The room smelt of ink, a deep, exotic scent that seemed to permeate the walls and the floor. Bundles of paper were stacked in a corner, ready for the next edition, and stained wooden boxes of type lined the wall. The Constable had been here before, and the mechanics of making a newspaper always amazed him.
‘I’m hoping you might have some information.’
Lister raised his bushy eyebrows and smiled slyly. ‘And here I thought you were the one who knew everything, Constable. Sit down.’ He gestured at the extra seat beside the desk.
‘You heard about the body found at Kirkstall Abbey on Saturday?’ Nottingham began.
‘Of course.’
‘And you know who she was?’
‘Not yet. Do you know?’ Lister asked eagerly, reaching for his quill.
‘Her name was Sarah Godlove. Her maiden name was Gibton.’
Lister sat back and let out a long breath. ‘I remember when they married last year. I wrote something about it, I’m sure. I couldn’t have ignored that.’
‘What do you know about Godlove and Baron Gibton?’
The man rubbed his chin. ‘Where do you want me to start? Godlove’s a rich man. His family owned a little land for generations. They did quite well as farmers, but it was his father who really made the difference.’
‘What do you mean?’ the Constable asked him.
Lister smiled widely. ‘He started buying up small farms that weren’t doing well. Judicious purchases, too. He must have been a clever man. By the time anyone realized what he was doing, he must have owned most of the area between Horsforth and Bradford.’
‘What about the present Mr Godlove?’
‘He’s not the man his father was; at least, that’s what everyone says,’ Lister reported gleefully. ‘He runs everything smoothly enough, but there’s no fire about him. His ambition, or so I was told,’ he confided, ‘is to be part of the gentry. He wanted to be rich and respectable.’
‘And the marriage brought him that?’
‘In name, at least.’ He held up a warning finger, relishing the chance to gossip. ‘The Gibtons aren’t exactly the front rank of nobility.’
‘He’s a baron.’
‘Ah, but a baron is very low on the scale, Mr Nottingham,’ Lister said dismissively. ‘Even a viscount is higher, and they’re almost three a penny. But the Gibtons committed a cardinal sin in the eyes of the gentry — they lost most of their money.’
‘The great-grandfather lost it. At least, that’s what Gibton told me.’
Lister raised his eyebrows. ‘Very candid of him. It’s true enough, though. From what I’ve heard, the man should never have been let out anywhere at all. He’d wager on anything and everything and usually lose. Of course, he was drunk most of the time, which probably accounts for it. I suppose the family’s cursed him ever since. There they were, couldn’t even afford to live with the best society and all because of him. There was a little money, of course, they were hardly on the parish, but it wasn’t the luxury they’d once enjoyed.’
‘And now they seem to have money again.’
‘I was getting to that. Patience, Constable, please,’ he teased. He held out his hands, palms up, and raised the right one. ‘So here we have a man with plenty of money who truly wants to be part of the aristocracy. He’s not going to manage that himself, so he needs to marry into it. The only trouble is that, apart from his wealth, there’s not much about him. You’ve met him?’
‘Yes,’ Nottingham said.
‘He’s not a man who leaves a lasting impression, is he? Let’s be kind and leave it at that.’ Lister winked playfully and raised the other palm. ‘On the other hand there’s a family with a title that’s desperate — and I do mean desperate — for money. They have one real asset, which is a pretty daughter of marriageable age, and they’ve been preparing her since she was a baby. If they’d had more girls they’d probably have been rubbing their hands in glee. The only thing missing is a dowry. That means no one with a title is ever going to come near her, and they know it.’
Slowly he brought his hands together. ‘A perfect match, at least for Godlove and the baron.’
‘So he paid for her?’
‘Yes, he did. A bride price, if you like, although no one’s going to call it that, of course. It’s far too crude a term, but it’s what it amounts to. Young Sarah was sold off like good stock — good breeding stock. Godlove is suddenly part of the nobility, even if it’s just by association, and the Gibtons have real money for the first time in God knows how long.’
‘What about Sarah?’
‘She certainly wouldn’t want for anything with Godlove, of course. An easy life, although a dull one, I’m sure, stuck out in Horsforth with the sheep for your best friends. Not that anyone would have consulted her, of course.’ He shrugged. ‘You know how these things work. She’s just an asset, a piece of property to be traded.’
‘Her parents have done well out of it.’
‘My understanding is that it was all Lady Gibton’s work. She drove a bargain that would impress a horse trader. Did you meet her?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Count yourself lucky.’ He shivered theatrically. ‘Awful doesn’t even begin to describe her. Just make sure you’re never around when she loses her temper. I saw it happen once at an assembly. Everyone was getting as far away from her as possible. The serving girls were in tears. It was very ugly.’ He paused. ‘Is any of this useful?’
‘Everything’s useful at the moment,’ the Constable answered with a small smile. ‘It’s all far outside my circle. And outside the city. I’m impressed you know so much.’
Lister bowed his head. ‘You never know when something will come in useful,’ he explained. ‘It must be the same for you.’
‘More or less,’ Nottingham agreed. ‘Still, if you ever want a change of employment, I can use someone who gathers this much information.’
The man patted his paunch contentedly. ‘Not for me. I like the quiet life. All I have to worry about is people threatening legal actions against me.’ He cocked his head. ‘Are you really looking for someone?’
‘I am.’ This murder had shown him how tightly they were stretched.
‘I should send my oldest boy down to see you, then.’
‘You don’t want him here?’
‘I’d love to have him here,’ Lister complained. ‘He could take it all over in time. But it doesn’t interest him.’
‘What does?’
‘I don’t know,’ he admitted sadly. ‘I’m not sure he does, come to that.’
‘Working for me means long hours. The pay is poor, too.’
Lister chuckled. ‘The money’s poor for everything in Leeds, unless you’re in cloth.’ His face turned serious. ‘He’s a good lad, Mr Nottingham. Reads and writes well, a good thinker, does what he’s told — unless it’s me telling him, of course,’ he added ruefully.
‘How old is he?’
‘Almost eighteen. He was an apprentice last year, but only lasted three months.’ He frowned. ‘That was good money poured away for nothing. Then I tried him here and he didn’t care for it. His mother doesn’t know what to do with him and neither do I.’
‘Send him to see me if he’s interested,’ the Constable said. He couldn’t be any worse than some of the people who’d come hoping for the job.
‘And just imagine,’ Lister added, eyes twinkling, ‘he’d have access to all his father’s gossip.’
Nottingham laughed and stood up. ‘Tell him to come to the jail.’
‘I’ll be printing something about Sarah Godlove’s killing. Murder most cruel.’
The Constable turned and stared. ‘Murder’s never anything else, Mr Lister.’
Seven
Sedgwick never felt comfortable away from the city. Born and raised in Leeds, the quiet of the countryside was eerie to him. It took an hour of steady striding out to reach Roundhay village, a collection of ten cottages where the road made a turn. At least the Taylors wouldn’t be hard to find.