The Last Days of Newgate - Andrew Pepper [127]
‘As far as I understand it, Lord Edmonton has not simply threatened to disinherit my mistress, should she refuse to countenance this marriage. He has also instructed his lawyer to draw up a codicil to his will. From what I could gather from their conversation, the codicil states that if, at any point following Lord Edmonton’s death and the death of any of my mistress’s future husbands, she should marry you, then she would forfeit any claim to her inheritance and the family estate.’
‘I am to be personally named in this new document?’
‘As I understand it.’ Her manner was almost apologetic.
So it was a choice between him and the money, Pyke thought bitterly. The fat lord was indeed a formidable adversary.
‘And how can I contact Emily, should I need to,’ Pyke asked, ‘if she’s to be kept locked up in her quarters?’
Jo told him Emily would make arrangements to contact him.
‘Where? Here?’
Jo shrugged and said she did not know.
‘Here,’ he said, scribbling his uncle’s address down on a scrap of paper. ‘Should Emily need to get in touch.’ Pyke waited for a moment. ‘Thank you for making the journey from Hambledon.’
This time, Jo could not bring herself to look at him. ‘I just want what is best for my mistress.’ She fidgeted, shifting her body weight awkwardly from foot to foot.
‘But I have yet another reason to be grateful to you in particular.’
This time Jo neither answered him nor even looked at him. He approached her, smiling.
‘Do you know what I’m referring to?’
‘No.’
‘The occasion you warned me about the assault in the Blue Dog tavern.’ As Jo tried to leave, he grabbed her wrist. ‘Well?’
She stared at him like a trapped rabbit but managed to mutter, ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You shouted my name. I presume to warn me.’ He tightened his hold on her wrist. ‘But I cannot for the life of me work out why you might have been following me in the first place.’
‘I have never even been to that place.’ She grimaced, struggling in vain to free herself from Pyke’s grip.
‘You concealed your face well under the bonnet. But it was your voice that gave you away.’
‘I’m afraid you’re mistaken, sir.’
‘Am I?’ Pyke let go of her wrist, aware that he had perhaps bruised her, and watched as she gathered up her skirt and hurried from the church.
TWENTY-THREE
Sir Richard Fox disembarked from his private carriage and was hurrying towards the entrance to number five Bow Street when Pyke caught up with him. Pyke was dressed as a beggar and Fox did not recognise him until he said, ‘Don’t look at me, Sir Richard. Just keep on walking, as though you have somewhere else to go.’
Rigid as a washboard, Fox did as he was told. Though Pyke could not be certain, it struck him that Fox may have been frightened.
Thirty yards past the Bow Street offices, they came to a halt. Pyke looked around, to make sure that no one had followed them. The street was thronging with the usual traffic of carriages, carts and traders.
‘The addresses,’ he said, not bothering with any formalities.
Fox looked around him, as though searching for assistance. ‘I told you yesterday, Pyke. Vines is away at the moment.’
‘His address.’
‘It’s somewhere in the office, if you want to come in with me and wait . . .’ He smoothed his moustache.
‘Tilling’s, then.’
‘Ah, yes, I managed to find that one for you.’ He reached into his jacket, pulled out his wallet, removed a scrap of paper and thrust it into Pyke’s outstretched hand.
Pyke read what was on the scrap, stuffed it into his own pocket and said, ‘I’ll be back for Vines’s address.’
Pyke was already five yards along the street, disappearing into the crowd, when he heard Fox shout, ‘Pyke.’
It was an innocent mistake, or so Pyke believed - uttering the name of an old friend or acquaintance, as one might do under normal circumstances. But its consequences were startling. At first, other passers-by seemed not to have heard Fox’s mistake, or at least did not outwardly respond to it. Pyke pulled the cap down over his face and walked briskly in the direction of Covent Garden market, trying not to draw attention