It was a pleasant evening and some of the smog had cleared, affording them an arresting view of the city.
‘Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live in another town or in the country perhaps, but then I come out here on an evening like this, the sun just about to set and everything looking so peaceful, and I can’t imagine living anywhere else.’
Pyke paused for a moment, to take in the view. ‘There,’ he said, pointing towards the giant dome of St Paul’s. ‘Just to the right, you can see the Sessions House and, next to it, Newgate prison.’
They had walked almost to the top of the hill. Tilling turned to face him, hands in pockets. ‘I take your point.’
‘Do you?’ This time Pyke allowed himself to show his anger. ‘Can you imagine what it was like, being locked up in that God-forsaken place, knowing I was to be executed for something I hadn’t done?’
Tilling started to walk again. ‘You might not believe me, but Peel liked you. He wanted to help you, Pyke, but given what happened at your trial, the manner in which you ran your own defence and the fact the jury found you guilty, there was nothing at all he could have done.’
‘I think Peel had done quite enough already.’
That seemed to confuse Tilling.
Pyke laughed bitterly. ‘Once you realised I had found out about Magennis, you moved quickly.’
This time Tilling touched him on the arm. ‘You think that business with your mistress was our doing?’
‘That business? Let’s call it by its proper name, Tilling. Murdering Lizzie in cold blood and then making it look like I had killed her.’
Tilling stared at him, incredulous. ‘My God, you actually think Peel and I planned all that?’ He sounded upset.
‘Well, it couldn’t have been Edmonton. I mean, he didn’t want me locked up or executed. It didn’t suit his plans. Think about it. He wanted me out there, stirring up trouble and making the connection between Magennis and you public. You see, the moment I was arrested his plan failed. The whole conspiracy was finished. In the end, nothing about the link between Peel and Magennis was ever made public. And Peel, the administration, all of you, emerged unscathed.’
That seemed to placate Tilling. ‘So all along, you’ve been working from the premise that Peel arranged to have your mistress killed and then you framed for the murder.’ He still sounded shocked.
‘Maybe I still am. For a start, there was the timing. I happened to mention Davy Magennis to you and two days later Lizzie is murdered and I’m in prison. What am I meant to think?’ Tilling stood there, with a puzzled look on his face. ‘Then there’s the business with Brownlow Vines,’ Pyke added.
‘What business with Vines?’ Tilling’s confusion seemed to be genuine. ‘What’s he got to do with this?’
Pyke told him what had happened on the night of Lizzie’s murder.
Tilling stared at him, aghast. ‘None of this came out in the trial.’
‘What was the point? I assumed the verdict had already been determined before the trial had even started.’
‘And you believed that Vines was dispatched by Peel in order to drug you?’
‘It made sense at the time.’ Pyke stared out across the city. It was almost dark. ‘There’s no doubt in my mind Vines administered the drug. I just assumed he had cut a deal with Peel. A top job in the new police force or something like that.’
Tilling seemed to find such a notion amusing.
‘I’m glad you find my predicament funny.’ But Pyke felt confused more than anything.
Since his return from Ireland, he had known that his initial suspicions regarding Peel’s involvement in the St Giles murders were unfounded. Nonetheless, he had still been convinced of Peel’s complicity in Lizzie’s murder. It was not that he believed Peel to be a heartless monster. Rather, he had assumed Peel had taken the decision to kill Lizzie and frame him for pragmatic reasons. Now, though, Tilling’s forceful denial had deflated that theory, and Pyke had to face up to the unappealing truth that he had no idea who had butchered Lizzie.
In the gloom, Tilling’s expression darkened. ‘I was only laughing because, as I said earlier, I find the idea Peel might have involved himself in such a base plot to be, quite frankly, ridiculous. I have worked with him for twenty years. He might be self-interested, arrogant and aloof but he is not a cold-blooded murderer.’
‘I’m almost persuaded by your testimony.’
‘Almost?’
‘You didn’t see the note Peel sent me while in prison.’
‘Ah, the note.’ Tilling smiled. ‘We can say cruelty is used well when it is employed once and for all, and one’s safety depends on it and then it is not persisted in but as far as possible turned to the good of one’s subjects.’
Pyke remembered the volumes in Tilling’s library. ‘Peel gave me the impression he was the admirer of Machiavelli.’
‘He has read The Prince. But Peel is a politician, not a philosopher or an intellectual. What do you expect?’
Tilling shrugged. ‘I’d wager you and I are the amoral pragmatists.’
Suddenly Pyke felt foolish for having suspected the Home Secretary.
‘However much he might have wanted to, Peel was not in a position to grant you a pardon,’ Tilling said, matter-of-factly. ‘That was all the note was supposed to indicate.’
‘And Vines?’ Pyke said, hollowly. He had been so sure of Peel’s hand in Lizzie’s murder and his own imprisonment that he had not even contemplated an alternative scenario. Now, he had no idea how he would avenge her death.
Tilling shrugged. ‘We did approach Vines and consulted him about the police bill in order to determine where his loyalties lay.’
‘And?’
‘As far as we could tell, they remained squarely aligned with Sir Richard.’
Pyke nodded, trying to digest this information. ‘I’ll need a private audience with him.’
‘Who, Vines?’ Tilling asked.
‘No, Peel.’
‘Out of the question,’ Tilling said, shaking his head.
‘Away from Whitehall. Somewhere like your house, for example.’
‘Perhaps if you had come to us with all this before the trial, he might have been able to grant you a pardon. I presume that’s what you want? But not after everything you have done, everything that has happened.’
Pyke had expected such a response and was not put off by it. ‘Tell Peel that it will be in his own interest to make the appointment. Point out I’m not a man to be underestimated.’
‘Oh, believe me, Peel is well aware of that fact.’
‘So you’ll arrange a meeting? Tomorrow evening. At your house.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Tilling waited for a moment. ‘But I can tell you one thing. Peel won’t tolerate any more of this carry-on with Edmonton. The situation’s spiralling out of control. He’s going to dispatch the Seventh Dragoons to the area to quell any further unrest.’
‘Edmonton has made his own bed,’ Pyke said, coldly.
‘That may be, but Peel will want a line drawn under everything.’
Pyke thought about this for a moment. There was still so much he didn’t know or couldn’t work out. ‘And Edmonton?’
‘What about Edmonton?’
‘What am I supposed to do with him?’
‘That’s your business, Pyke, not mine.’
Tilling touched his arm and told Pyke he would try to arrange the meeting for the following day. As he turned to leave, he paused and said, almost as an afterthought, ‘Do what you need to do but do it quickly.’
Pyke stood there and watched Tilling stroll down the hill, and did not move until he was a faint speck in the distance.
