The Last Days of Newgate - Andrew Pepper [50]
There was a time when he had thought Lizzie to be the most desirable woman in the whole of London. This sentiment was augmented by the fact that Lizzie had promised herself to a housebreaker whom George, her father, did not approve of. In order to break up this union, and to earn George’s respect, Pyke had solicited the man’s assistance, to steal jewels and bonds from a house on Great Russell Street, and arranged for four constables to make the arrest, while the robbery was taking place. During the trial the robber, who had a headstrong manner and a vicious disposition, had leapt from the dock, retrieved a knife from an associate who was seated in the public gallery and attacked Pyke. Now, a few years later, Pyke could not exactly recall how he had disarmed this man but he was struck by the gallantry of his own long-ago actions; the fact that he had been willing to risk life and limb for the woman whom he now took entirely for granted.
So engrossed was he in these thoughts that he did not notice Brownlow Vines until the man was practically breathing in his face. In his hat and gloves, Vines looked utterly out of place. It did not strike Pyke until later that Vines might be the emissary from Peel.
In an awkward gesture, Vines made to shake Pyke’s hand, and when he saw that Pyke had no intention of doing likewise, he patted him on the arm. ‘This is where you like to spend your time. How . . . colourful.’
Vines was dressed in a cream frock-coat, cravat, tight-fitting trousers and immaculately polished boots, and in the surroundings seemed even more foppish than usual.
‘What do you want, Vines?’
Vines made a point of appearing to be hurt. ‘May I suggest that I buy us both a drink?’ He glanced over at the bar and tried to attract someone’s attention. ‘Miss. Miss?’ It took Pyke a few moments to realise he was talking to either Lizzie or one of the barmaids.
It was a nauseating spectacle, Vines’s attempt to flirt with Lizzie while one of the other barmaids poured two mugs of stout and placed them on the counter before him. Vines seemed pleased with himself, as though his efforts revealed his common touch. Lizzie had acted along, laughing at Vines’s efforts at humour. She had even appeared to be flattered.
‘Cheers,’ Vines said, lifting up his mug.
‘You’re not from this world, are you, Vines?’
‘Maybe not, but I can see its earthy appeals,’ Vines said, making a point of winking at Pyke.
‘In a place like this, you so much as look at someone else’s woman, you’re a dead man.’
The colour drained from Vines’s face. He glanced across at Lizzie and then around the room, to see whether anyone had noticed.
‘Lizzie,’ Pyke called out.
After serving another customer, she came to join them. Pyke reached over the counter and kissed her on the mouth. It was an ugly, sloppy gesture, made worse by the fact that Lizzie bridled at his feigned attempt at intimacy, doubtless realising she was being used. Still, it elicited the reaction Pyke had wanted. Vines stared at them aghast, though Pyke didn’t know whether he was appalled by the show of affection or by what it suggested about Pyke’s choice of woman.
‘Don’t pretend this is a social visit, Vines,’ Pyke said, once Lizzie had left them. ‘What do you want?’
Vines was ambitious but stupid. Usually he had nothing but contempt for Pyke, but now he was pretending to be his friend. Pyke wondered whether Vines really believed he was taken in by his false show of bonhomie.
‘Straight to the point, eh?’ Vines looked at him with apprehension. ‘I wanted to talk to you, away from the eyes and ears of Bow Street, about Sir Richard.’
‘What about Sir Richard?’
They both took a long drink.
This time Vines whispered, ‘I’m worried about him, Pyke. I think he’s losing his mind.’ He wiped froth from his mouth with his sleeve. ‘Have you noticed the way he’s been acting of late?’
‘Acting?’ Pyke raised his eyebrows. He’d noticed Fox’s erratic behaviour but didn’t say