circuit of the city, checking on all the night men before he went home. By the time he finally reached the room it was full dark, the stars generous in the sky. Enough of the moonlight came through gaps in the shutters that he could see his way. After undressing he knelt, stroking James’s hair as the boy slept on, unaware. A brother or sister soon enough, he thought, then crossed his fingers. Too much could go wrong. God forbid he’d lose Lizzie or the baby.

She was asleep when he climbed into the bed, her body warm enough that he had to roll away from her to stay cool. If anything the heat had increased since night had fallen and he pushed the threadbare sheet down to let the air at his body.

Once the baby arrived he’d want more time at home, a chance to be with Lizzie, to see the little ones grow. He’d need to have Lister trained by then, assuming the lad stayed — he hoped that he would. Rob was learning quickly, applying himself and doing whatever they asked.

He reached over to lightly touch Lizzie’s back where it curved out to her hips. Her skin was soft, and she stirred slightly as his fingertips rested on her.

‘John,’ she mumbled finally, ‘don’t.’

With a quiet smile he fell into sleep.

The three of them were sitting in the jail at six. The air had grown heavier, and simply walking into town Nottingham had felt the sweat rolling down his back, leaving his linen shirt sticking to his skin.

‘Did you find anything else, Rob?’

‘Nothing, boss.’

‘No matter. We know a little more than we did. Did Mr Sedgwick tell you what happened last night?’

‘Yes.’ Rob blanched. ‘He did.’

‘I’m going up to Roundhay this morning to try and find out if the body is Anne Taylor,’ Nottingham confided. ‘You two work on these missing thieves, we need to find them quickly. I don’t even know what else we can do on the Godlove murder at the moment.’

By the time he reached Roundhay village he was soaked from the heat and the horse was lathered with perspiration, eager to drink at the stone trough by the road. He let it have its fill then tied it and made his way to the first cottage. The door was open, and the smell of pottage cooking on the fire made him hungry.

He knocked and waited until the woman came bustling through. She halted when she saw him and he noticed the expression in her eyes change to one of bright fear.

‘You’ve come about Anne, haven’t you?’ she asked.

‘I’m sorry, I have. I’m Richard Nottingham, the Constable of Leeds. Is your husband here, too?’

‘He’s over in t’ fields.’

‘Is there someone you can send to fetch him?’ he asked soberly. He wanted both of them, to give comfort to each other if nothing more.

‘Wait,’ she ordered and walked to the cottage across the road. After a few words she returned. ‘He’ll be here soon.’ Awkwardly, hesitantly, she said, ‘You’d better come in and have a stoup of ale. It’s not at its best, I was going to brew some more today.’

They were words just to fill the space, he knew that, to ward off the ghosts that drifted in the silence, but the drink was welcome as they sat in the shade of the room. Finally a short, stocky man arrived, rubbing at his hands with a dirty kerchief. His arms were well muscled from years of labour in the fields.

‘What is it, love? They said you needed me quick.’

She glanced at Nottingham. ‘This man here’s come out from Leeds about Annie. He’s the Constable.’

‘Oh aye?’ Taylor turned and Nottingham could see the anguish in his eyes, the prayer for good news that wasn’t going to come.

He stood up. ‘I’m sorry to have to ask,’ he said quietly, ‘but does Anne have a birthmark?’

‘She does,’ her mother said firmly, fingers reaching out to grip her husband’s hand.

‘Where?’

‘About here,’ she answered, pointing at her hip.

‘What does it look like?’

For a moment the woman seemed confused. ‘Not like anything, really. Just darker, I suppose.’

‘I’m very sorry.’

Taylor gathered his wife close, never taking his eyes off the Constable. She was huddled against him, her arms tight around his back, releasing the tears that had been building since the deputy’s visit. The man’s face remained stony.

‘Where did you find her?’ he asked.

‘In some woods, just outside the city.’

‘How long had she been there?’

‘A while,’ Nottingham admitted.

The man gave a short nod.

‘I’ll arrange to have her brought out here so you can bury her properly,’ the Constable offered. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Thank you.’

The man kept his wife tight against him. Nottingham stood. He had nothing more to say that they’d want to hear. Quietly he made his farewell and left them. Outside the heat wrapped around him like a blanket as he climbed back on the horse.

Should he go and see Gibton while he was out here?

‘Thank you for coming out yourself.’ Taylor was standing there, a man who moved silently, for all his bulk. ‘And for not saying she’d been killed.’

‘It was the least I could do.’ He looked at Taylor. ‘I lost a daughter myself earlier this year.’

‘The wife really believed she was still alive.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated.

‘Never a word of concern from them, of course.’ He inclined his head towards the distance, but there was no need; the Constable knew exactly who he meant.

‘To be fair, they’ve lost a daughter of their own,’ Nottingham said.

‘Aye, I know that.’ He coughed and spat on the ground. ‘And I went round to say how sorry we were when I heard. Him there didn’t even say he was grateful, never mind that our Annie had been Sarah’s maid for years.’

‘Grief can do that.’ He was surprised to hear himself defending the Gibtons.

‘Mebbe,’ Taylor conceded with a frown. ‘But then her comes out and starts shrieking at me, saying it must have been our lass who led Sarah astray.’

‘Led her astray?’

‘Aye.’ He stared up at Nottingham and shook his head in bitter exasperation. ‘Exactly what she said. Made no sense but she’s always been a shrew. Mad, some folk reckon.’

‘What about this money they got last year?’ He could see that the man needed to talk, to do anything to take his mind off his loss.

Taylor spat again. ‘No secret that the man paid for the lass’s hand. Annie told me that herself. Didn’t tell her mother much, mind, but we’d talk sometimes when she visited.’

‘And what about Sarah, how did she feel?’

‘Not too happy, from what Annie said. Seems she had a young man before, and she didn’t want to give him up.’

‘What did her parents say?’