The Last Days of Newgate - Andrew Pepper [134]
An hour later, he watched as the same carriage journeyed up the well-maintained drive from the hall and swept through the gate; he caught a brief glimpse of Emily through one of the windows but could not see whether she was alone or had company.
When the carriage finally pulled up outside a smart-looking terraced residence in a pleasant, leafy street that adjoined Russell Square, the footman climbed down from the roof and waited until a servant appeared from inside the house holding an umbrella before pulling down the steps and opening the door. The servant held open the umbrella and escorted Emily up the steps to the Doric porch. Pyke watched as they disappeared into the entrance hall; the brightly painted front door closed behind them.
As he waited on the far side of the street, watching a sweeper move through the traffic collecting coins from passing cabs and carts, Pyke wondered how long Emily would remain in the house. What would be an appropriate amount of time? Would an hour be too long? What if she stayed there for the entire morning? What might this indicate in terms of future intentions?
He was so occupied with these thoughts that he almost didn’t notice Emily scampering down the steps in front of the house after only a few minutes and hailing a passing cab.
His first inclination was to go after her, to find out what had taken place and to make sure that she was all right. But he could not be certain she would appreciate such a gesture, especially if she hadn’t actually instructed Jo to tell him about this meeting. She might resent him for spying on her and say nothing of what had happened in the house.
Instead, Pyke watched the cab turn into Russell Square and found himself standing in front of the man’s residence.
Pyke’s curiosity had been sufficiently piqued to risk approaching the front door. He didn’t know what he might say to Sloan, but if Sloan represented Edmonton’s parliamentary interests there might be some advantage in confronting him. If he seemed to be virtuous, Pyke could take this opportunity to further besmirch Edmonton’s reputation. And if he seemed to be a rogue, Pyke could make his accusations and see how he responded.
It did not cross Pyke’s mind that the man himself might open the door, particularly given his earlier sighting of at least one servant. That said, even before the door was opened, he heard the man mutter angrily, ‘I wondered if you might reconsider,’ as though he believed the visitor to be Emily.
Up close, the mole on his chin was purple rather than brown.
‘You’re a formidable man, Pyke. Formidable indeed,’ Peel said, without bothering to stand up or shake his hand.
Tilling had ushered Pyke into his front room and pointed to one of the horsehair chairs. Pyke assured him that he was more comfortable standing.
Peel was much as he remembered: tall, elegantly dressed, with a long angular face and reddish hair.
‘I think Fitzroy has already told you of my regrets at not being able to do more for you. It was with a heavy heart that I permitted your execution to proceed.’
‘What about the man who was hanged for the St Giles murders? Was it with a heavy heart that you permitted his execution to proceed?’
For a moment, Peel seemed flummoxed. Then irritation and anger appeared to take over. He stared at Pyke and asked, ‘Do you think I am immoral?’
‘I think you are a politician. The two are perhaps not unrelated.’ Pyke sighed, not really wanting to further provoke the man.
This seemed to irritate Peel. ‘Servants of the state who are responsible for enforcing the