The Masters of Bow Street (30 page)

James thought in alarm: Then what of Mary? He glanced towards her, but her eyes were cast down at her sewing.

Sebastian Smith was saying, ‘The truth is that absolutely everything has changed and there are times when I am very bitter. Have you ever known me to turn away the poor? These days I have to, and I put a hard face on it until I grow hard of heart. I never knew your stepfather refuse to help, lad, but Henry Fielding, good though his heart is, hasn’t the money.’ He paused a moment, while James looked at him in silence, then banged a clenched fist on the table. ‘What happens, James? The law leaves its handling to parish officers and vestrymen who hoard as much as they can to stuff themselves and their cronies with a great feast at Christmas and at Easter. Why, ’tis wickedness itself. In John Furnival’s day ‘twas not so noticeable about here but it was terrible in other parts of London and the nearer towns. How is he, d’you say? Is there any hope of his coming back?’

James had a swift mental picture of the huge figure in his special chair that he could propel for short distances himself by means of cogwheels, but always he had to be helped in and out of the chair for the closet or the bedroom.

James shook his head slowly.

Footsteps sounded in the alley and as Sebastian Smith rose resignedly, as if knowing that they would be those of yet more destitute people coming for help, James rose with him. ‘Stay, lad, ‘tis none of your affair,’ Smith said.

‘At least let me give you this to help them.’ James had two half guineas and some pennies in his purse and he shook them onto the palm of his hand.

With great care Smith took all but two of the pennies but did not touch the gold pieces. As he left the room James moved closer to Mary and he raised his voice a little over a banging door to ask, ‘Mary, what are you going to do?’

‘I propose to secure for myself a post as housekeeper,’ Mary replied promptly.

‘Is it all settled?’ he demanded.

‘Yes, I think so. My father has yet to give his final approval but there is little choice. The family is a respectable one and there are five young children. No doubt the work will be hard, but’ - she smiled - ‘I am used to hard work.’

Voices sounded from along the hall; then the door closed and Sebastian Smith’s footsteps drew near again. He called, ‘I’ll be back very soon. Don’t run away, Jamey!’ There was a hint of the old spirit in his voice as he hurried towards the rear of the house.

‘Do I know the family you are to serve?’ James asked.

‘I think it most unlikely,’ Mary replied. ‘They are by name Weygalls, Paul and Mathilda Weygalls. Mr. Weygalls is a merchant in Covent Garden. At one time he worked for Ebenezer Morgan but he was affluent enough to begin a business of his own. He is not only a grocer but an apothecary, and he also supplies surgical instruments to doctors.’ She stretched out her left hand, and when James gripped it she said, ‘Don’t look so forlorn, Jamey. I shall be well cared for and content.’

‘I feel as if I’ve found a jewel only to lose it,’ James told her. He felt deeply distressed.

‘You are very gallant, sir!’

‘I feel as gallant as a clodhopper! Mary, can you delay a while?’

‘Not more than a day or two,’ she replied, ‘and although my father makes a great fuss of giving or withholding his approval, he must, in fact, give it. One week from today this house will be demolished - yes, as soon as that! Father can live with his friends although it will be hard for him not to have a home of his own. I cannot inflict myself on others, there being none on whom I would even wish to! And such posts as the Weygalls offer are few and far between. I might go half a year without finding another, and’ - her eyes glowed with merriment - ‘you would not have me resort to the streets, would you?’

James remembered playing with her and her brothers and sisters as a child. Now Mary looked at and accepted the world as it was, had weighed up all the alternatives and made her choice. Why did she not marry? It was on the tip of his tongue to ask but a door banged: Sebastian Smith was coming back.

James moved farther away from her and then said urgently, ‘Delay the decision, Mary. I beg you to.’

‘Should you not talk to my father, sir?’

‘You can twist your father around your finger, and well you know it!’

‘But I cannot twist James Marshall, I perceive! If it pleases you I will delay until Monday but not later than noon on that day. I will not ask why you wish the delay because I trust you not to play with my future!’

‘I need time to think,’ James said huskily. ‘I need to—’

He broke off, unable to say more because his heart was thumping so hard. He knew what had happened to him since he had stepped into this room yet could hardly believe it, and for a few moments his head whirled and a jumble of thoughts raced unbidden through his mind. He saw a different expression in Mary’s eyes, as if she caught a glimpse of the truth, and they were regarding each other in silence when Sebastian Smith came in and began to boom. How grateful the couple at the door had been, how glad he was to see Jamey again, he hoped they would meet again soon, if not in this house then in some other. He looked very tired, James thought, as he took his leave.

He was halfway along the lane leading to Long Acre, the picture of Mary’s face still vividly in his mind, when he became aware of the murmur of muted voices. Would anyone lying in wait for a victim talk so audibly? James wondered. But perhaps they had not heard him approach. He was walking on soft earth and made little sound.

He heard a man say clearly, ‘Here she comes!’

Now he could make out the shapes of four or five youths lurking in the shadow of a tall building. Across the road was light from an alley and down the alley came a girl. Reaching Long Acre, she paused, looked up and down, saw no one, and began to hurry, half running, in the direction of Morgan’s new building. On the instant, the youths leaped from their hiding place and raced after her, whooping with glee. Two of them passed her and stood in front so that she could not go in any direction.

‘No,’ she gasped in terror. ‘No!’

‘Don’t worry, little one, we won’t hurt you!’ cried one.

‘Just have a little fun,’ another called.

Two of them swooped again and, obviously with long practice, one seized the girl by the waist and whirled her upside down, so that her skirt dropped over her head. Two shoes shone in the reflected light as she kicked and struggled. But the other youths moved forward, and while one seized her right leg and one her left, another slipped his hand under her petticoats, ignoring her now muffled cries.

All this had happened so quickly that James Marshall was at first astonished, then shocked, and then furious. He moved forward to cry out, but there was a movement behind him, a hand closed over his mouth, and a vicelike arm encircled his neck. Aware of what was happening to the girl, he could now do nothing to help her until he had dealt with his captor.

Very slowly, James shifted his position.

In Germany he had met a student from whom he had learned an ancient Japanese art known as jujitsu. He knew where to grip a man’s wrist or arm, shoulder or leg, to cause great pain and also a numbness which robbed the other momentarily of his strength. James moved until he had the right grip on his assailant’s wrist, then twisted. The other gasped. Exerting little strength, James heaved him over his shoulder. The man went flying and struck a partly built wall, the thud making the youths look around.

James stooped down, picked up two bricks and hurled them at the pack, then seized the fallen man’s staff. As he rushed forward, the youths fled along Long Acre, one of them limping where a brick had caught him on the knee. The girl was in a huddled heap, her skirt and petticoats still tumbled over her head. He could hear her sobbing as he pulled her clothes about her more tidily until her tear-stained face appeared. She could be no more than fourteen or fifteen, and in spite of the tears she was pretty, her fair hair in long ringlets.

‘Thank you, oh, thank you!’ she managed to say, obviously wanting to get up. ‘Thank you a hundred times, sir. I - I beg you to say nothing of this to anyone. If it were known that I had been attacked by the New Mohocks I would live in shame; no one would believe I was not raped.’ She began to pull herself free of his hand as the words spilled out. ‘I shall be safe now. I have only to go a short distance along the street. I do beg of you, say nothing.’

She turned from him and ran.

James stood watching, baffled because for all she knew the gang that had attacked her could be waiting in some doorway or alley, but when she reached the archway between the Morgan shops she turned down it and disappeared. Did she lodge nearby? he wondered.

He was sweating freely and had no heart for another encounter but he thought of the man who had attacked him and whom he had thrown so heavily. Was he still on the ground or had he also taken flight?

The fellow was standing by the wall and he moved as James began to cross the street, but he limped badly. James judged that he was a much bigger man than the striplings who had tormented the girl. Holding the man’s pole firmly in his hand, he went towards him.

‘If I had my way—’ he began, and was going on to add that he would strip the watchman of his job when, with savage certainty, he realised that this was Tom Harris.
Tom
had tried to prevent him from rushing to the girl’s assistance;
Tom
had lurked in wait for him, would have allowed the young brutes to have their way with the child. James could hardly get the words out when he said, ‘Tom, if I didn’t know it was you I would never have believed this, but I cannot doubt the evidence of my eyes.’

‘No,’ Tom muttered, ‘no one would expect you to.’

Questions rushed one after the other into James’s mind but he did not voice them; at heart he was afraid of hearing the answers. Just as he felt exhilarated only a few minutes ago, with Mary’s face thrusting everything else from his mind’s eye, now he felt a heavy weight of near misery.

Tom said gruffly, ‘I wanted to prevent you from interfering, Jamey. I was afraid of what they would do to you if you attacked them. At least two carry knives, and I did not want you hurt.’

‘Obviously it did not matter what happened to the girl,’ James replied bitterly.

‘Oh, it mattered. Such things have scored my heart a dozen times, but the situation in London has become worse and worse. These New Mohocks are as bad as the first of their breed. After dark no woman or girl is free from the risk of being molested.’

‘I’ve known the time when you would have cracked their skulls.’

‘Aye,’ Harris agreed, ‘and no doubt I should have, but I know two of them are sons of Ebenezer Morgan, and I work for Morgan. Without the pittance he pays me I would be one of the poor wretches who go begging to the Reverend Smith and often come away empty-handed, since how can a man who has nothing give anything?’ When James did not respond Harris went on: ‘I did not save much money when I worked at Bow Street; I was never much for blood money. When Henry Fielding told me I could not stay with him, I had less than enough in my stocking to live for a year. I tried to get work, but no one would employ one of John Furnival’s men except as a Charlie. That’s the truth, Jamey. I am ashamed of what happened tonight and of what I have become but’ - he drew a deep, hoarse breath - ‘’tis better than living the life of a pauper, in and out of the workhouses.’

James said huskily, ‘I am more sorry than I can say, Tom.’

‘Yes, you would be.’

‘But,’ James’s voice rose in protest at believing all that he had heard, ‘couldn’t Fielding keep you at Bow Street? Or one of the other courts? It is a crime to throw away a man of your experience!’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Tom dissented. ‘I am too old for the work that has to be done, and both Fieldings are doing the best they can on very little money. I’ve a friend at Bow Street; do you remember David Winfrith?’ James had a quick mental image of an overeager young man who had acted as a messenger between the court and the private quarters at the Bow Street house. ‘He is still there and he tells me what goes on. There are times when David is so like Silas Moffat that I swear Silas must have sired a son no one dreamed about, unless John Furnival knew and gave him the post as clerk. If you want to know what is happening, talk to him. You’ll find him in the Chapter Coffee House in Paternoster Row each morning after court. He gives the newspapers tidbits of information about cases important enough to warrant, their having a man at a hearing.’

‘You mean Fielding admits the
press?’
James exclaimed. ‘Not officially - but the newspapers have their paid men present very often,’ Harris said. At last he stirred, putting his leg on the ground gingerly, then taking a few paces.

James went with him, troubled and confused, and as they reached Long Acre he asked, ‘These New Mohocks, Tom. Is no one safe?’

‘No one fool enough to venture out alone after dark. They’re not the same breed as footpads and highwaymen; they do what they do for excitement and enjoyment.’

‘Would Mary Smith be safe?’

‘No one is safe, Jamey. Mary would not risk venturing out alone, mind you.’

But Mary would soon be working for the merchant Weygalls, thought James, and living in this same area where the young Morgans and their cronies conducted a reign of terror over the local women. And in the meantime, what would happen in an emergency, for instance, if Mary had to fetch a doctor for her father?

James shivered.

Suddenly Tom said, ‘Hush!’

Soon James became aware of voices and footsteps and marvelled at the sharpness of the older man’s ears. Presumably the group that had attacked the girl had entered Long Acre from a nearby alley, and at the same moment a stench as from an open sewer assaulted James’s nostrils, carried on the wind. Would the New Mohocks have opened a cesspit or a closed sewer? Or could they—

Tom Harris made a funny little noise and James realised that he was stifling a laugh. Then he saw two of the youths go ahead of the others into the Morgan archway; the flickering light showed that their clothes were matted close to their bodies. The other three kept well to the windward of them as they all disappeared, and now Harris laughed aloud, how-beit keeping the sound low.