Antonia Hodgson - The Devil in the Marshalsea

Fleet propped his hand upon his chin. ‘Tell me. Why do you suspect Gilbourne?’

I told him of Mrs Roberts’ confession about the trap door into the prison, and how her actor friend Mr Simmons had slipped in and out of the gaol thanks to Gilbourne’s key. Fleet listened carefully, fingers steepled, black eyes gleaming like polished jade. ‘So Gilbourne could have stolen into the yard without being seen, even by the turnkeys. And you’re certain he holds the only key?’

I nodded. ‘He must have had an accomplice, though – don’t you agree? Someone with a key to this ward, and to the Common Side. Someone strong enough to help him carry the body across the yard. My money’s on Cross.’

Fleet chuckled. ‘Of course it is – and wouldn’t you love to see him hang for it. But why would Cross kill Roberts? They barely knew each other.’

‘Money. It’s always about money; you said so yourself.’

‘Well, I can’t always be right about everything …’ He trailed away, unconvinced by his own argument.

‘Gilbert Hand told me to ask the ghost what happened to the money ,’ I persisted, but Fleet dismissed this irrelevance with a wave of his hand. ‘Harry Mitchell said-’

‘Harry Mitchell?’ Fleet interrupted sharply. ‘The recently murdered Harry Mitchell? You spoke with him? When?’

‘Yesterday morning on the Common Side.’

‘ Yesterday morning on the Common Side . Of course. How foolish of me. So what did Mitchell tell you? When I questioned him he told me he didn’t know nothing .’ A frown. ‘I paid him half a shilling for that astonishing revelation.’

‘Well, he told me for free that Captain Roberts was planning to blackmail Gilbourne.’

Fleet sighed, and put his head in his hands. He sat like that for a long while, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he were tired beyond all expression. I had never seen him so… defeated. It was the shock of it, I realised later. Fleet prided himself on expecting the worst of people but he had not prepared himself for this. ‘Roberts,’ he whispered at last. ‘You fool. You damned fool.’

‘Mitchell said he knew what Gilbourne had done. He offered to tell me if I could secure his freedom. He was too scared to tell me anything while he was still trapped in gaol. He was afraid Gilbourne would have him killed. And now he’s dead.’

A door slammed on the next landing and footsteps thudded across the floor above, the boards groaning and creaking. Trim, returning to his room. Fleet peered up at the ceiling with a worried frown. ‘Mitchell was right to be cautious,’ he said. ‘We can’t risk talking in here.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ I said, gazing up at the ceiling. ‘Though I’m sure we can trust Trim.’ I pointed to a damp patch near the window, where the boards were split and sagging. ‘It’s a wonder he doesn’t fall through and break his neck, it’s so rotten there.’

Fleet put a finger to his lips. ‘It’s rotten everywhere,’ he muttered.

Fleet refused to say another word until we were safely out of Belle Isle. Even then he would not be drawn, except to acknowledge he had something pressing he wished to discuss, and that we must leave the gaol to do so.

‘Then we must find Jakes,’ I pointed out. Acton had agreed we could leave the prison to investigate but only under guard.

‘Jakes will be in church ,’ Fleet said, sniffing with disapproval. ‘Probably spends all day on his knees. And not in any useful fashion.’ He coughed back a laugh. ‘Why don’t we take Cross or Chapman?’

‘I don’t trust them.’ And I don’t trust you. The thought of Cross and Fleet working together was quite disturbing.

He frowned. ‘It will take too long.’

‘He only lives a few streets away.’

Fleet planted his feet and opened his mouth to argue… then caught the expression on my face. It must have been dark because even he looked taken aback. He held up his hands in defeat then went in search of one of Hand’s boys to send out a message. I sat down on an ale barrel by the door and closed my eyes. And there I was, back in the Strong Room in the dead of night…

‘Mr Hawkins.’ A soft whisper in my ear.

I opened one eye, and then the other. ‘Kitty.’

She was dressed in her good Sunday clothes – a powder-blue gown tied with ribbons and a fresh white kerchief about her shoulders. Her hair was half-loose, copper ringlets falling about her face, and her chest was heaving; she must have run all the way across the yard to catch me. She put a hand to her stomacher as she caught her breath.

‘How pretty you look,’ I said, without even thinking.

She blinked, taken aback. ‘You look rotten,’ she said, then touched her fingers to my temple, where the skull cap had bitten deep. Her eyes shone with tears. ‘There’s something you must know-’

‘ Catherine Sparks .’ Fleet had returned. He looked angry – dangerously so.

Most girls of eighteen would have squealed in fright, but not Kitty. She stood taller, put her hands on her hips. ‘I’ll speak with him if I wish,’ she said, tilting her chin in defiance. ‘You’re not my father.’

I waited for the caustic reply, but none came. His shoulders sank. ‘True enough.’

Kitty ran to him, dismayed, and threw her arms about his neck. He whispered something in her ear and she shook her head. ‘It’s not fair ,’ she pouted.

Fleet glanced at me and rolled his eyes. ‘We’ll discuss this later, Kitty.’

She stamped her foot. Fleet giggled and she punched him hard in the arm, then hugged him again before running back into the yard.

I watched her go, baffled by the whole performance. ‘That girl changes faster than the weather.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Now why might that be, Tom?’

I held my hands up in protest. ‘I’ve done nothing to encourage her.’

‘Handsome young men of twenty-five don’t have to do anything. Here.’ He handed me the dagger Cross had stolen from me the night before. ‘We’re free to leave once Jakes bothers to turn up.’

‘What do you have against Jakes? He’s a good man.’

‘Precisely.’

I slipped the blade in my belt. ‘I’m glad to have him with us. I can’t afford to lose another fight. It’s all very well for you , but I have my looks to consider.’

Fleet laughed and scratched his bristles. He was more grizzled than ever, if that were possible. Another bad night’s sleep, no doubt. Perhaps he’d felt guilty for betraying me. But if it were guilt that kept Samuel Fleet awake, then he must have done something truly devilish. I’d not caught him sleeping once since I’d arrived. ‘We mustn’t discuss things in front of Jakes.’

‘Why ever not? You don’t suspect him , do you?’

‘Of killing Roberts…?’ Fleet trailed away, contemplating the idea. His lips parted into a smile. ‘You know, he could have done it. He has access to the turnkeys’ room and all the keys. And he could have carried Roberts over to the Strong Room on one shoulder.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Excellent! Jakes it is.’

‘Well, here he is now.’ I nodded towards the Lodge. Jakes was barrelling down the corridor. ‘Would you like the honour of arresting him? Or perhaps he could arrest himself, as the warrant officer?’

I thought that might curb his tongue. I should have known better.

‘Good day to you, sir!’ he cried as Jakes reached us. ‘Tell me, did you murder Captain Roberts?’

Jakes stared at him, dumbfounded. ‘What did you say?’ he breathed, when he’d recovered his voice.

‘We were just debating the possibility. Tom thinks not, but then he is a very trusting fellow.’ He tapped my arm. ‘We must knock that out of you.’