“Well, the midwife-what was her name? Goody Moss, I believe-she wanted me to stand close and observe all that she did. It was all
“Yes?” said I. “Go on.”
“Oh, of course. I was also near enough that I might look down upon her head, and I can assure you that there was no sign that she had been beaten in the way that she said.”
“No scabs? No scars?”
“Nothing of the kind. In truth, her hair had been washed, so that indeed I would have seen such, had there been anything to see.”
“Interesting, yes, very interesting indeed.”
“And another thing-though I hesitate even to mention it. I went with the midwife to the door, so that she might explain all that she had done and seen. And what she whispered to me was the most remarkable thing of all. She said that Elizabeth was pregnant. I don’t think I could ever have supposed such a thing of her.”
“She told us the same,” said Sir John. “And I-”
“Caution, sir,” said I. “They are on their way now.”
Mother and daughter approached the hackney, but only the daughter entered the door, which I held for them. Sir John inquired of the mother if she were not also coming. She declared that she was not.
“’Twould be worth my immortal soul to step inside such a place,” said she with a great shudder. “I think it a great shame that Elizabeth should have to return.” Then did she depart.
Then, only minutes later, the caravan pulled out of Dawson’s Alley. It was a rather strange array, which moved forth on the way to Clerkenwell. There were two coaches-our own hackney and another, which I understood Mr. Turbott rented more or less regularly from a nearby stable. In a trailing line were five or six on ponies and nags that had been rented or borrowed for the occasion.
As we traveled, Sir John took the opportunity to question Elizabeth further. There was not much left for her to tell. For, once she was locked in the garret, she stayed there, a prisoner, for over a week. She had naught but a pile of straw to sleep upon and a thin blanket to keep her warm. She was fed thin gruel and water once a day and visited by the one she now called Mother Jeffers. Elizabeth was asked by her again each day if she would join their company, and each day she refused. This continued so until the night before, when she at last managed to loose the window that overlooked the great pile of leaves in the yard. Then, waiting till all was silent within the house, she perched upon the window sill and leapt down into the leaves. With only the blanket to wrap round her and her shift beneath it, she started south and found her way home to her mother’s place in Dawson’s Alley.
“How many do you reckon were in the house?” Sir John asked.
“Well,” said she, “I saw four, but there were probably a couple more.”
“So, six in all? And how did they divide between men and women?”
“Probably four women and two men. Something like that.” She seemed curiously indifferent of a sudden.
“But you could only identify four?”
“If that.”
Sir John accepted that and put no more questions to her. And in no more than a few minutes’ time she was asleep in the corner of the seat. It seemed to me strange that she could sleep so peacefully as we bounced about so wildly. Clarissa evidently wished to resume our conversation regarding Elizabeth. Sir John must have sensed this, for when she began to address him, he shook his head in the negative and put a finger to his lips, thus calling for quiet. With that gesture, he communicated his suspicion that her sound sleep was feigned.
After near half an hour of backtracking and wending our way in a general northerly direction, we came to open country and picked up our pace. It was then but a short time on a swift road that we drew to a halt behind Mr. Turbott’s coach. I threw open the door and hopped down to the road at about the same moment Mr. Tarkington descended from his perch next to the driver. He opened the door like a proper footman and out came a whole squad of men. Those trailing on horses rode up. As all formed round him, Turbott raised his voice so loud that I wondered, could he not be heard inside the house just ahead.
“We know not what awaits us there”-pointing ahead as if aiming at a target-“so I must ask, how many of you have weapons with you?”
In response, a number of hands shot up-and in those hands were deadly weapons of every sort, pistols, knives, and fowling pieces. Turbott himself brandished a ceremonial sword of some sort.
“Good God, Jeremy,” said Sir John, “this is as bad as I feared. Help me down from here, and I shall accompany you. We cannot allow these men to attack this house on such flimsy evidence.”
I did as he asked, whilst Turbott divided his men into two groups-those with and those without weapons. He then gave his troop of irregulars a proper harangue. And, as he did this, Sir John began muttering something in my direction, which I could not quite understand. At first, I thought it a prayer; yet potentially calamitous as was the situation, it did not seem to me that prayer was called for. But then did the magistrate explain.
“You are now deputized as a constable,” said he to me. “Arrest whomever I tell you to arrest.”
Shouting back to the two girls in the hackney to stay where they were until they were summoned, he felt about for my arm. When at last he found it, he instructed me to take him forward.
“Where to?” said I.
“Into the fray,” said he rather dramatically.
Indeed, the battle had begun, so to speak, for Mr. Turbott was leading his men forward, waving his sword most ferociously. The rank of armed men moved forward behind him; and behind them, not quite so bold, came the unarmed group.
We marched through this latter group on our way across the road. They seemed more than willing to clear a way for us. We were just approaching the forward rank when I happened to notice one of the upstairs windows move. And, being unlatched, the window was then pushed open; it hit the wall of the house with a big BANG! Whereupon Turbott and all those with him threw themselves flat upon the ground, hoping to make smaller targets of themselves, for they supposed that they were being shot at. The woman responsible for that great noise stuck her head out the open window and, seeing a number of armed men in the front yard, let out a lusty scream.
Sir John did not miss a step. We picked our way through the prone figures as Turbott began shouting slogans and battle cries at his men as he urged them onto their feet that they might storm the door.
“Come along, Jeremy,” said Sir John, “right up to the door, if you please.”
“As you will, Sir John.”
When we reached it, he instructed me to give a good, loud knock upon it, which I did in a most commanding manner. Almost immediately, the door came open a crack-no more than two or three inches. Then, from inside, a female voice, fearful and in a mere whisper:
“Who are you?”
“Madame, I am Sir John Fielding of the Bow Street Court, and I have a need to question you and others in the house on a criminal matter.”
“But who are those men with guns out there in the yard?”
“Though it be difficult, I urge you to pay them no attention. They will cause no trouble so long as I am here. But doubtless you would find it easier to answer my questions without them looking on? May we discuss these matters inside?”
After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Well, all right.”
Then did the door open sufficient to allow us to pass inside, single file.
The woman with whom Sir John had spoken closed the door after us. I knew that she must be the one called Mother Jeffers, for Elizabeth had remarked upon her ugliness, and, truth to tell, I had never seen a woman uglier than this one before us. She had a large, misshapen nose with a wart upon its end. Her upper jaw overhung her lower in such a way that she seemed to have no chin at all. But she had a very sweet voice, the sort that seemed to go not at all with her most unfortunate appearance.
“What matter does this concern?” she asked Sir John.
“ ’ Twould be easier, Madame, if I were to bring you together with the complainant that these matters be thrashed out between you. Would it be well with you if I were to bring her in?”
“I suppose so,” she said, “but I’ve water on for tea. Perhaps we could talk in the kitchen?”
“Of course. Jeremy, would you fetch Elizabeth and Clarissa from the coach? And if Mr. Turbott should insist upon coming along, you may tell him that he, and only he, may enter. He must leave his brigade outside-and that
