Antonia Hodgson - The Devil in the Marshalsea

Kitty arrived with a pot of coffee. Mrs Roberts acknowledged it with a slight nod then waved her away again.

‘I was very young when I married John,’ she began again, after a short pause. ‘My father was furious. He had promised me to a friend; it was all arranged. It would have been an advantageous match; there was land, property. A title, even. I was seventeen. His friend was close to sixty.’ A frown of distaste. ‘I ran away. My family disowned me, of course. I didn’t care. I was in love.’

She shut her eyes and laughed mockingly at the notion.

‘It is not a crime to fall in love,’ I said.

‘Not a crime, no.’ She frowned at me, as if I were a child, but then her expression softened. ‘No, you are right,’ she murmured, almost to herself. ‘After all that has happened – it is easy to forget that we were happy for a time.’

‘Did he…’ I cleared my throat. ‘Betray you?’

‘Oh, no doubt!’ she laughed bitterly, tossing back her head. ‘Isn’t that what men do?’ I began to protest but she stopped me, touching her fingers softly to my wrist. ‘Please, Mr Hawkins, I know what you would say but forgive me. I have learned to judge a man by his actions, not by his words.’

The touch of her hand sent a spark through me and I was seized with the desire to take it in mine, to press it softly to my lips. I wonder what would have happened if I had? Another slap, I shouldn’t wonder. She moved her hand away and the moment passed.

‘So. You fell out of love with your husband.’

‘No!’ She frowned, suddenly defiant. ‘We ran out of money. Some men have a knack for making it; John had a talent for losing it. By then I was with child. I wrote in secret to my mother. She sent me what she could; what would not be missed.’ She swallowed hard. ‘My father would have been very cruel to her, if he had found out.

‘I thought things might improve once the baby was born, that John would want to do his duty as a father. Matthew was so sweet; such a good boy. John doted on him, but… he was a reckless man. In truth he was all the things I had been warned about before I married him. And yet I loved him. Always. Even at the end, when I had every reason to hate him. We survived for a couple of years, while John was still in the army. Then his battalion was disbanded and we lost everything, very fast.’ She looked up, her clear grey eyes haunted by the memory. ‘You know how it is, Mr Hawkins.’

‘When did you come to the Marshalsea?’

‘In January. I had written to my mother begging for help but had heard nothing for weeks. And then at last I received a letter, a few days after we arrived here. It was from my father.’ She paused, this time for much longer, and stared off into the distance. When she continued her voice was flat and drained of feeling, as if she were telling someone else’s story and not her own. ‘My mother was dead from a fever. When she fell sick, her maid brought my letters to my father and confessed we had been in contact for several years. She was afraid for her position, I suppose; or perhaps she hoped for some reconciliation before it was too late. If so, she did not know my father at all.’ She gave a bitter smile. ‘He waited until my mother died and then he wrote to me with a proposition. I will never forget his words, Mr Hawkins, even though I burned the letter. You are ruined by your own hand. I have no pity for you or that damn’d scoundrel you call a husband . But I will not have you disgrace the family name by dying in gaol like some common slut. ’ She stopped, and covered her mouth with her hand. Those last words had brought her back to herself, back to the coffeehouse.

‘A wicked thing to say.’

‘Yes…’ She rallied herself. ‘He offered to grant us a small allowance. Just enough to keep us locked up here, safe on the Master’s Side. His offer came with one condition. I was his only child, you see. He had no heir. He would send us the money, but in return, we must give him Matthew.’

‘He took your son.’ I frowned, struck by the cruelty of it – to break the bond between a mother and son out of spite and vengeance. Or perhaps he thought he was being generous. I could imagine my own father offering something similar, and convincing himself it was all done out of charity.

She nodded, face drained of colour. ‘We refused at first. But what choice did we have? We would have starved to death, all three of us. I couldn’t let that happen. John and I argued about it for days. So I told him to visit the Common Side to see how they lived. How they died. ’ She shivered. ‘And then he agreed. But it broke him, Mr Hawkins. And he blamed me, for changing his mind. Things were never well between us again. Everything was ruined. Lost.’ She covered her face with her hands, just for a moment. ‘My father sent his land manager down to collect Matthew. As if he were livestock, not a boy of three. I have not seen him since. My boy. My son.’ She touched the closed locket, resting on the table between us.

‘But… forgive me. Are you not wealthy, now? Could you not go to him?’

‘My father refuses all contact.’ A single tear slid slowly down her cheek. ‘He is Matthew’s legal guardian now; I cannot even write to him. Oh! It was all planned so cleverly . Do you not wonder how I came by my fortune? It was an inheritance bestowed upon me by an aunt on my mother’s side. She died last December; a few short weeks before we came to the Marshalsea. If we had known of the money, we would have been spared all of this. John would be alive. I would never have let my son go.’ She clenched her jaw. ‘My father bribed my aunt’s executor. He only came forward with the will after John’s death. And now my son is being raised by that… oh !’ she shuddered.

‘Can nothing be done? If you put this to the courts, surely there would be great sympathy for your story?’

She sighed wearily. ‘My lawyer believes I have a case. But I know my father. He is powerful and ruthless and he always gets his way. He would do anything to keep me from my son. He is still punishing me, you see, for running away. After all these years… He would use the shame of John’s death.’ A wince of pain and grief. ‘His lawyers would say I drove my husband to it. That I am not fit to take care of Matthew. The disgraced widow of a man who took his own life.’

‘That’s why you’ve stayed here,’ I said, understanding at last. ‘Not for your husband. For your son.’

‘Yes.’ She gazed out of the window. The court had ended for the day, the last of the carriages rumbling out through the Lodge, the turnkeys opening up the wards at last. ‘Lord knows I loathe every brick of this foul place, but the truth is buried somewhere here. John was not perfect, but he did not hang himself. He was murdered by someone in this prison.’ She narrowed her eyes at all the debtors rushing out into the yard. ‘And I will prove it.’

Outside, everyone was making the most of their late release, stretching their legs and catching up on the news. Trim and Mack took up a game of rackets against the wall next to Acton’s lodgings, Mack all arms and legs and cursing as Trim won. A reminder that I should always bet on Trim, given the opportunity. I nodded to them both then stuck my hands in my waistcoat pockets and strolled over to the Tap Room, thinking about Mrs Roberts. Catherine. I was glad we were on good terms again.

If I could only discover the truth about Roberts’ death! Not only would I fulfil Sir Philip’s task, but surely I would earn Catherine’s respect and gratitude. And love…? The thought crept stealthily into my mind. Love and freedom – a tantalising prospect. Mr Woodburn believed I had been thrown in gaol for a reason. ( Aye , a snide voice sounded in my head. For owing twenty pounds .) But what if he were right? What if this were my fate – to find the murderer and begin my life afresh, with Catherine at my side?