still a long way to go.’
‘I know,’ he agreed, standing up gingerly to take her in his arms. The truth was that he was eager to tell everyone, to let them all share his joy. Lizzie was right though, he knew that. He sounded out the months in his head. She was barely two months gone, and there was too much that could happen before the baby arrived.
The door crashed wide and James bustled in, running straight for his father and grasping him firmly round the legs. He’d become a solid little lad with a strong grip and a ready smile. At four he kept growing out of the clothes the deputy scrounged for him, and the knees of his breeches were always ripped from playing; Lizzie seemed to spend most evenings working with a needle and thread.
‘And what have you been doing?’
‘Me and Mark and Andrew went down to the bridge and we threw sticks.’ The words came out in a breathless, eager stream, almost tumbling over each other. ‘And we ran over to watch them come out the other side.’
‘Did you? Who won?’
‘Mark, because he had the best sticks, he said.’
‘Maybe you’ll win next time.’ Sedgwick’s face turned serious. ‘You watch yourself on the bridge, though. I’ve told you before. The carts and horses always go too fast there.’ He waited until the boy gave him a grin then tousled his thick hair. ‘Now go on, your mam’s got something for you to eat.’
And she’d become the lad’s mother, he thought as he watched Lizzie cut bread and cheese and pour a cracked cup of small beer for James. More of one than Annie, his wife, had ever been. She wiped away his tears, cleaned his grazes and cuts, and loved him fiercely.
He felt lucky she’d come along, and he still wasn’t completely sure what she saw in him. At first, once she’d moved in, he’d been scared, fearful of how fragile things could be, that she’d just up and leave. After the first three months he began to understand that she was here to stay, that they’d made a family of sorts, one where there was love and joy. Now he couldn’t think of coming home to not find her here, welcoming, funny, warm. And the idea of being a father again, of her giving birth to his child, sent a surge of pleasure through him.
‘What are you smiling at, John?’ she asked.
‘I’m just happy.’
She looked at him tenderly. ‘I am too, love.’
Nottingham arrived at the jail early. He threw out the pair of grumbling drunks who’d been brought in the night before, then went to summon a baker to the Petty Sessions for selling adulterated bread.
A few faint, high clouds trailed across the towering sky as he ambled back down Kirkgate from the bakery on Lands Lane. It was going to be another hot day. He ran a finger under his collar to loosen it from his skin, the flesh already damp against his fingers.
Sedgwick was standing by the desk, his face locked in thought, a small, secret smile on his lips.
‘What did you make of Mr Godlove?’
The deputy turned as the Constable spoke. ‘Morning, boss. I thought you said he was a farmer?’
Nottingham settled in his chair and took off his stock. ‘That’s what he told me.’
‘He’s a bit more than that. Owns most of Horsforth, most like. Big, grand house, more servants than you can count. I don’t think he’s one of those out in the fields at first light breaking his back.’ He paused, considering what he’d just said, then added, ‘Still, give him his due. He doesn’t have any side to him.’
‘Did he have much to say?’
The deputy rubbed a hand down his face. ‘Not a lot that was useful. He wanted us to open the coffin so he could have a last look at her. Took me a while to persuade him that it wasn’t a good idea. She’s going to be buried properly tomorrow. The local curate came while I was there and couldn’t do enough to help him.’
‘What about his marriage?’
Sedgwick blew out a long breath. ‘I really think he loved her.’ He paused to frame his answer. ‘He was genuinely devastated, boss. Couldn’t sit still, kept pacing around the room while I talked to him.’
‘Did you talk to any of the servants?’
‘Aye, while he was with the curate. According to them, his wife had been shy at first. About the only person she’d really talk to was the maid she’d brought with her. They thought she felt she was too good for them since she had a title. Most of them had come around a little but they still weren’t too sure of her. She didn’t talk a lot, evidently. A couple of odd things, though.’
‘Oh?’
‘She and her maid would go off for the day once a week. Not always the same day, mind. The maid would never tell the other servants what they did. They’d leave after breakfast and come back late afternoon.’
‘That’s strange,’ Nottingham said. ‘No one has any idea at all?’
‘Rumours and thoughts, you know what it’s like. Nothing with any substance. The other thing is, though, the washerwoman there reckoned that Mrs Godlove might be carrying a baby.’
The Constable sat straight. ‘Go on,’ he said.
‘No breech clouts last month, she told me.’
‘And Godlove didn’t say anything about it?’
‘Not a word. I don’t think his wife had told him.’
Now that was interesting, the Constable thought. He was glad he’d sent Sedgwick; the man had a knack for charming out information.
‘So we have more questions, but we’re not any further along.’
‘Nothing to help us. What about the gentry?’
Nottingham recounted the visit to Lord Gibton, then added, ‘There’s something not right about it all.’
‘What do you mean, boss?’
‘When I arrived he knew it must be bad news, but he never pressed me for any details. What would you do if someone came and told you James was dead?’
‘I’d want to know everything,’ Sedgwick replied.
‘Exactly. All he did was turn quiet. Said he knew she must have been murdered or I wouldn’t have ridden out there, and that was it. About the only time he spoke much was explaining how the family had lost their money and why his daughter had needed a maid. It was as if he had to justif?y everything about his life, never mind that his daughter was in the ground. It was just. . cold. It’s not human.’
‘How much did you tell him?’
‘Not much at all. He never bothered to ask where she’d been found or how she’d died. I’ll tell you, John, I don’t know what to make of it. I’ve never seen anything like it. And something else — on my way I stopped in the village there, and the woman at the alehouse thought Godlove had paid them so he could marry Sarah.’
‘What?’ The deputy looked at him incredulously.
‘I know it sounds ridiculous, it should be the other way round — the girl brings a dowry. But after meeting Gibton I can almost believe it, especially since the baron took such pains to tell me he’d inherited the money.’
‘So what do you mean? They sold her to the highest bidder?’
‘I don’t know.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m sure the rich and titled have their own term for it. Godlove must have been what, thirty years older than her?’
‘Something like that, aye.’
‘She was a pretty girl. Why would she look twice at him, let alone marry him? There was nothing Sarah could bring to a marriage, the Gibtons didn’t have money.’
‘Except a title,’ Sedgwick offered.
‘Exactly. For some people having a wife with ‘The Honourable’ in front of her name could be worth paying for. And who knows what their children would be?’ He paused to consider that, then pursed his lips. ‘Something that bothers me is what’s happened to the maid? Gibton insisted she was devoted to Sarah.’
‘That’s what the servants said at Godlove’s, too. No one had a bad word to say about her, but no one seemed to really know her. She hadn’t gone out of her way to make friends.’
‘She’s from Roundhay, and the alewife didn’t say anyone had seen her, so she must still be missing. We’ve had no more reports of bodies.’
‘Do you think she’s involved?’
The Constable shook his head. ‘I doubt it.’
‘So what do we do now?’
