The Last Days of Newgate - Andrew Pepper [102]
‘I would imagine he’s not an easy man to like.’
She nodded forlornly.
Pyke decided to push a little further. ‘But you are perhaps beholden to him in other ways?’
‘As are all children of wealthy parents.’ Emily seemed amused by his boldness. ‘It would not surprise me, given your prowess as an investigator, if you already knew something about my own situation.’
‘I’ve heard rumours, that’s all.’
‘About?’
To the effect that your financial well-being is not wholly tied to your father’s generosity. Or lack of.’
Emily had a way of staring at him that he found deeply unnerving. ‘As a result of my mother’s foresight, I have a very modest independent income.’
Pyke thought about the information he had received from Godfrey and Townsend. ‘In which case, taking my side against your father reveals much about your courage.’
‘It reveals much, but not about my courageousness.’ Her tone was playful.
‘Oh?’
‘As you suggested to me on our visit to Newgate, altruism isn’t always divorced from self-interest.’
‘And coming to my rescue was an act of altruism?’ Emily licked her lips. ‘I liked the fact that you weren’t overawed by him. You mocked him without him realising it. Some people find him quite intimidating.’
Pyke bowed his head. ‘Then I accept the compliment.’ For a moment, neither of them spoke. ‘But there is still something you want to ask me, isn’t there?’ she added.
‘You would make a good investigator.’ His laugh ebbed away as he contemplated the subject of his question. ‘There’s a man who might be employed, in some capacity, by your father. I was led to believe that he worked as a security adviser for one of your uncle’s banks. He was the man who led me to the corpses in St Giles. Subsequently I discovered he’s Anglo-Irish and owns a small plot of land in County Armagh. Jimmy Swift. He’s got sandy-coloured hair and a distinctive mole on his chin. Do you know him?’
Emily furrowed her brow. ‘No, I don’t think I’ve come across such a person.’ She shrugged, apologetically. ‘You see, my father has business with so many people . . .’
‘I understand.’
‘Then perhaps I could ask you a question.’
‘I can’t very well say no, can I?’
‘No, you can’t,’ she told him firmly. ‘You come here and tell me these terrible things about my father, what he might have done, what he might be mixed up in, and I don’t challenge or correct you, or stand up for his honour. Then you question me about this man who may or may not work for my father, as though I’m some kind of suspect, or that I’m deliberately concealing something from you.’
‘I certainly didn’t mean to imply—’
‘Ssshhh, for a moment.’ She pressed her finger to her lips. ‘I’d say . . .’ She paused. ‘I’d say you’re not an easy man to get to know.’
Pyke pondered her statement. ‘I’m not sure anyone can truly know anyone else, if that’s what you mean.’
This drew a forced laugh. ‘Spoken like a man.’ But Emily was not finished with him. ‘In your world, I would imagine people have to prove themselves to you, in order to earn your trust.’
‘If I told you I’ve never wholly trusted anyone, would you think me a kind of machine?’
‘Perhaps not a machine but . . .’ Concern was etched on her face. ‘It must be a lonely existence.’
‘It is an existence. Or at least I am still . . . here.’
‘I think you’re missing the point,’ she chided him, gently.
‘It is I who am asking for a little of your trust.’ She seemed puzzled. ‘I would hope I’ve already proved myself to some extent.’
Suddenly Pyke felt foolish and self-interested. ‘You must think me unpardonably rude,’ he told her, not sure what else to say.
‘I wouldn’t imagine a man of your abilities cares to be in someone else’s debt.’
Pyke shrugged. ‘It would depend upon whose debt I was in.’
‘In which case, I should confess that my motivations for visiting your cell were not entirely selfless.’ Emily was smiling now.
‘Oh?’
‘Of course, I had to be