Execution Dock (27 page)

They declined a cup of tea, not wishing to put them to trouble, and Mr. Cordwainer escorted them to the door. When they reached it and Scuff and Stella were already outside, he put his hand on Hester's arm and held her back.

“You'll not find Mary,” he said very softly. He looked acutely unhappy. “It's a long story. Carelessness a bit, lonely, wanting to please, and maybe a bit too trusting, but not fault, not really.”

Hester was lost again. “What are you talking about?” She found that she was whispering in turn.

“Mary,” he replied. “She's in prison. My mother kept up with her, for the boy's sake. Then when she got old, I kind of took her place.”

“Which prison is she in?” Hester felt the knot of pain tighten inside her. No wonder Durban had not found her. Or had he? And the end of his search was tragedy? How that must have hurt him. Was that how she was connected to Jericho Phillips? Suddenly she wished with a passion that she had not asked Mrs. Myers, or old Mrs. Cordwainer. It was too late now.

“Holloway,” he replied. He was watching her, seeing the hurt and the disillusion in her face. “She's not a bad woman,” he said gently. “She married a chandler named Fishburn. He was killed when a dray came loose and crushed him. Left her the house, but not much else. She sold it and bought another one miles away, in Deptford. Turned it into a lodging house. Called herself Myers, to get away from Fish-burn's debts. Seems he'd been a bit of a gambler.” He sighed. “One of her lodgers was a thief. She didn't know it, but when he slipped, she got caught with the things he'd taken. She'd kept them against his rent, but the police wouldn't believe that. She got six months for it, and lost the house, of course.”

“I'm sorry.” She meant it. “What'll happen to her when she gets out?”

The sadness in his expression answered her.

“Maybe I can find a job for her,” she said before thinking what it would involve. She might not like her. She had only Cordwainer's word that she was not really a thief or a receiver.

He smiled, and nodded slowly.

Stella and Scuff were waiting. She thanked Cordwainer again, and followed after them.

Back in the hospital she thanked Stella, who looked at her anxiously, and reminded her of her promise. Hester assured her that she had not forgotten, and took her leave.

But as she approached the main door out she encountered Mrs. Myers again. She hoped profoundly that she was not going to have to lie to her, but she was perfectly prepared to if necessary. She had given Stella her word not to disclose anything of her romance. However, she had been gone so long she could not pretend not to have seen old Mrs. Cordwainer. She was also acutely aware of Scuff at her elbow, and his opinion of her honesty, which she found mattered to her even more than she had expected it would.

Mrs. Myers smiled. “Did Stella take you to see old Mrs. Cordwainer after all?” she asked.

“I prevailed upon her,” Hester replied, thinking how she could word her reply so that it would sound as if the old lady had given her all the information, and not even suggest that Mr. Cordwainer had been present at all. Nothing clever came to her. She was left with simply lying. It would have been so much easier had Scuff not been there.

Mrs. Myers nodded. “I don't imagine it was difficult.”

Hester said nothing. It was more uncomfortable than she had expected.

“Was she able to help?” Mrs. Myers asked.

Another lie. But it was either that, or admit that he had been there. The lie was the better of the two evils. “Yes, thank you. I now have a better idea at last where to look.”

“I don't mind, you know,” Mrs. Myers said gently.

“I beg your pardon?” Now Hester was at a loss and knew she must look foolish.

“I think John Cordwainer is a very decent man, and exactly right for Stella,” Mrs. Myers said frankly. “I just wish she would stop assuming I disapprove, and accept him. She is quite old enough not to mind what I think. She owes me no more than to make the very best of her life.”

Hester felt a great weight slip from her, and found herself smiling idiotically. “Really?” she said with feigned innocence, as if she had no idea what they were talking about.

“Your smile gives you away,” Mrs. Myers said drily. “But I am glad you kept your word. Although if you hadn't, it would make it easier for me to broach the subject. How on earth do I say something, without letting her know I have intruded on her privacy?”

Hester thanked her again for her help, and went down the steps, smiling even more widely.

Of course it was not so easy to gain admittance to Holloway Prison, or permission to see any particular person held there. Her first instinct was to ask Monk to obtain it for her, then she bit the words back and grasped for something else to say. Her whole purpose was to protect him.

She asked instead what he expected to do the following day, and when he told her, she chose a time when he would be alone, away from the Wapping Station, in which to go there and see if she could speak with Orme. She could explain to him exactly what she wanted, and he would understand why.

Orme chose to go with her and ask permission on the spot. It might have been out of kindness to her, but she felt that his own curiosity was also urgent. And perhaps he wanted to meet the only sister of a man he had known, respected, and cared for for a great deal of his adult life.

It was this last that troubled Hester. She did not know how to say to him that she preferred to see Mary alone, and his presence might inhibit her from being open. Also, as deeply felt, if not as important to the case, she was afraid that it would be an emotionally distressing experience for him. She had seen his face when they had uncovered facts about Durban that were ugly, that threw doubt on his honesty, his morality, even the kindness that had long been part of his character. Orme had tried desperately to hide such unpleasantness, to drown it out with loyalty, but it was there, growing slowly.

She turned to face him in the bleak stone corridor.

“Thank you, Mr. Orme. I could not have done this without you, but I need now, at least the first time, to speak with her alone. You knew Mr. Durban for years. Far better than she ever did. Think how she will feel. She may care too much what you think of her to be frank. We need the truth.” She said that firmly, emphasizing the last word, holding his gaze. “If we lose this chance, there will not be another. Please let me speak to her alone the first time.”

He gave a funny, lopsided little smile. “Are you protecting me too, ma'am?”

She realized that perhaps she had been. Would he be pleased, or offended? She had no idea. The truth had at least the advantage of easing her conscience. “I'm sorry,” she admitted. “I suppose I was.”

He blinked very faintly; she could barely see it in the flat light, but she knew he was not displeased.

She was shown into a plain cell with a wooden table and two chairs, and a moment later the wardress brought in a woman in her middle fifties. She was of average height and a little gaunt in the face, causing Hester to look a second time before realizing that she was handsome beneath the pallor and the fear, and her eyes were golden brown, just as Durban's had been.

She sat down when Hester invited her to, but slowly, stiff with anxiety.

Hester sat also, as the wardress said she would be immediately outside the door, if she were needed, and they had thirty minutes. Then she left.

Hester smiled, wishing she knew of a way to ease the woman's fear without at the same time jeopardizing her mission.

“My name is Hester Monk,” she began. “My husband is now head of the Thames River Police at Wapping, the position your brother held.” Then suddenly she wondered if Mary knew of his death. Had she been incredibly clumsy? How long was it since she and Durban had met? What were the emotions between them?

Mary moved her head minutely, less than a nod.

It was time to stop prevaricating. She lowered her voice. “Did anyone tell you that he died, heroically, at the turn of last year? He gave his life to save the lives of many others.” She waited, watching.

Mary Webber nodded, and her eyes filled with tears, running unchecked down her thin cheeks.

Hester took her handkerchief out of her small purse and placed it on the table where Mary could take it. “I'm sorry. I wish I did not have to bring this up. He was looking for you, frantically, but as far as I know he didn't find you. Did he?”

Mary shook her head. She reached out to the white cotton handkerchief, then hesitated. It was dazzlingly clean compared with her gray prison sleeve.

“Please…” Hester urged.

Mary picked it up and pressed it to her cheek. It was faintly perfumed, but such a thing may have been far from her mind now.

Hester continued, mindful of the minutes ticking into oblivion. “Mr. Durban was a hero to his men, but there are other people now who are trying to destroy the River Police, and they are blackening his name to do it. I already know where he was born and spent the first eight years of his life. I spoke to Mrs. Myers…” She saw a smile touch Mary's lips, but dim, struggling against grief. “I know that you saved money and sent him all you could. Do you know what happened to him after he left the hospital?”

Mary blinked and wiped the tears off her cheeks. “Yes. We kept in touch for a long time.” She gulped. “Until I realized what kind of man Fishburn was.” She looked down. “After that, I was ashamed, and I kept out of my brother's way. When Fishburn was caught stealing and went to prison, I changed my name and moved away. When he died I sold the house. I didn't dare before that, in case he got out, or he had one of his friends come and find me.” Her voice was very low and she did not once look up at Hester.

Then I kept a lodging house, an’…”

“You don't need to tell me,” Hester stopped her. “I know how you came to be here. I imagine that was why your brother couldn't find you.”

Mary looked up. “I didn't want him to know I was here. I s'pose the few people that knew me lied to him to cover it up. They'd have known how I didn't want him even to… to know I'd come to this. He used to look up to me… when he was little. We…” she looked down again. “We were close then… close as you can be, when we scarce saw each other. But I never stopped thinking of him. I wish…”

Without thinking, Hester reached out and put her hand on Mary's where it lay on the rough tabletop. “I think he might have understood. He was a good man, but he knew none of us were faultless. He hated cruelty, and he wasn't above bending the law a little to stop people hurting women, or especially children. A lot of people admired him, but there were some who hated him, and a good few were scared half silly if you even said his name. Don't put him on a pedestal, Mary, or think that he put you on one.”

“Too late, now,” Mary replied with self-mockery

“It's not too late to help clear his name,” Hester said urgently. “I'll fight as hard as I can, and more important, so will my husband. But I can't do it without the truth. Please tell me what you know of him, his character, good and bad. It will spoil everything if I try to defend him from an accusation, and then make a fool of myself because it was true. After that no one would believe me, even if I were right.”

Mary nodded. “I know.” At last she met Hester's eyes, shyly, but without flinching. “He was good, in his own way, but he had things to hide. He grew up pretty rough. Had to beg and scrounge, and I shouldn't wonder if he stole a bit. The hospital had to put him out when he was eight. Had no choice. I was the lucky one. It wasn't till the Webbers lost their money that I even knew what it was like to be hungry, I mean the kind of hungry when you hurt inside, and all you can think of is food… any kind, just so you can eat it. He always knew.”

Hester cringed. She did not have to imagine it; she had seen it in too many faces. But she did not interrupt.

“He ran with some pretty rough people,” Mary went on. “I know, because he didn't hide it. But I didn't ever ostracize him. All I wanted was that he would stay alive.” She took a deep breath. “But I didn't know how bad it was, or I'd have been much more scared.”

Hester moved without thinking, her muscles knotted.

Mary nodded imperceptibly. “He had some bad friends up and down the river, mostly Linehouse, and the Isle of Dogs. A bank was robbed, and three of them were caught. They were sent up to the Coldbath Fields. One of them died there, poor creature. Only twenty-three, he was. The other two got broken in health, and one of them at least drunken out of his mind. When they got sent down was when Durban joined the River Police. I never asked him if he was in on the bank job, and he never told me. I didn't want him to think I even thought it of him, but I did. He was pretty wild, an’ a temper on him like one of those snapping eels.”

She sighed. “It was all different after that. He got a fright, and he never went back to the old ways. Reckon maybe that's what made him such a good policeman, he knew both sides of the road. You may not be able to help, or make anyone see that there was so much good in him, but I'd be grateful to you all my life if you'd try.”

Hester looked at the sad woman in front of her, broken and alone, and wished she could offer her something more than words.

“Of course I'll try, every way I can. My husband liked Durban more than anyone else he knew. I liked him myself, although we didn't meet very often. But apart from that, the reputation of the River Police depends on proving that Jericho Phillips and anyone to do with him are liars.”

“ Jericho Phillips?” Mary said quietly, her voice tight in her throat. “Is he the one doing this?”

“Yes. Do you know anything about him?”

Mary shivered and seemed to shrink further into herself. “I know better than to cross him. Does he know… who I am?”

“ Durban 's sister? No. I don't think anybody knows that.” Suddenly a great deal more was clear to Hester, the urgency with which Durban had looked for her, and yet would tell no one why, not even Orme, the fear that must have consumed him for her. If Phillips had found her before he did, it would be a threat even more vivid than to kill another of the boys. “And he won't know anything I do,” Hester added aloud. “I mean to see Phillips hang, so by the time you are out of here he will be dead, and you can start a decent life without giving him a thought. You'll have a little money, because Durban would have wanted you to. We have it safely for you. You are his only
relative
, so it has to be yours. And if you would like a job, and don't mind some hard work, I'd like to have your help in the clinic I run in Portpool Lane. At least think about it. There'd be a room for you, good work to do, and some decent friends to do it with.”