‘How long have you worked here?’
‘Me, sir?’ The girl looked astonished at the question. ‘About a year, I think.’
‘Do they keep you busy?’
Her eyes flicked around quickly, making sure no one was in earshot. ‘They do, sir. There aren’t enough of us to do all the work,’ she said quietly.
He nodded sympathetically. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
‘Alice, sir.’
‘Did you see Mrs Godlove when she was here?’
‘Yes, sir, course I did, lots of times. She came to visit regular, about every month, her and Anne.’ She hesitated. ‘Do you know what happened to Anne?’
‘That’s why I was out in the village. We found her body. I’m sorry.’
Alice looked down for a moment. When she raised her head again only willpower was keeping her features composed.
‘You know they were supposed to visit when she was murdered?’
‘I heard that. But I wasn’t here.’
‘Oh?’ It was Nottingham’s turn to appear surprised.
‘He give us all time off, me, the cook, the footman and the gardener. There’s only the four of us work here, sir. The place needs lots more but the master won’t pay to have more people. Three days, he give us. We all have family local, he said we could go and see them.’
‘So you never saw if Sarah and Anne arrived?’
‘No, sir, but she wasn’t expected, anyway. We all went on Thursday morning, and we come back Saturday night, like they told us.’
Now that, he thought, was very strange. He’d never heard of anyone giving all the servants time off together.
‘Every single one of you went?’ he asked, and she nodded. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘It was the mistress, sir.’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘She takes the black dog sometimes and gets right bad. The master said she didn’t want anyone but him around. He was even willing to pay us for the time, which isn’t like him, if you know what I mean. That’s how serious it was. But we hadn’t to say anything about it. He doesn’t want people to know how she gets. Then he said if we weren’t back on time not to bother returning. Same if we ever breathed a word of it.’
‘And did you all show up?’
‘Yes, sir.’ She gave a hard, frustrated smile. ‘No choice, really, there are no jobs ’less you go into Leeds and I don’t like it there.’
‘Has he ever done this before?’ Nottingham asked, still astonished.
‘No, sir.’ Alice blushed slightly. ‘But, God forgive me for saying so, they’re an odd pair.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘We all try to keep out of her Ladyship’s way. She has an evil temper on her. She comes out with language you don’t hear in an alehouse, sir, and she’ll even let fly at the master with her tongue.’ She stopped abruptly, realizing she might have said too much.
‘Don’t worry,’ the Constable assured her, ‘I won’t say a word.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘How was Lady Gibton when you got back?’
‘Still in her bed. But come Sunday she was up and off to church, right as you like. Please, sir,’ she begged, her eyes desperate, ‘promise you won’t say anything?’
‘I promise,’ he assured her. ‘I’ll come back and see Lord Gibton another time. Best we both forget I was here today, don’t you think?’
Alice smiled gratefully. ‘Yes, sir. Thank you.’
Sixteen
He decided to take the long road back to Leeds. For a short journey that had seemed so straightforward when he set out, he was returning with much to consider. The old Roman road petered out where it crossed the bigger Newcastle road and he turned, letting the horse take its time as he rode towards Chapel Allerton. There was a tavern there that he knew, a place he’d visited often when there were hangings up on Chapeltown Moor. They’d have water for the animal and something good to slake his own thirst.
So Sarah had had a lover before she was wed, and he was as certain as he needed to be that it had been Will Jackson. And it hadn’t ended after her marriage. He understood why she’d played things so close and her maid had said nothing. Secrets always spread like a wild fire once they were out; a word, a whisper was all it took.
What really puzzled him, though, was what he’d learnt at the Gibton house. However strange the man was, he’d never heard of behaviour like that before. From all the tales, he hoped he’d never meet her Ladyship, but things must have been bad if he’d sent the servants away for a few days. The timing, too, was especially interesting.
It was no surprise, perhaps, that Lord Gibton hadn’t mentioned it during their interview. More secrets to keep quiet. A family with plenty of those, it seemed.
At the inn he settled the horse at the trough and bought a mug of ale, deliciously cold, with just enough edge of bitterness to satisf?y him. Two farmers were talking quietly in another corner of the room, but otherwise he had the place to himself.
The more he thought, the more he wondered at the curious coincidence of Lady Gibton’s dark mood happening just when her daughter was due to visit. He didn’t care for coincidences. He mulled it over, slowly and deliberately examining the idea, until eventually he was willing to concede that coincidence was all this might be. Sarah’s visit to her parents was a surprise. Godlove had told him that right at the start. So they wouldn’t have known she was coming.
The more he discovered about the family, the more it disturbed him. There was an ugly strain of madness in them. But there was more than that. He knew the gentry had their own ways, but to blatantly sell their daughter the way they had, that was cold, calculating, and beyond his understanding. At times a life with no social position to worry about was much easier.
He gulped down the remainder of the ale, and left. Time to reflect had only brought more confusion. While he’d been inside, clouds had thickened in the west until they were bearing down dark and thick from the Pennines and promising another storm to clean out the day.
Riding back down to Leeds the city was spread out before him, the spires of the churches standing out, with the sharp, warm colour of Red House visible on the Head Row. He felt a languor spreading through him, and for all the world he could have sprawled out and slept for an hour under a tree.
But he wasn’t going to have the chance. It was still only late morning and there was plenty to do before he could rest. He returned the horse and walked back to the jail, his joints aching from the ride. He was getting older, no doubt of it. In his forties now, he was still fit and fair, but the pains and rheums came more easily and lingered longer. The hair that had once been so blond and handsome, his pride when he was younger, was paler now, with streaks of silver to mark the time. At least, he thought vainly, he hadn’t gone bald the way so many did. There were a few small mercies.
The jail was empty save for one man in a cell. The deputy had left a note; the man was a pickpocket he’d caught in the act. Sedgwick and Lister were trying to find the missing servants. If Worthy reached them first they’d face the task of hunting for evidence against the pimp; that, he knew, would be close to impossible. None would peach on him. The vulnerable would keep quiet out of fear, the rich to seek favour.
He tried to write a report, but after two lines he put down the quill; he simply couldn’t settle to it. It was the weather; it made his skin prickle and concentration was impossible. He pulled on the coat and left, ambling down Briggate and letting his feet take him where they would.
By the time he paid real attention he was already south of the river and walking out along Meadow Lane. In the last few years it had begun to turn into a grand avenue; a few merchants had built their homes over here, looking haughtily over the river, the courts and yards of the poor hidden away in the spaces behind the clean, proud
