Antonia Hodgson - The Devil in the Marshalsea

I shivered, then groaned as my bruised ribs protested. ‘Close the damned window and light a fire, for God’s sake.’

Fleet gave a low chuckle. ‘I don’t remember that in Ephesians. But you’re the student of divinity, Mr Hawkins. Best to stay cold. Keeps you moving. Keeps you thinking. Alert.’ He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. ‘We have much to do today.’

We?

There was a light rap at the door.

‘Come in, Kitty, come in! We are unlocked,’ Fleet called and before I could make myself decent she had done just that, bucket and brush in hand, a couple of books tucked under one arm. She gave a little scream at the sight of me – half-naked and only half-awake – and covered her face with a dictionary of thieves’ cant.

I cursed and swung my legs back under the cover.

Fleet laughed to himself as I pulled my breeches on under the sheets. ‘And so we continue your education, Kitty,’ he declared, sweeping his arm in my direction. ‘Behold: Noble Man in his natural state.’ He tilted his head. ‘More like a wild boar than a man, hmm? Snores like a pig, too – I can vouch for that. How much did you see? Perhaps a drawing lesson is in order…’

Kitty threw her bucket and brush to the floor and stormed over to the cold hearth, averting her gaze from my side of the room. She took a tinderbox from her apron pocket and began striking the flint very hard against the steel.

Fleet gave a wicked grin. ‘Excellently done, Hawkins. I’ll wager you’ve warned Miss Sparks off men and marriage for two years at least. A good thing too, Kitty. I have greater plans for you than a life of drudgery surrounded by squalling brats.’

‘Drudgery?’ Kitty was on her hands and knees building the fire. She held up her palms, covered in greasy dark ash. ‘Perhaps I have my own plans.’

I slid from the bed, every muscle screaming in protest, and stood at the window, stretching as best I could. The yard was empty save for Jenings the nightwatchman finishing his shift, narrow shoulders hunched against the cold. The wind must have whipped through his old, thin bones last night. Joseph Cross appeared in the Lodge gate, swigging from a tankard. From this distance he looked small enough to squash beneath my thumb and fingers – a satisfying thought. He shouted something coarse at Jenings while grabbing at his cock, his baying laughter echoing off the walls of the gaol.

I watched for a moment longer but no one else came out into the yard though I could see from the sun that it must be past eight o’clock. I turned back from the window. ‘Are we not free to leave our rooms?’

Fleet was leaning against the wall by the hearth, watching Kitty as she worked. He behaved quite differently in her company, his expression lighter, indulgent even. Kitty had called him her guardian and he did seem protective of her, in his own fashion. But if she were indeed his ward, why keep her working here in the Marshalsea? Fleet was clearly not in prison for debt – he could afford to send her somewhere safe.

‘What news from the night?’ he asked her.

She paused in her work, leaning back on her heels. ‘Three pulled dead from the sick ward. And Jack…’ She turned back to the fire.

Jack Carter. Woodburn had said the boy would not last the night, but still the shock of it ran through me. He had been murdered in front of my eyes. The whole prison had stood and watched… and done nothing. ‘How does his brother fare, Kitty?’ I asked.

She blew softly on the kindling, the flames flickering and dancing along the wood. ‘He stayed by Jack’s side in the Strong Room all night. It shook him. Very bad.’ She glanced up at me for the first time. ‘But he is grateful to you.’

Fleet looked startled. ‘Benjamin Carter… grateful to you ? What on earth for?’

‘There’s no mystery,’ I replied. ‘I gave the boy half a shilling to watch over his brother in the Strong Room last night.’

‘But…’ He stared at me across the jumble of the room, brows furrowed. ‘What on earth did you hope to gain from it?’

‘It was for charity, sir. To give them both some comfort before the end.’

Fleet scrunched up his face, as if he had just bitten hard into an unripe lemon. ‘Half a shilling? For charity ?’ he yelped. ‘What the devil were you thinking, flinging your coins about in such a foolish manner? Fuck the stars and all the heavens… If I’d wanted a condescending idiot for a roommate I would have asked Mr Jenings.’

‘Well. Forgive me if I’ve caused offence, sir,’ I muttered.

Fleet grunted, irritable, as if he might consider it.

Kitty clapped the coal dust from her hands and rose from the fireplace. ‘Ben saw the ghost last night.’

‘What’s this?’ Fleet rounded on her at once. ‘When? Where?’

‘The stroke of midnight.’

‘The stroke of midnight . Impeccable timing.’

‘It walked right past the Strong Room, Ben said. Knocking on the walls and crying out for vengeance.’ She rapped her knuckles on the wall, knock… knock… knock. ‘Don’t laugh ,’ she said, glaring at Fleet. ‘Poor Ben half-died of fright.’

‘Indeed? Which half?’

Kitty ignored him. ‘He ran out into the Common yard and there it stood, all pale and terrible in the moonlight, with a noose hung about its neck. It cried out, “Murder! Oh, dreadful murder! Avenge me!”’ (She acted this part very well, with her hands outstretched.) ‘And then it vanished in front of his eyes.’

‘ In front of his eyes , Kitty?’

‘He called the alarm and Mr Jenings searched the whole Common yard. He found a handkerchief dropped by the wall, embroidered with the initials J.R. It was wet with blood.’

Fleet snorted, then began pacing the room in a restless way, kicking aside books and clothes in his path. ‘Captain John Roberts, returned from the grave.’ He stuck his hands in his banyan pockets. ‘I should like a word or two with him.’

I frowned. ‘You don’t believe this nonsense, surely?’

‘It isn’t nonsense,’ Kitty said, wounded.

‘Belief is not the issue,’ Fleet said. ‘Facts – we must have facts.’ He clapped his hands together sharply, as if summoning them to him. ‘Where’s Benjamin now, Kitty?’

‘Next door in the chapel. Mr Woodburn is saying prayers for Jack’s soul.’

Fleet curled his lip. ‘Damned meddlesome fool. We must bring the boy here at once, before the memory fades.’

I thought of Acton, his bloody fist wrapped about the gaol. ‘Before he’s silenced.’

‘Aye, indeed,’ Fleet grunted. ‘Kitty. Run and fetch him for me. Tell him I’ll pay if he comes to me right away.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘I believe half a shilling is the current extortionate rate.’

With Kitty gone I summoned the courage to defy Fleet and closed the window, shutting out the icy chill at last. I soon realised my mistake. Fleet’s gentle, indulgent side had left the room along with Kitty. I swear I could feel his anger burning my skin even before I turned to face him.

‘Open it,’ he said, in a low, dark voice.

For one foolish moment I considered challenging him – just to see what he would do. I was twenty years younger and almost a head taller. Then I caught his expression and I thought, he’ll murder you, Tom. That’s what he’ll do.

I opened the window.

Fleet grinned.

I picked up the black coat Charles had sent me and stalked to the door with as much dignity as I could muster. ‘Well. I will not sit here and freeze to death. I shall take a turn in the Park.’

‘You’re half-frozen so you’ll take a turn outside? Hardly rational, sir.’ He shook his head like a disappointed tutor. ‘You can’t go out; it’s Friday. Sit yourself by the fire, smoke a pipe and I’ll call for breakfast. And stop sulking . Can’t abide it.’