The Last Days of Newgate - Andrew Pepper [101]
Edmonton’s Islington residence was a three-storey town house on Cloudsley Terrace, a row of new houses looking out over an attractive expanse of common land, ten minutes’ walk from the junction of New Road and High Street in Islington. Although the house was beyond his own financial means, Pyke was disappointed by its size and scale. It was more than adequate for ambitious office clerks who worked in the City, but it seemed far too modest for a titled aristocrat. This impression was reinforced when he was escorted by Emily’s servant to the drawing room on the first floor.
It was a well-appointed and tastefully decorated room, with a Turkey carpet covering most of the wooden floor, a high ceiling adorned by intricate cornice-work, a large bay window at the front of the room and a series of easy chairs and a cream sofa arranged around a grand piano. But as he settled down on the sofa and waited for Emily to appear, it struck him that, aside from the marble fireplace, there was nothing extravagant about its decor. On closer inspection, the sofa and chairs seemed threadbare, and apart from two small but intriguing drawings that hung on one of the walls, the overall impression was one of modesty and even thrift. Again he wondered about Godfrey’s comments about the perilous state of Edmonton’s finances.
Emily had changed into a pale-grey cotton dress with a high-cut empire waist. Alone in the room, there was a palpable awkwardness between them, as though neither of them knew how to greet the other or what to say.
Perhaps to strip away some of this politeness, Pyke told her as much of the truth about what had happened to him as he felt was necessary. He intimated, though only obliquely, that her father was involved in the blood-letting that had taken place, mostly because he did not want to deceive her about his own intentions towards the man. Perhaps he told her too much, because when he had finished her expression seemed to indicate a mixture of bemusement and fear.
Emily was not as brittle as he had first supposed, but he did not yet know whether she was as robust as she pretended to be. Nor, despite her apparently self-evident loathing of her father, did he know where her loyalties ultimately lay. Therefore telling her even a little of the truth had been a calculated risk.
Emily looked at him with an impenetrable expression. ‘One night, shortly before you showed up at Hambledon, I overheard my father talking about an incident in which you had tricked him into paying for the return of goods that you’d stolen from him. He called you a scoundrel but sounded a little impressed too.’ She looked away and shrugged. ‘He’s not a man who’s easily impressed.’
Pyke weighed up this information.
‘I knew my father had something planned for you but I didn’t know what.’ Her expression softened. ‘I should have said something to you.’
‘You have done more than enough to assist me and I will for ever be in your debt.’ He hesitated for a moment, to collect his thoughts.
Blushing slightly, she said, ‘But you still seem bothered by something.’
‘I am not so much bothered as . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘Don’t think for a moment I am not eternally grateful for what you did for me but I am struck that your actions carried very grave risks for you.’
‘What? In terms of upsetting my father?’ This time Emily laughed. ‘As you may have noticed, ours is not a warm or even a close relationship.’
‘But he is still your father.’ He studied her reaction carefully. The light from the candle accentuated the shape of her cheekbones.
Emily took her time to respond. ‘When we last talked outside Newgate, you intimated that you were cognisant of certain aspects of my mother’s demise.’ She shook her head. ‘When she finally passed away, he did not even permit me to