‘She’s never been in any trouble, never done owt wrong.’ Catherine Taylor was rubbing her hands together as if they were cold. ‘She’s a good lass, mister.’
‘I’m sure she is. Look, there could be plenty of good reasons no one’s seen her,’ Sedgwick tried to reassure her. ‘Don’t go thinking the worst yet.’
She looked at him, snatching at the hope, brittle as life, in his words.
‘Does she have any friends in the village? Anyone apart from you and your husband she sees when she comes home?’
The matter-of-fact question seemed to give her strength.
‘Aye, there’s Maggie Blenkinsop. Well, Maggie Archer as was. She’s the same age as our Annie and they were allus together when they were lasses.’
‘Where does she live?’
‘Right across the road. She’ll be there because I know her babby’s been ill. Can’t do much when that happens.’
Sedgwick stood up, thanking her for the ale.
‘Try not to worry,’ he said, although he knew the words were pointless. He’d planted the thought and it would grow like a weed. ‘One last thing.’ He produced the knife that had murdered Sarah. ‘Have you ever seen this?’
‘No,’ she answered after staring hard at it. ‘Is that. .?’
‘Yes.’
He was at the door when she spoke again.
‘Tell me summat, mister.’
He halted and turned back, stooping so his head didn’t catch the lintel.
‘When you told them about Sarah, did his Lordship and his wife ask about our Annie?’
‘I wasn’t the one who told them. But from what I heard they didn’t even ask that much about their daughter.’
Outside, the sunlight seemed too bright and he blinked his eyes to adjust. All he’d managed to learn was that Anne hadn’t come back here, and the price of that knowledge was her parents in torment.
He crossed the road and knocked on the door of the small cottage. It looked uncared-for, unloved. There were vegetables in the garden but the weeds had taken proper hold, a few slates were missing from the roof, and the old limewash was heavily stained. From inside he could hear a baby howling and another young voice shouting loudly.
The woman looked harassed, old before her time. She had a baby in her arms and a girl of about three pulling at her ragged dress. There were dark half-moons like bruises under her eyes and her hand swatted half-heartedly at the girl.
‘You’re Maggie Blenkinsop?’ he asked.
‘Aye. Who’re you, then? And how do you know my name?’
‘I’m John Sedgwick,’ he introduced himself. ‘I’m the deputy Constable of Leeds. Mrs Taylor over the way told me who you were.’
‘Oh aye?’ She cocked her head slightly. ‘And what do you want with me?’ She shifted the child on her arm. ‘Stop it,’ she said to the girl who was pulling at the material once more. ‘I’ll not tell you again.’
‘It’s about Anne Taylor. Her mother says you’re friends.’
Her face relaxed into a smile. ‘Aye. She went for a maid and I stayed here and got meself wed. Sometimes I’m not sure which of us made the better bargain.’ She turned serious again. ‘So why’s the Constable of Leeds out here about her? What’s wrong?’
‘She’s missing,’ he explained, watching the surprise spread on her face.
‘Missing?’ She spoke the word as if it was new to her. ‘Annie?’
‘No one’s seen her since Thursday. She and her mistress left home then to come over here.’
‘But. .’ she began and then stopped, her face empty, not knowing what to say.
‘Her mistress was murdered.’
‘Sarah?’ Involuntarily, Maggie grasped the baby tighter and it began to cry. Tenderly, without even thinking, she rubbed the back of its head until the child settled.
‘We’re looking for Anne. We don’t know what’s happened to her.’
‘She hasn’t been here.’
‘I know.’ Sedgwick smiled kindly. ‘Do you know anywhere she might go if she was afraid?’
The woman thought and then shook her head. The little girl had wandered away inside the house. She hoisted the baby, stroking it softly and whispering at it.
‘If Annie was in trouble she’d come here,’ she said finally. ‘This is where her kin is, and her friends. We’d look after her.’
‘If she does come back, we need to talk to her. It’s important.’
‘Who killed Sarah? Do you know?’ she asked in wonder. ‘Why would anyone do that to her?’
‘We don’t know,’ he said. ‘That’s why we need Anne. We’re hoping she can help us.’
‘What did her mam say?’
‘I think she’s scared,’ Sedgwick confided. ‘She’s terrified Anne’s dead.’
‘I’ll get these two settled and go over.’ She paused. ‘What do you think?’ she asked, gazing directly at him and daring him to lie. ‘Honest now, is she dead?’
‘I really don’t know,’ he told her, ‘and that’s the truth. Did she ever tell you that Sarah used to go off one day a week?’
‘No. She doesn’t talk much about what she does. Never has. But I don’t think she likes it over there. When it was just her and Sarah, that was good. But all those other servants, she feels out of place, like they resent her.’
‘Has she told you that?’
‘Not in so many words. But little things, you know.’
‘What about her mistress? Was she happy there?’
‘I don’t think so, not really. I remember back at the start of spring, she came over for a few days up at that grand house they have now. I’d been out to find some wood for the fire. I could hear them having a real shouting match, her and her parents. They were telling her she had to go back and she was crying and screaming that she wouldn’t.’
‘But she went back in the end?’
‘Aye.’ She sighed and started to rock the baby gently, without thinking, letting the motion send it off into sleep. ‘I asked Anne about it the next time I saw her. She just said it was nowt.’ Maggie raised her head defiantly and stared at the deputy. ‘You’ve come here and brought trouble. Annie’s all they have left. There were three lads but they all died when they were little.’
‘I’m just trying to find some answers, love, that’s all.’
‘I know.’ She sighed. ‘It’s not your fault. I’d better go over to Catherine. She’ll be needing someone.’
He started to walk away.
‘If you find Annie, come and tell me, please. Whether it’s good or bad.’
‘I will. I promise.’
Eight
‘Right, let’s take stock of what we really know and the things we just think.’
The Constable had been next door to the White Swan and bought a fresh jug of ale. For once, Michael the landlord was happy. In this weather people were drinking more and his profits were up. In a rare, grand gesture he’d waved away payment. Now Nottingham and the deputy were seated in the jail in the shank of the afternoon, slaking their thirst and assessing the facts.
Sedgwick poured a mug.
‘We don’t know much at all.’
‘We know Sarah Godlove was murdered and that Anne Taylor has disappeared,’ Nottingham began. ‘We know
