Just before the hour rang the door opened and Lister walked in.
‘Good morning, boss,’ he said with an eager smile. He’d listened to Nottingham’s advice and dressed down. The suit had seen many better days, the elbows shiny, the knees of the breeches worn, his shoes weary, unpolished and down on the heel.
‘Very good, Rob,’ the Constable approved. ‘Ready for work?’
‘I am, boss.’ He said the title with pleasure.
‘Make yourself comfortable, look around.’ He offered the lad a mug of ale. ‘You’ll be spending enough time here, better know where things are.’
Sedgwick arrived five minutes later, his hair unkempt, yawning. Nottingham knew he’d already been busy, checking the night men and making the morning round.
‘Morning, John. Everything quiet?’
‘Mostly.’ A frown crossed his face. ‘One of the night men said a whore got cut last night.’
‘There’s nothing new in that, some customer thinks he deserves it for free.’
‘This wasn’t like that, boss. It was a pair of men who walked up to her. One grabbed her by the arm and the other used a blade on her cheek. Told her to leave Leeds.’
‘Who’s the girl?’ Nottingham asked.
‘She’s new, only been here a fortnight or so.’
‘Who’s running her?’
‘Someone called Hughes. He must be new too, I’ve never heard of him before.’
‘So someone’s warning him off through her.’
‘Aye, probably. Most likely Amos Worthy.’
Worthy was the city’s biggest procurer, a criminal who often supplied girls and loans to members of the Corporation and rich merchants; in return, they made certain he was never convicted of anything. It was a situation the Constable hated. But it had become more complex when he’d learned that his mother had once been Worthy’s lover, and that he’d looked after them during some of the bleak days when Nottingham’s father had thrown them out. More recently, too, he’d helped find a killer who’d murdered one of the few men in Leeds the pimp respected. He was strange, with a code of honour that defied any easy definition.
The Constable thought for a minute. ‘How many girls does Hughes have?’
‘Four, that’s what the lass said. Do you want to do anything about it?’
‘I don’t like it but let’s wait and see what happens. If there’s anything more we’ll jump on it.’
‘Yes, boss.’
Lister ambled out from the cells and the deputy raised his eyebrows.
‘This is Rob Lister. Rob, this is Mr Sedgwick. He’s going to teach you everything you need to know. Mind his lessons well.’
The men nodded at each other and the Constable noticed the wary look on the deputy’s face.
‘Take Rob out and show him the ropes,’ Nottingham instructed. ‘He’s joining us. I think he’ll catch on quick enough.’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘I’ll be gone most of the morning. Go round the pawnbrokers and sellers again, see if any of those items the servants stole have turned up yet. If they haven’t left Leeds I expect we’ll be due to hear more about them soon.’
‘Yes, boss.’ He looked expectantly at Lister. ‘Ready?’
Nottingham had taken the horse from the stable to go out to Headingley. He could have walked the distance easily enough, but riding would be quicker. More than that, he wouldn’t look like such a poor man when he arrived.
He’d made inquiries into Hartington before allowing Emily to go and work for the family. Everything indicated a man of probity. He was in his thirties and married with two young daughters, well respected, a supporter of charities for the poor. There was some money in his family but he’d built on that quite astutely, buying and selling land in Leeds.
His house was new, up to the fashion with a plain front and plenty of windows, set behind a long sweep of lawn. It was understated, elegant, and expensive. The Constable dismounted, and waited until a stable boy appeared to lead the animal away.
‘I’m here to see Mr Hartington,’ he told the footman at the door.
‘He’s breakfasting, sir,’ came the smooth, sure answer. Even in his best suit, no one would believe Nottingham to be a man of any wealth.
‘Tell him that the Constable of Leeds would like to talk to him,’ he said with quiet authority. ‘It’s important.’
He only had to spend five minutes in the withdrawing room before Hartington hurried in, a frown of annoyance on his face. He was a slight man, shorter than Nottingham, dressed with the casual ease of someone who could afford the best and wore it lightly. A full-bottom wig of glossy black brushed his shoulders, and his shoes buckles gleamed gold.
‘Well?’ he asked.
‘You dismissed my daughter yesterday.’
‘I did,’ Hartington agreed, eyeing the Constable warily and keeping a discreet distance. ‘I won’t tolerate a servant talking back to me. I told her that when she first came here.’
‘So saying no to rape is talking back in this house, is it?’ Nottingham asked evenly, keeping deliberately expressionless.
Hartington’s cheeks flushed with anger. ‘What? She told you that?’
‘She told me that and I believe her.’ He could see the man’s eyes shifting around the room, focusing on anything but his face.
‘She’s lying.’
The Constable said nothing at first then took a pace forward, close to Hartington. The man flinched.
‘She’s not. We both know that. Perhaps your wife would like to hear Emily’s side of the story. After all, she and the children were gone when it happened, weren’t they?’
‘That’s neither here nor there.’
‘I think it is.’ Nottingham moved one threatening step towards the door. ‘The people you do business with in Leeds will be interested to know, too.’
‘That would be slander, Mr Nottingham. It would be her word against mine.’
The Constable stopped and stared calmly at the man, his eyes cold, the anger an undercurrent in his voice.
‘Not quite; I’d make damned sure it was my word, too, Mr Hartington. You’d better think about that. By the time anything came to court the damage would already be done. You’d better understand exactly what I mean. I’ll make absolutely certain your reputation is ruined.’ He sounded forceful and convincing, yet in truth he had no idea whether anyone would listen to him. He was just the Constable, not a gentleman of rank.
A weighted silence filled the room. Nottingham could see the worry on Hartington’s face. He stayed silent a few more seconds, then said, ‘You’re going to write an excellent reference for Emily. The best you’ve ever written for anyone. Do that and we’ll forget the matter entirely.’
There was the gamble, he thought, watching the other man closely. Hartington could still call his bluff and he had nothing more in his arsenal. He stared at the man, eyes never wavering, mouth set hard.
Finally, with a curt nod, Hartington caved in. ‘I suppose it makes no difference to me if I recommend the girl or not.’
‘I’ll stay while you write it and take it home with me.’
‘Stay here, then.’ He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. From elsewhere in the house Nottingham could hear the high prattle and laughter of girlish voices. He breathed deeply feeling his heart pounding hard.
The longclock ticked softly, the hands moving through a full quarter-hour before the footman appeared with the letter. The Constable read it quickly, nodded and took his leave. Outside he folded it carefully and put it in the deep pocket of his waistcoat. The horse was waiting, but it wasn’t until he was back on the Otley road that he allowed himself the satisfaction of a smile. Hartington had done well in his humiliation; Emily would have no trouble finding another position. Nottingham might have another enemy now but it was just one more to add to the number.
‘You see him over there? You’ve got to watch him, he’d have your purse as soon as look at you.’
‘Which one?’ Lister asked, staring at a gaggle of young men gathered around a shop window.
‘The one on the edge with the fair hair.’ Sedgwick pointed out a youth of about twelve dressed in cast-off clothes whose face radiated a pauper’s innocence.