“Ah, Jeremy,” said Sir John, “words cannot express — that is, I … I blame myself for this terrible misadventure. You have my sincerest apology. But Annie said you … you …”
“Yes, sir,” said I, “it was the Raker.”
“The Raker! Good God, of course! He was always about, wasn’t he? And I always thought him half-mad. But you’re sure he was the one?”
“I saw him plain in clear moonlight, sir, and he had a knife — then he was as close as can be when he knocked me down. It was the Raker. I could not be more certain.”
“And he with a knife. We’re fortunate to have you alive.”
“I would not be, save for Mr. Perkins’s instructions.”
“Good lad,” piped Mr. Perkins, “you kept your wits about you.”
“I heard you fire. I supposed you shot him dead.”
“No, Jeremy, in my haste I missed. I feared I would hit you. Had I held off, I’d not have missed, I promise.”
“Constable Perkins — ” Sir John spoke in the tone of command.
“Yes, sir?”
“Go out and gather a party of Runners as swiftly as you can. Find Mr. Bailey if possible — but we cannot wait for him. I shall command the party, in any case.” Sir John sputtered a moment as his mind raced. “Jeremy,” said he then, “you saw the Raker, but did the Raker see you — well, of course he saw you but did he recognize you? Did he realize you had recognized him?”
I gave that a bit of thought. “I cannot say, sir,” said I at last. “He must have known I was no woman the way I bellowed for Mr. Perkins. But he grabbed me from behind, and we were in the dark most of the time. And so he may indeed have supposed he left unknown to me.”
“Very good,” said Sir John. “We may then find him there in that ghastly house of the dead. Let us hope, in any case, he has not fled. Off with you then, Mr. Perkins — four or five Runners should do.”
The constable left in a great rush and clattered down the stairs.
Mr. Donnelly, who had waited till these immediate matters were settled, then stepped forward and called for Annie to light a candle.
Then said he to me: “I can tell your brains aren’t addled, but let me take a closer look at you, now that you’re back among the living.”
Though excited by my conversation with Sir John and eager to know the result, once all had left my little room I remained awake only a few minutes more. If dreams I had, they were lost to me when I wakened in the light of morning. Carefully I then tested my wound by rising once again from my pillow. Again the pain had lessened. I was able to bring myself to a sitting position, ease my feet to one side, and relieve myself in the chamber pot at bedside. As yet I dared not try to stand.
Down below, Annie and Lady Fielding stirred about in the kitchen, and hearing the sounds of breakfast in preparation, I became aware of the hunger in my own belly — or was it a certain queasy feeling? Or was it both? I was, in any case, glad to hear footsteps on the stairs, and happier still to see Lady Fielding bearing a bowl of what I took to be porridge. It was not.
“Annie has prepared a good, hearty broth for you, Jeremy,” said she with a warm smile. ‘This is by command of Mr. Donnelly. He said you might not be able to hold down anything heavier.”
I pushed up on my elbows and declared I could sit up without difficulty. Yet she arranged my pillow in such a way as to elevate my head. I leaned back on my shoulders. Then did she sit down on my bed and insist on spoonfeeding me like a baby. Though somewhat chagrined at this, I found the broth most hearty, just as she had promised, and it seemed to cause my stomach no distress. I had naught to do but open my mouth to have it filled, and listen as she told me what she knew of last night’s events.
“You will want to know of the capture of that monstrous man,” said she, “since ‘twas you who made it possible.”
“The Raker?” I paused at the offered spoonful. “Is he below?”
“He is indeed — locked up safely in that little gaol they keep behind the courtroom. He will go before Jack in an hour, then straight to Newgate. Jack says he confessed, and besides was caught in a … a compromising position — no need for me to go into that. Those hideous crimes, and to such hideous purpose! Dear God, Jeremy, London is such a frightening, lawless place. I’ve come to believe that Jack and his constables are all that stand between us and absolute anarchy.”
“Yet they manage,” said I.
“So they do, and you with them. You cannot know how proud we are of you. Jack himself said he knew of no constable in the Runners who could have conducted himself more bravely than you. He is greatly angered at himself for putting you in danger. I think he wishes your forgiveness.”
I was somewhat taken aback at such a notion. “Why, there is naught to forgive. I would have done what I did a hundred times over for Sir John. I believe I would willingly die for him.”
“He knows that, and he seems to feel he has misused your trust. Yet we none of us felt there could be such a threat to your safety. After all, with five constables to protect you, what could possibly go wrong? And if Annie and I treated it lightly when we prepared you for the street, it was because we, too, felt you would be safe. You must forgive us our frivolousness.”
“There is naught to forgive,” I repeated. “I was far more embarrassed than I was fearful.”
“So we thought.” She sighed and rattled the spoon in the empty bowl. “Well, you’ve taken it all. How do you feel with something inside you? Not stomach-sick, I hope.”
“No, not a bit. Thank Annie for me. Tell her it was just what I needed.”
“One good thing has come of this,” said she. “That terrible man’s confession should remove suspicion from Mr. Tolliver. You and I both knew he could not have committed such crimes.”
“Indeed, it is true,” said I.
“But here, let me fix your pillow, so you may lie comfortable.”
She went about it as if her mind were elsewhere. When she had done, I lay back and looked up at her.
Then, after hesitating a moment, she spoke: “Jeremy, I shall tell you something I have never told Jack, so let it be a secret between us.” Again she hesitated. “At the time Jack asked me to marry, Mr. Tolliver was also courting me with the intention of marriage. He made that plain. He was a widower, and in every way he appeared to me to be a fine, upstanding man. I would indeed have married him had not Jack asked me. I cannot believe that I am such a bad judge of character that a man I would have married would be guilty of crimes of any sort, least of all those of such horrendous nature. And so you see, I am especially grateful to you for your part in bringing that man they call the Raker to the rope. I thank you for it, and I thank you, too, for your words to Jack in support of Mr. Tolliver.”
All that she told me I had guessed long before. Nevertheless, I said: “He will return and have a good reason for his absence. I’m sure of it.”
“Let that be our secret,” said she. And picking up the empty bowl she left me with the most serious of smiles.
Not long afterwards, Annie appeared at my door, stopping by prior to the buying trip to Covent Garden which, under ordinary circumstances, I might have made for her. She looked tired, and I told her so.
“And well I might be,” said she, “with Sir John stompin’ up and down the stairs, and me risin’ to look in on you twice more durin’ the night.”
“But you needn’t have, Annie. As you see, I’m in fine fettle.”
“Oh, I see fair enough. I’ve no doubt you look better than me — feel better, too. Well, I’m glad for it, Jeremy, for indeed you earned it. Maybe you ain’t heard, but it’s Sir John’s thought you should get that reward voted by Parliament — twenty guineas, and ain’t that a fair fortune!”
“He said that?”
“He did. And wouldn’t I take a knock on the head for twenty guineas?” Having said that, she looked down quickly to the floor. Then did she amend it: “Didn’t mean it. I’m sure you earned the reward, as well.” And, with a sigh: “Jeremy, old chum, I’m off to market. I’ll buy some apples, should Mr. Donnelly say you can have them.”