The Masters of Bow Street (74 page)

For the first time since the moment she entered the church, Katherine’s thoughts had been drawn from Richard.

The house, with such magnificence yet such scope for comfort and homeliness, was indeed an astounding proof of Simon’s generosity; she had not dreamed of anything like this. Hand in hand with Richard she had gone from room to room and floor to floor, neither saying more than a word here, a word there. It was as if each had been struck dumb.

Now, standing at the window and looking down once again at the walled garden, with its green lawn so trim and its borders freshly dug and filled with bushy wallflowers, Richard repeated, ‘I still can’t quite believe it.’

Almost on the moment that he finished, his expression changed. He turned, took both her hands and drew her close.

‘Katherine,’ he said huskily, ‘do you like it?’

‘Do I like the house?’

‘The house, the gift, the beauty in it. Will this be what you want?’

In a choky voice she said, ‘I think it can be, my love.’

‘We had planned to seek for ourselves. Would you prefer that?’

‘We could not so rebuff Simon,’ Katherine replied.

‘Yes, we could rebuff Simon,’ Richard said with sudden fierceness. ‘I want to give you what you desire. I want nothing to stand between us, nothing which is not - not
right
for us.’

Her heart was rejoicing.

‘Do you like this house, Richard?’

‘That is not the issue. The issue is—’

‘Richard,’ she interrupted, then caught her breath, half doubting whether she should go on with what she meant to ask, ‘Are you a little afraid of Simon?’

‘Afraid?’ he echoed, and pursed his lips; then he laughed. ‘Terrified!’

‘Be serious, beloved!’

‘He is a man who can strike terror,’ Richard replied, ‘and at the same time the kindest man alive. He has a heart of gold and a heart of rock. But for him, you and I would not be here. I owe him you, and I owe him much else. Now this house is—’

‘Too much?’

‘Overwhelming,’ Richard admitted. For the first time laughter glinted in his eyes. ‘It is right to be afraid of a man with power enough to come between you and me on
this day
of days.’ He drew her close, kissing her with surprising gentleness. ‘He brought us together . . . presented us with a house fit for a prince and a princess . . . he even graciously allowed us one hour on our own and then stood between us as if he were here in the flesh! Yes, I am terrified of him, lest he should now take you away!’

Moving with a suddenness which surprised her, Richard lifted Katherine bodily and with an ease revealing unsuspected strength. He carried her to the bed and placed her on it, then sat beside her and took her in his arms.

‘I am now demonstrating that you are mine and I am yours and nothing and no one can come between us. Katherine, will you ever begin to understand how much I love you?’

Soon she said breathlessly, ‘I hate the need but we must get up.’

‘I have been pondering the question,’ Richard said, kissing her more lightly, ‘and have to conclude that you are right. I have an uneasy feeling that you are likely to be right about many things. Will you answer me one question?’

Katherine nodded.

‘Are you at all apprehensive about tonight?’

She was momentarily puzzled, but understanding came swiftly and with warmth of feeling; she longed to turn this moment into ‘tonight’ and sought some way to reassure him. His face was so close to hers that she could feel the pressure of his body at her side and the gentle stir of his breath. So close. Across a room he was striking to look at, with his thick iron-grey hair and hawklike features; across a table this aquiline handsomeness took on a life, a zest for life which was much more part of him than she had dreamed. Inches away, every line, every lash, every hair, every speck in his eyes, were as clear as if seen through a magnifying glass; he was more handsome than she had ever realised.

His eyes began to cloud, as if he expected her answer to be ‘Yes’.

‘There is nothing in this world I want more than tonight,’ she told him.

He lowered his face until once again their lips touched; then he sprang up, startling her with his speed of movement, and stood over her, hands outstretched to help her to her feet.

‘Kate, my love.’ He chuckled. ‘I feel as if I have become young for the first time!’

As she looked up at him a bell rang in the distance, and in a moment it sounded again, telling them that soon their presence would be needed in the great hall of the house so near to this and yet so far away.

On May 26, 1829, the Police Bill was passed in the House of Commons. Confident that Peel would discuss the formation of the New Police with him, Richard was, as his grandfather before him, both astonished and hurt when, in the weeks that followed, he found he was not consulted. Indeed, it was through the newspapers that he first learned that on July 19 the bill received the Royal Assent and was now the law of the land.

At first he revealed little of his feelings even to Katherine, and when accosted by some member of the press, he simply declared himself delighted that his long-held dream had at last become a reality. Then, when one morning late in August a fair-haired youth introducing himself as Peter Winship of
The Times
stopped him outside the house in Great Furnival Square, Richard answered his questions with increasing impatience. All were to do with the formation of the New Police; all confirmed Richard’s suspicions that Peel had no intention of consulting him. Yet the young man himself was likeable and apparently well disposed.

‘There is a matter with which you should perhaps be acquainted,’ he said at last, and Richard quailed at the prospect of still more discouraging news. ‘You may already be aware of it, sir.’

‘Tell me, Mr. Winship, and I shall know.’

‘The strongest possible opposition is being organised against the New Police. It is coming from certain justices and politicians arid is being most cunningly spread among the people through taverns and alehouses, flash-houses and brothels - even through the guilds, which, as you know, have much influence. The most effective criticism is that despite Mr. Peel’s protestations the new force will be an army used to subdue the people, as at Peterloo.’

‘And do many people believe this?’ asked Richard slowly.

‘A great many, sir.’

Richard did what he could to ease the young man’s mind, then turned and strode into the house. He had never wanted to talk to Katherine more, but she was in the City at some meeting to do with the Gold and Silversmiths’ Charities and not likely to be back before midday. It was now a little after eleven o’clock and he was too restless to sit at his desk, restless and troubled. Why had Peel not consulted him about the organisation of the New Police? Was it because the government
did
intend to use them as an extension of the military, simply to put down civil disturbances?

When at last Katherine came home Richard told her of his fears. ‘And that young man’s questions made it quite obvious that, as I suspected, Peel is ignoring me in his preparations,’ he admitted. ‘

‘If true, it is wickedly unjust,’ Katherine said, touching his hand. ‘But are you sure it is true, my love? Soon after you left this morning this letter was delivered by one of Mr. Peel’s messengers.’ She took an envelope from the mantelshelf and held it out to him.

Richard took the envelope, opened it, and drew out a missive in the flowing hand of one of Peel’s secretaries:

The Minister for Home Affairs the Rt. Hon. Mr. Robert Peel will be pleased if you and Mrs. Marshall will wait on him at six o’clock this evening at Number 10 Downing Street, where he is in temporary residence. He will appreciate an acknowledgment only if it is not possible for you to attend.

He handed it to Katherine. ‘Well, Kate,’ he said slowly, ‘this will at least give me an opportunity to tell Mr. Peel of my fears. I only hope he has nothing to say which will make me lose my temper - I confess I have never been in greater danger of doing so.’

‘If you must lose your self-control, then pray wait until you have left him and are alone with me,’ Katherine counselled. ‘And now, my love, I must make preparations for our visit. I shall wear my peacock silk.’

Since the days of the Gordon Riots, nearly fifty years past, guards had always been stationed at the two approaches to Downing Street, now very different from the country lane it had been when Sir George Downing had built the first house there. Richard and Katherine were twice stopped and questioned before reaching the front door of Number 10, but once they were recognised, the guards stepped back with obvious respect, and at two minutes to six the front door opened and a youthful-looking man stood aside, bowing.

‘Good evening, ma’am. Mr. Marshall. Mr. Peel is ready for you to attend him. If I may take your cloak, ma’am.’

Only on one other occasion had Richard been in this plain brick house which, from its strange beginning, had become the official London residence of the First Minister of Great Britain, although the present Prime Minister, the Duke of Wellington, spent much time in the splendour of his own residence at Apsley House. There was a sense of dignity here, and of quiet. The young man led them to a room on the second floor, at the head of the stairs, tapped at the dark oak panelling of the door, and at Peel’s deep-voiced ‘Come in’ pushed the door aside and stood back for Richard and Katherine to enter. Peel rose to his feet from behind a large square-topped desk and came forward to greet them.

‘It is very good of you to come, ma’am.. Mr. Marshall. Do please be seated.’

He waited for Richard and Katherine to sit down in the big leather chairs arranged in front of the roaring log fire, then picked up a heavy crystal decanter.

‘I have often heard it said that one should take a little wine for the stomach’s sake - I trust you will share my pleasure. . . Good,
very
good.’

He filled three glasses, then sat down beside them, stretching his long legs towards the blaze, more like a country squire than a Minister of State.

‘And now, as you are both no doubt curious, I will come to the point.’ He turned to Katherine. ‘I wish to speak to your husband on three matters, ma’am. It is the second and third in which I think you will be interested; I shall be glad if you will bear with me over the first. Mr. Marshall’ - he swung to face Richard - ‘I am extremely anxious that in the formation of the New Police there should be fresh minds and a fresh outlook, and it is for
that reason only
that I have not called upon your assistance.’

Richard did not hear Peel’s next words, so great was the flood of relief which surged through him. ‘. . . for that reason only. . .’ Thank God his fears that the government would use the New Police against the people had been unjustified! How his grandfather would have rejoiced! How Sir John Furnival - But he must concentrate on what was still being said. Making a conscious effort, Richard forced himself to listen.

‘I have already selected two men whom I am considering calling “commissioners”,’ Peel was saying. ‘As you know, Mr. Marshall, one of the main purposes of the Act is to ensure the apprehension of criminals by the police, while the task of considering the accused persons’ interests when they have been formally charged will be the duty of judges, with juries when deemed necessary, and of justices if the crimes can be dealt with summarily. So “justices” will not long remain the name for the chief of the Police Office, and I cannot myself think of any better appellation than “commissioners”. Can you, Mr. Marshall?’

‘On the spur of the moment, no, sir. I have always liked the title.’

‘I am glad. I will now tell you in confidence, although a public announcement will be made in a few days, that I have appointed Mr. Richard Mayne and Colonel Charles Rowan and am extremely hopeful that they will work well together.’ Peel gave Richard no time to comment but went on: ‘They will have as their chief administrator, whose task it will be to enlist the members of the new force and to control its finances, a barrister by name Mr. John Wray. There will be the clearest terms of reference for enlistment. The early leaders of the smaller groups will be enlisted from the Army, in every case retired regimental sergeant majors, used to exerting command and discipline over men of the toughness and calibre needed for the police service. It is to be impressed on these leaders, who will be called sergeants and will have nine or ten men under them, that while these men must impose control, they must at no time be aggressive. Their task is to keep the peace, not to break it.’

Peel paused and Richard seized his opportunity.

‘I am heartily glad to hear it, sir. One great fear expressed to me has been that the police will become a civilian army, if I may be permitted such a contradiction in terms. How do you propose to arm the men, sir?’ He only just forbore to add: ‘If they are to be armed.’

‘With one weapon, and one only,’ answered Peel, ‘a weapon to be known as a truncheon.’

Putting his hand down the side of his chair he brought up a short cudgel such as used by the Bow Street patrols. Painted a glossy black, it was about two feet long, thicker at one end than the other, the thinner end ridged to insure a good fingerhold. On the thicker end Richard just glimpsed the magnificently enamelled Royal coat of arms, the lion and the unicorn rampant, in crimson and gold, as after one brief flourish Peel deftly slipped the cudgel back out of sight. There had been letters, too, skilfully inscribed in gold, but neither Richard nor Katherine had had time to see them, and it was apparent that Peel did not intend that they should.

‘And now the uniform,’ he went on swiftly. Dipping to the side of his chair once again, he drew forth several sheets of thick paper and riffled through them. ‘Ah, here is a drawing of that which I most favour. It has the distinction of being unmistakably official yet in no way military.’

Richard took the picture.

It was of a tall man wearing - and this was the first thing which struck him - a top hat, higher in the crown than an opera hat or a gentleman’s dress hat, yet unmistakably civilian in appearance. The jacket and trousers were dark blue, the jacket high-collared and with bright metal buttons, secured at the waist by a black leather belt. The trousers were loose-fitting, reaching just above the instep. The whole gave an impression of a guard rather than of a soldier or a sailor.