Constant Lovers (25 page)

‘Do you think it'll work?' Rob asked.

‘I don't know.' Sedgwick sighed loudly as they walked up Call Lane, back towards Kirkgate. ‘Maybe for a day or two. He thinks he's a tough one, does that lad. He reckons Worthy might be weak so he's going after him. But he'll get a shock it if really comes down to it.'

‘Worthy's still strong, then?'

‘Oh, aye. Have you ever met him?'

Lister shook his head.

‘He must be well over sixty by now, but he's still big. I wouldn't want to go up against him. Got a temper on him, too. Hughes wouldn't stand a chance. The boss hates him, but he seems to like him, too. It's strange; doesn't make any sense to me.' He pushed open the door of the White Swan once more and sat on an empty bench in the corner. ‘You can get them,' he told Rob.

Twenty

The Constable nudged the horse into a canter, holding tight on the reins as he jounced up and down in the saddle. He wondered grimly what the deputy had found and hoped against hope that Hughes and Worthy wouldn't collide. He needed to be out here, on his way to Horsforth, but he needed to be back in the city, too, taking care of his business there.

He'd made good time, but felt his legs tremble as he dismounted, the animal snickering with the pleasure of the exertion as he turned it over to the stable boy. Well before he could reach the door, Samuel Godlove was coming out to him, dressed in his country clothes, once again a suit of sturdy brown cloth, woollen stockings rather than hose, his head bare, and worn, scuffed, working boots on his feet.

‘Mr Nottingham.' He extended his hand and the Constable took it, seeing no sign of guile and deception in the man's sad eyes. ‘Please tell me you have some news.'

‘Not yet,' he apologized. ‘I'm sorry, I know you need answers, but I do have a few more questions.'

Godlove's face clouded momentarily but he said, ‘Yes, of course, of course. I need to check a few things, would you mind walking with me?'

Nottingham agreed and the pair set off together.

‘You went to Bradford that last time your wife left to see her parents.'

‘Yes,' Godlove answered, sounding a little surprised. ‘That's hardly a secret. I have some friends over there. I go and see them often.'

‘Might I ask who?'

‘Charles Deane and his wife. He trades in wool there; I've known him since we were boys.' He scratched his cheek. ‘Are you trying to suggest something?'

‘Not at all.' The Constable smiled reassuringly. ‘I just need to know where you were.'

‘I stayed there overnight,' Godlove offered. ‘I do that regularly, have done for years. We played cards and drank quite a bit. I had some business out towards Halifax the next day and then I came home.'

‘Quite late?'

‘Yes, I suppose it was,' he answered slowly. ‘I never thought about it. I didn't imagine I'd have anyone asking me questions on what I'd done.'

‘No, of course not.' Nottingham paused, changing the topic warily. ‘Tell me, did you know your wife went into Leeds every week?'

‘Leeds?' he said in astonishment. ‘She went there sometimes, to see a dressmaker or buy things, and we'd go to the assemblies on occasion, but it certainly wasn't every week.'

‘She and her maid went out one day each week.'

‘Yes. I told you that before.'

‘That's when she went into the city.'

Godlove was silent for a long time.

‘I don't understand,' he said eventually, his confusion evident. ‘She always told me she could only tolerate Leeds in small amounts.'

‘I can assure you, she went there every week,' the Constable said again. ‘We have proof of it.'

The man raised questioning eyes. ‘But why would she go there?'

This would be the test, he thought, to see how Godlove reacted when he heard. So far he seemed perfectly honest, his sorrow completely believable. God knew he didn't want to have to say it; if the man was innocent it would break his heart. But there was no other way.

‘Well?'

‘She had a lover there.'

He watched carefully, studying the man's face. For a moment Godlove was completely still, as if the world had stopped, and then his mouth started to move, but no words came out. If this was acting, Nottingham decided, he was the best player in England.

‘I don't believe you,' he said finally, his voice stretched tight with hope. ‘She had everything she could want here.'

Except the man she really loved, the Constable thought. And that was worth more to her than an estate.

‘I'm sorry,' he said with a sigh. ‘I really am, but it's true.'

It had only taken a few seconds, but whatever life and fire had remained in Godlove had evaporated. For all his wealth and stature, all his lands and goods, he looked as empty and broken as a beggar on the road.

‘Who was he?' he asked bleakly.

‘He's dead.'

‘Dead?'

‘He killed himself,' was all the Constable would say.

‘Did he kill her?' He heard faint hope in Godlove's question.

‘No, I'm almost certain he didn't.'

‘What was his name?'

Nottingham shook his head.

‘What was his name?' The question came out like a desperate plea. ‘Please, you've just told me that my wife had a lover and you won't tell me who he was.'

The Constable hesitated for a moment; perhaps the man had a right to know, and the knowledge could do no more harm.

‘He was called Will Jackson. He was part-owner of a cloth finisher.'

‘How old was he?'

‘He was young.'

Godlove nodded once, as if this was the answer he expected.

‘When did they meet?' he asked.

He didn't really want to know, Nottingham understood that. It would simply be salt placed on a gaping wound. But at the same time he had to, needed to. Not knowing, to wonder always, would be even worse. And he'd been cruelly deceived, he had a right to the truth, at least some of it. Some things were better kept in the dark of the grave.

‘It was before you knew her,' he said gently. The man opened his mouth but the Constable held up his hand. ‘She stopped seeing him for a while. I don't know how or when it all began again.'

‘They met every week? You're sure?'

‘It seems that way.'

‘Did he love her?'

In the man's position he'd have asked the same question, needing the answer however much pain it caused.

‘Yes,' he answered, without any doubt. Jackson had killed himself because he couldn't have her.

Godlove sighed, running his hands through his hair over and over, as if he didn't know what else to do. He seemed to grow smaller and smaller before the Constable, as if a breeze might eventually lift him and carry him away.

‘I'm sorry,' Nottingham said. He reached out to touch the other man on the arm but Godlove pulled back, turning his face so that he wouldn't have to show the tears in his eyes.

‘I didn't kill her.' His voice was quiet. ‘I couldn't. I loved her.'

‘I believe you.'

‘Can you go now? Please.'

The Constable left the man in the field and walked away. At the stable he collected the horse. When he reached the end of the drive he glanced back to see that Godlove hadn't moved. At times he hated this job. He'd broken a good man whose only fault was to love a faithless girl.

And even then, the blame wasn't all hers, he thought. If her parents hadn't been so greedy for money she could have had the man she loved. He wasn't sure which of the pair had more of his sympathy. There was no beauty in any of the love he'd seen here, just pain, hopelessness and death.

The bachelor who'd bought his bride was alone again, everything he'd believed about his wife shattered, the other two were dead. There were no happy endings, only dark ever afters.

Nottingham was still brooding after he'd reached Leeds and stabled the animal. He pushed his way through the crowded streets, glancing quickly at Worthy's door as he passed and made his way to the jail.

He still didn't know who'd killed Sarah Godlove.

‘Anything, boss?' Sedgwick asked as the Constable sat down and poured a mug of ale. The day had grown hot and he was weary.

‘He's innocent, no doubt about it. What did you find out here?'

‘Hughes again. I went round and had a few strong words.'

‘You think it'll work this time?'

‘Not for more than a few days. There's going to be trouble soon.'

‘His fists are bigger than his brain,' Nottingham said. ‘It's Saturday. You'd better have more men out tonight, just in case he decides to start something. Rob, you can go out with them. If there's any trouble at all, crack some heads hard and fetch Mr Sedgwick. Carry a cudgel. I don't want this getting out of hand.'

‘Yes, boss,' Lister answered.

‘Right,' he told them, ‘go on home, the pair of you. Rob, come back about eight. Get some sleep, you'll be out late tonight. You spend some time with that family of yours, John.'

‘Yes, boss,' Sedgwick replied with a grin.

‘Honest, he told me to go home,' he explained to Lizzie when she wouldn't believe the Constable had released him early from work. ‘I don't know why, but I wasn't going to say no.'

She still looked at him sceptically before letting her mouth curl into a slow smile.

‘Go on, I'll buy it, John Sedgwick, but thousands wouldn't.' She stood up, smoothing down her old dress. ‘Well, since he told you to spend time with us, we can go out for the afternoon. Isn't that right, James?'

The boy took her hand and nodded firmly. The deputy knew he didn't have a chance against the pair of them.

‘Where do you want to go?' he asked with a loud sigh and a smile.

‘Kirkstall Abbey,' Lizzie answered quickly. ‘I haven't been there in years.'

He agreed with just the slightest reluctance, the memory of Sarah Godlove's body as it had looked at the jail flickering through his mind.

‘We'd better get going, then,' he said, then wondered, ‘Are you sure it's not too far in your state?'

She shook her head sadly at him.

‘John, I'm having a baby, I'm not dying or ill, you know. People have been doing it for centuries. Now stop mithering me. It's lovely out, let's enjoy it.'

They strolled along the riverbank, following the path out of the city. James kept running ahead, gathering an oddly shaped twig, a grub on a leaf, and bringing his finds for them to inspect.

The afternoon sun was warm, not too hot, perfect for a slow amble together. He held Lizzie's hand, proud to be out with her, to have his small family around him. They passed others, exchanging polite greetings.

‘Have you asked the Constable about more money yet?'

‘No,' Sedgwick admitted. ‘It's been busy.'

‘The sooner you do it, the sooner we'll know. And we're going to need it, John.' She rubbed her stomach lightly, a reminder he didn't need.

‘I will,' he promised. ‘Soon. I mean it.'

‘Has James ever been out here before?'

‘Once, not that he'd remember it. He was just a baby then, couldn't even crawl.'

‘Do you ever miss her?' Lizzie asked casually.

The question took him aback. ‘Miss who?'

‘Annie. The one you were married to.'

‘God, no,' he answered fiercely. ‘Good riddance to her. You know, even her father warned me not to marry her, and he was right. James is the only worthwhile thing to come out of that.'

‘Well, he's ours now.' She squeezed his hand tightly. ‘And the new one will be, too.'

‘So what do you want to call this one?'

‘Not yet,' she told him, the lightness and merriment suddenly gone from her voice. ‘It's bad luck to think of that before they're born.'

He nodded and kissed her cheek, then ran off after James, roaring like a beast to scare the lad and chase him until they fell in a tangle. They drew closer to the ruins of the old buildings, the tower rising tall and stark against the sky.

‘Is it very, very old?' James asked. He looked up, his voice full of awe.

‘Aye, it is,' Sedgwick told him. ‘It's been here a long time.'

‘Was it a castle?'

‘No, it was like a very big church, I think. But I'll take you to a castle one day, if you like.'

‘Yes, please,' the boy said eagerly and his father laughed, tousling the lad's thick hair. ‘You go and explore. We'll be sitting over here.'

‘And don't get into any trouble,' Lizzie warned.

‘I won't, mam,' he said, and he ran off to climb the old staircases and delve into the cellars.

‘Mam,' the deputy said with a grin.

‘The best word in the world.'

They sat on the remains of a low wall, watching the river swirl lazily by. After a while Lizzie stretched then lay down on the grass.

‘I'm just going to doze for a little while,' she said. ‘Do you mind?'

‘Of course not.'

He took off his coat, folding it to give her a pillow. As he knelt she reached out and took his hand. In a soft, contented voice she said, ‘Why are you so nice to me, John Sedgwick?'

‘Because I love you, you daft thing,' he told her. ‘Why do you think?'

As she drifted away, her face caught in the sunlight, he sat, watching over her, giving out a low whistle every few minutes to summon James. The lad was relishing the freedom to run and play unchallenged, his face and hands already mucky, his smile a mile wide. It looked as if he'd found some older boys to follow, and he was determined to show he wasn't any kind of baby, fearlessly jumping off arches taller than himself and clambering along treacherous pieces of masonry.

Sedgwick saw himself at that age, full of the same indestructible spirit. He'd broken a few bones and knocked out one or two teeth, but it had never stopped him. It was better than caution; there was far too much of that around. Boys needed a bit of adventure. Soon enough they'd be grown and the world would close in around them.