She began to calm down. She remembered that her shirt was torn and her breasts were bare. “If I were an angel, I wouldn’t be in your arms,” she said, and she made to detach herself from his embrace.
He looked into her eyes for a moment, then gave that wry smile again and nodded, as if agreeing with her. He turned away.
He bent and took the sack from the older thief’s limp hand. He took out her waistcoat and she put it on, buttoning it hastily to cover her nakedness. As soon as she felt safe again she began to worry about Jay. “I have to look for my husband,” she said as Mack helped her put her coat on. “Will you help me?”
“Of course.” He handed her the wig and hat, purse and watch and handkerchief.
“What about your red-haired friend?” she asked.
“Cora. I made sure she was safe before I came after you.”
“Did you?” Lizzie felt unreasonably irritated. “Are you and Cora lovers?” she said rudely.
Mack smiled. “Yes,” he said. “Since the day before yesterday.”
“My wedding day.”
“I’m having a wonderful time. Are you?”
A sharp retort came to her lips then, despite herself, she laughed. “Thank you for rescuing me,” she said, and she leaned forward and kissed him briefly on the lips.
“I’d do it all over again for a kiss like that.”
She grinned at him then turned toward the street.
Jay stood there watching.
She felt terribly guilty. Had he seen her kiss McAsh? She guessed he had, by the thunderous look on his face. “Oh, Jay!” she said. “Thank heaven you’re all right!”
“What happened here?” he said.
“Those two men robbed me.”
“I knew we shouldn’t have come.” He took her by the arm to lead her out of the alley.
“McAsh knocked them down and rescued me,” she said.
“That’s no reason to kiss him,” said her husband.
19
JAY’S REGIMENT WAS ON DUTY IN PALACE YARD ON the day of John Wilkes’s trial.
The liberal hero had been convicted of criminal libel years ago and had fled to Paris. On his return, earlier that year, he was accused of being an outlaw. But while the legal action against him dragged on he won the Middlesex by-election handsomely. However, he had not yet taken his seat in Parliament, and the government hoped to prevent him doing so by having him convicted in court.
Jay steadied his horse and looked nervously over the crowd of several hundred Wilkes supporters milling around outside Westminster Hall, where the trial was taking place. Many of them wore pinned to their hats the blue cockade that identified them as Wilkesites. Tories such as Jay’s father wanted Mikes silenced, but everyone was worried about what his supporters would do.
If violence broke out, Jay’s regiment was supposed to keep order. There was a small detachment of guards—too damn small, in Jay’s opinion: just forty men and a few officers under Colonel Cranbrough, Jay’s commanding officer. They formed a thin red-and-white line between the court building and the mob.
Cranbrough took orders from the Westminster magistrates, represented by Sir John Fielding. Fielding was blind, but that did not seem to hinder him in his work. He was a famous reforming justice, although Jay thought him too soft. He had been known to say that crime was caused by poverty. That was like saying adultery was caused by marriage.
The young officers were always hoping to see action, and Jay said he felt the same, but he was also scared. He had never actually used his sword or gun in a real fight.
It was a long day, and the captains took turns to break off from patrolling and drink a glass of wine. Toward the end of the afternoon, while Jay was giving his horse an apple, he was approached by Sidney Lennox.
His heart sank. Lennox wanted his money. No doubt he had intended to ask for it when he called at Grosvenor Square but had postponed the request because of the wedding.
Jay did not have the money. But he was terrified that Lennox would go to his father.
He put on a show of bravado. “What are you doing here, Lennox? I didn’t know you were a Wilkesite.”
“John Wilkes can go to the devil,” Lennox replied. “I’ve come about the hundred and fifty pounds you lost at Lord Archer’s faro game.”
Jay blanched at the reminder of the amount. His father gave him thirty pounds a month, but it was never enough, and he did not know when he could lay his hands on a hundred and fifty. The thought that his father might find out he had lost more money gambling made his legs feel weak. He would do anything to avoid that. “I may have to ask you to wait a little longer,” he said with a feeble attempt at an air of superior indifference.
Lennox did not reply directly. “I believe you know a man called Mack McAsh.”
“Unfortunately I do.”
“He’s started his own coal heaving gang, with the help of Caspar Gordonson. The two of them are causing a lot of trouble.”
“It doesn’t surprise me. He was a damned nuisance in my father’s coal mine.”
“The problem is not just McAsh,” Lennox went on. “His two cronies, Dermot Riley and Charlie Smith, have gangs of their own now, and there’ll be more by the end of the week.”
“That will cost you undertakers a fortune.”
“It will ruin the trade unless it’s stopped.”
“All the same, it’s not my problem.”
“But you could help me with it.”
“I doubt it.” Jay did not want to get involved with Lennox’s business.
“It would be worth money to me.”
“How much?” Jay said warily.
“A hundred and fifty pounds.”
Jay’s heart leaped. The prospect of wiping out his debt was a godsend.
But Lennox would not readily give away so much. He must want a heavyweight favor. “What would I have to do?” Jay said suspiciously.
“I want the ship owners to refuse to hire McAsh’s gangs. Now, some of the coal shippers are undertakers themselves, so they will cooperate. But most are independent. The biggest owner in London is your father. If he gave a lead, the others would follow.”
“But why should he? He doesn’t care about undertakers and coal heavers.”
“He’s alderman of Wapping, and the undertakers have a lot of votes. He ought to defend our interests. Besides, the coal heavers are a troublesome crowd, and we keep them under control.”
Jay frowned. It was a tall order. He had no influence at all with his father. Few people did: Sir George could not be influenced into coming in out of the rain. But Jay had to try.
A roar from the crowd signaled that Wilkes was coming out Jay mounted his horse hastily. “I’ll see what I can do,” he called to Lennox as he trotted away.
Jay found Chip Marlborough and said: “What’s happening?”
“Wilkes has been refused bail and committed to the King’s Bench Prison.”
The colonel was mustering his officers. He said to Jay: “Pass the word—no one is to fire unless Sir John gives the order. Tell your men.”
Jay suppressed an anxious protest. How were soldiers to control the mob if their hands were tied? But he rode around and relayed the instruction.
A carriage emerged from the gateway. The crowd gave a bloodcurdling roar, and Jay felt a stab of fear. The soldiers made a path for the carriage by beating the mob with their muskets. Wilkes’s supporters ran across Westminster Bridge, and Jay realized that the carriage would have to cross the river into Surrey to get to the prison. He spurred his horse toward the bridge, but Colonel Cranbrough waved him down. “Don’t cross the bridge,” he commanded. “Our orders are to keep the peace here, outside the court.”
Jay reined in. Surrey was a separate district, and the Surrey magistrates had not asked for army support. This was ridiculous. He watched, helpless, as the carriage crossed the river Thames. Before it reached the Surrey side the crowd stopped it and detached the horses.