The Last Confession of Thomas Hawkins (42 page)

The Court noted that he was a man of Honour and that it was a great Calamity to see his Daughter in such a Grave and Lamentable situation.

The Witness thanked the Court but declar’d that she was quite Content with her Life, save for her current Woes. She spoke at length of the Prisoner’s Kind and Gentle acts towards her and diverse Others and swore that he was Innocent. She insist’d that the Prisoner was not capable of such a Bloody deed and that on the Night of the Murder he was in her Company at all times and Cou’d not have Done it.

The Prisoner interjected, reminding the Witness that she was speaking upon Oath and must not Perjure herself on his Behalf.

The Witness answer’d with great Vehemence that she was right Glad that the Prisoner troubled himself to Speak to her and was it not a Shame that he had not reply’d to her letters, and had refus’d to Meet with her despite her Many and Various requests to do so, giving no Consideration to her own Feelings upon the Matter, and moreover was it not a Folly that it took a Trial at the Old Bailey before he would speak two words to her and only then to Accuse her of Lying and so make further Trouble for them Both, and that she call’d upon the whole Court to Witness that the Prisoner had thus shew’d himself to be a Witless Fool and had indeed no Capacity for Murder not only because he had, she must concede, a Good Heart, but also a Muddled Head, to a Degree that was Vexing beyond all Measure, and it was truly a wonder he had surviv’d this long, and a marvel indeed that she yet cared a great deal for him – God help her – and begged that the Jury would Judge the case by its facts and not by the Prisoner’s Behaviour, which was Perplexing and Infuriating in equal Parts. And she ask’d the said Prisoner if he had turn’d mad, and should be locked in Bedlam instead of Newgate, and did he not see that her Heart was Broken? At which point she Wept most Piteously, and the Prisoner seem’d much affected, though he did not Reply.

The King’s Council, who had failed to Interrupt this testimony at Several Junctures, took this opportunity to dismiss the Witness, who was led away by
Alice Dunn
.

The Court observ’d that it was a great Pity to see such a spirited young woman ruined by a Black-Hearted villain, and that here was Instruction for any foolish Strumpet who had fallen into evil company. The Court then spoke thus:

Prisoner, you hear the Charge and Evidence against you; now you stand up on your Defence.

Prisoner
. My Lord: notwithstanding what has been sworn against me, I am Innocent. I confess I did threaten the deceas’d but this was done in a moment of ill humour and under much provocation and also Liquor. The deceas’d had spread Vile lies about the Town and had threaten’d to Destroy me. I am Guilty of speaking Violence, my Lord, but not of committing it. Indeed I have an abhorrence of Violence. I could no more stab a man than plunge the Blade into my own Heart.

My Lord, the King’s Council has offer’d no proof that I committed the Act, only Rumour and Conjecture. I swear upon my Soul that I am Not Guilty and beg that the Jury considers the Facts and does not Judge me upon my Character, for I own that I have not always Behav’d with Good Judgement, and should I be spared will Strive to be a better Man, God help me.

The Court asked if the Prisoner still believed the Murder was committed by one of the children of the Deceas’d, or by
Ned Weaver
, his Apprentice?

The Prisoner reply’d that he did not. He acknowledg’d that in his Desire to prove his Innocence he had caused Distress, and express’d his Apologies to the family. He added that it was his belief that a House breaker had stolen in and disturb’d the Victim, and so murder’d him in cold blood.

Council for the King
. And how does the Prisoner account for the Doors and Windows being barred and lock’d?

Hawkins
. I cannot account for it, sir. I am at a loss. But I swear I am Innocent.

The Court asked if the Prisoner wished to call upon any witnesses to speak in his defence?

Hawkins.
I regret that I have no witnesses to call, my Lord.

The Court observed that a Man with no Friends or Family to speak for him at such an Hour was a pitiable Wretch indeed and the Jury should consider this Fact when they came to Deliberate: that the Prisoner could not find one Soul in the whole Kingdom to speak for him.

And here the Prisoner rested his Defence.

The Court then proceeded to sum up the Evidence to the Jury with great Discernment and Observation. The Guilt or Innocence of the Prisoner was left to the Jury
’
s Determination, who did not leave the Court but agreed after a brief time upon their Verdict, finding Thomas Hawkins Guilty of Murder; and the Verdict was so Recorded.

FINIS

Chapter Twenty-One

The jury found me guilty. Twelve gentlemen, who cared so little for my defence that they did not even deign to leave the courtroom to deliberate. A hurried discussion, curt nods, and it was done. I have sat with friends and agreed supper plans with more care and scrutiny.

Friends.
The judge had spoken the truth – what good was a man with no one to speak for him when his life hung in the balance? I had spied a few of my old companions in the crowds, watching me fight as if it were a game of skittles. No doubt they would be placing bets on how soon I would hang. These were the men I had called friends these past few years. Not one had spoken for me.

The guards led me through the courthouse, men jeering at my back. I barely heard them, barely noticed as I was taken deeper into the gaol, back to my cell with its thick stone walls and tiny window. I thought of Kitty, weeping as she left the court, her head buried on Alice’s shoulder. I saw Fleet nod his approval as I was dragged away, our business concluded. And I thought of Charles Howard, smirking with satisfaction. Fleet and Howard . . . These are the men who prosper in our age.

I collapsed to the floor, dazed with shock. I had prepared for this moment and still it knocked me reeling.
Guilty.
Condemned for ever as a murderer. My heart felt like a brick lodged in my chest.

I sat unmoving as the day faded and the shadows lengthened. A cold wind blew through the window so I dragged the blanket from the bed and wrapped it about my shoulders, but it was thin and offered little comfort. At some point a voice asked if I wished for supper, but I could not bear the thought of food, not tonight. I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand, exhausted beyond all measure but unable to sleep.

My thoughts returned to Kitty, dressed in her emerald gown, her face drawn. She had seemed thinner too, her cheekbones sharp where before they had been soft and plump. She had stared at me, hoping to see beyond the mask of indifference I wore. I had forced myself to stare back, eyes cool, my true feelings buried far beyond reach.

I reached for them now, though. I clung to them in the dark. They were all I had left.

The next day I had a visitor – and she brought hope at last.

Betty appeared at my cell late in the evening, her face hidden beneath a dark riding hood. She must have bribed the turnkey on duty for his silence. He reached to grope her arse as she slipped through the door but his fingers grabbed thin air. Betty had worked at Moll’s for two years – she knew how to avoid a man’s grasp and make it appear an accident. That, indeed, was Betty’s great skill – twisting and turning and dancing out of harm’s way, without ever causing offence or bringing attention down upon her head.

The door clanged shut and we were alone. She lowered her hood but wrapped her cloak tightly about her. The air was cold and dank even in this gentlemen’s part of the gaol. She took in the limits of my cramped cell, and my ragged appearance, eyes ringed with shadow from another sleepless night. The man in the next cell had been raving all night in some feverish delirium, screaming that he was in hell and begging God to spare him. Then he was quiet. I had lain in the dark with no candle, the silence heavy and oppressive. It was so black and still that I conceived a strange fear that I was already dead and trapped inside my coffin. When dawn came, I felt a moment’s relief to know I was alive, before I remembered where I was.

Betty lowered the heavy basket she had brought with her and began to unpack it. Bread and cheese, a bottle of claret. Candles. Paper, quills and ink. A few books. A thick blanket. I snatched this eagerly. ‘Thank you.’

She winced and looked away, embarrassed to see me so desperate, but there was nowhere to rest her gaze. A narrow cell, a bed, a table and chair. Names scraped into the thick stone wall by other wretched souls.

V
ALENTINE
C
ARRICK
1722

L. N
UNNEY
20yrs G
OD
S
PARE
MY
S
OUL

A
BRAHAM
D
EVAL
– I
NNOCENT

All hanged.

I looked at Betty and she looked at me, just as we had done the night we’d first met. We had laughed at each other across that crowded room. Now we stood in an empty cell, in silence.

Betty worked long hours at Moll’s, but I had never seen her so tired as she was now. Her brown skin was dull and tinged almost grey, as if she had been ill, and her eyes were bloodshot. Had she been crying? For me?

She ran a finger beneath her cap, tidying her curls. ‘I have good news.’

This was unexpected. If the news were good, why did she seem so grave?

‘Mr Budge has spoken with the queen. You will be pardoned.’

It took me a moment to understand that I was saved. Then I gave a cry and dropped to my knees in joy and relief. I could not think or speak. Betty knelt down next to me, peering into my face. ‘Mr Hawkins?’

I clasped her to me, circling my arms about her waist. ‘I will live.’

She let me hold her for a time. ‘There is a cost.’

My heart dipped. She did not need to explain. The queen could ask anything of me now, and I must obey. And still the verdict would remain. Even with the pardon, I would be named a murderer for the rest of my life. I did not care, not then. I wouldn’t hang – and that was all that mattered. ‘I will
live
, Betty.’

She tilted her head as if to say,
in a fashion
. She had warned me that this day would come. I had not run when she had begged me to, and now my life was no longer my own. But it was a
life
. There would be a tomorrow and a tomorrow . . . And the chance to wriggle out of the queen’s grasp one day.

Betty returned to her basket and laid out a modest supper. She poured us both a glass of claret and we sat down together like an old married couple.

‘When will the pardon come?’

‘I don’t know. Late, I think. Budge said you must be patient.’

I lowered my glass. ‘I am sentenced to hang in ten days.’

Tears sparkled in her eyes. She seemed so anxious that I found myself trying to reassure her, acting in a more confident manner than I felt. I lit a pipe and told her of my plans to write a full confession of all that had happened to me, in the hope that one day it would help to clear my name. She did not ask why I did not speak out now and save myself – Betty did not ask questions when she knew there could be no answers. She promised to find a way to smuggle the journal from my cell when it was done, and to keep it hidden. I trusted her to read it and to understand its secrets – to know when it would be safe to pass it on to those who should know the truth.