‘Where were you?’ Lizzie stood, looking first at the baby and then opening her arms. Sedgwick let go of the boy and James ran to her. She shook her head, eyes closed, rocking back and forth as she held the lad. ‘Don’t,’ she said softly. ‘Don’t ever do that again. I was looking for you and you’d gone.’
‘I won’t,’ James promised, snuffling as he cried. ‘I’m sorry.’ Sedgwick carefully picked up the baby, so light and fragile in his large hands that it still scared him. He cradled her, rubbing a fingertip gently over her lips, taking in her warmth and marvelling that he could have a love so huge for something so small. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him, the yelling subsiding into a gentle hiccough.
‘Where was he?’ Lizzie asked. The boy kept hold of her skirts.
‘Down on Briggate.’ He looked at James. ‘He knows what’ll happen the next time.’
She breathed deeply and shook her head sadly and put her arms around the lad’s shoulders. She sagged with exhaustion; she looked like a woman close to the end of her tether. Her eyes were sunken, with dark patches shading under them, all the prettiness and life leeched from her face in a wearied expression that was beyond age. Between the baby and James there was no peace for her.
Sedgwick reached out and stroked her arm, moving down to rub the back of her hand tenderly. Then he kissed her and left. There was work he needed to do; the problems at home would need to wait until later.
Will Cates was waiting in a small private parlour at the Rose and Crown when Rob arrived. It was up a rickety flight of stairs and curtained to give some privacy. A jug of wine sat on the table. Lister sniffed it, looked questioningly at Cates, then poured himself a mug and sat down. Even dressed in his best coat and breeches he didn’t look rich, but he was presentable enough for good company.
‘Now,’ Will asked, ‘what’s all this mystery about?’
‘I told you, it’s nothing important.’
Cates laughed softly. ‘But important enough to meet in private?’
‘That was your idea.’
‘True enough,’ he acknowledged, taking a drink. ‘So what is it, Rob?’
‘Your father dismissed a serving girl a few weeks ago.’
‘Who? Lucy?’ Will said in aggrieved surprise. ‘You dragged me out to ask about Lucy?’
‘I did,’ Lister admitted without apology. ‘She’s missing. No one’s seen her since she left your house.’
Cates snorted. ‘She’s probably too stupid to find her way home.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Anyway, what business is it of the Constable? She’s hardly a child.’
Rob gave a heavy shrug. ‘I just do what I’m told.’
Cates drained his mug and reached over to pour more of the wine.
‘You know Lucy was pregnant? That’s why my father really let her go.’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t know who was more scandalized by it, my mother or my holy brother.’
‘Any idea who got her that way?’ Rob asked.
Will held up his hands. ‘It wasn’t me, that’s all I can tell you. She might have been too daft to say no, but with that harelip she wasn’t someone I’d have wanted in the first place.’
‘You’ve tupped other servants?’
‘Of course I have,’ Cates admitted without hesitation. ‘My first time was with a maid. What’s the point of having good-looking servants otherwise? Don’t tell me you never have?’
‘No.’
Cates raised his eyebrows. ‘Dear God,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘Another innocent. I think even my brother’s been at the serving girls, and I know for a fact my father has. But Lucy? You’ve got to draw a line somewhere. I doubt she’d have known what I was doing.’
‘I heard she wasn’t bright.’
‘She was simple,’ Cates observed flatly, pouring more wine. ‘I don’t even know why my father took her on. She couldn’t do anything without prodding, and even then it was only half done.’
‘So why didn’t he dismiss her sooner?’
‘No idea,’ he answered, ‘and far less interest. It’s not my business. If he’d give me a halfway decent allowance I wouldn’t even be living there.’
Lister sipped deeply and then pushed the mug away.
‘More?’
Rob shook his head. He rarely drank wine and didn’t want it going to his head.
‘What was she like?’
‘Lucy?’ Cates though for a moment. ‘Ugly as Saturday sin with that harelip. But it was always yes sir or no sir and a pretty little curtsey. At least she knew that. If she’d looked better I’d have had her, stupid or not.’
‘No one called for her?’
Cates laughed. ‘Christ’s blood, man, do I look like an authority on what the servants do? I don’t know. You’d have to ask them. As long as they do what they’re supposed to and keep out of my way I don’t give a bugger what they get up to.’
Rob stood. ‘Thank you,’ he said.
‘Is that it? Not going to stay and have something to eat? The landlord said they had a fresh pig this morning.’
‘I can’t. Work to do.’ It was a lie, he had no duty until this evening. But staying meant more drinking and he wanted to be sober to walk Emily home from school.
Cates shrugged. ‘It’s your choice,’ he said.
It was the shank of the afternoon when Richard Nottingham turned the corner from Kirkgate on to Briggate. The sun had finally broken through and the heat of the day clung close to the pavement. It seemed too early in the year to be this warm, he thought.
He opened the door of the house and walked in, his ears suddenly aware of the loud mechanics of the printing press, the rich smell of ink filling his nostrils. James Lister was working, turning the handle, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, his concentration deep on his task.
‘Mr Lister,’ Nottingham shouted. Only when the job was done did Lister raise his head.
‘Constable,’ he said with a smile. ‘It’s a bad time to call, I’m afraid.’ He gestured around the room, at the piles of paper and the finished copies of the new Leeds Mercury stacked under the front window.
He was a man who seemed to grow more rotund by the month, his long waistcoat barely containing his belly. Careless ink stains smudged his clothes, and there were black flecks on his white hose and across his florid face. But he had a ready grin and an ear for delicious gossip that served him well.
‘What can I do for you?’
‘Someone has an advertisement in your new issue,’ the Constable explained. ‘I’d like to see it.’
Lister looked at him shrewdly and picked up a finished copy, his thick fingers smudging the wet words.
‘Anything I should know about?’ he asked with interest.
‘The thief taker. I’m curious about his services.’
‘I remember him. A very curious man, don’t you think?’ He glanced at the Constable but didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Told me what he wanted to say and I wrote it down. I don’t think he has his letters. There was something not too pleasant about him.’ He handed over the newspaper. ‘That’ll be a penny ha’penny,’ he said.
Nottingham laughed and dug into his breeches pocket for the coins.
‘It’ll be the best money you spend this week,’ Lister promised with a smile, eyes twinkling.
‘Maybe. I’ll leave you to your business.’
‘Still a few hours of this. Just think, you’re the first in Leeds with all the news.’
He went to the White Swan, next to the jail. The potman brought his ale and the Constable turned the pages of the newspaper, eyes slipping over the print until he found what he wanted.
It was much as Walton had said. For part of the value of the items he’d reunite owners with belongings that had somehow disappeared. For a little more money he’d find the person who’d taken them and bring him to justice. It was an odd, dark trade, but he had to admit it was within the law. What troubled him was that it needed a familiarity with Leeds that the thief taker couldn’t possess; the man hadn’t been in the city long enough to know people or understand the subtleties of the place. Walton could be contacted in care of the Talbot Inn. Somehow that didn’t surprise him. It just meant they’d need to keep a closer eye on the man.