From the Charred Remains (21 page)

“But you’ve always said—” Lach began, before being cut off by the printer.

“Normally, I would agree with you, Lach. But since the Fire, many people have set up camp there. Not just vagrants. People with money. ’Sides, they might like a fair story. Raise their spirits.” Master Aubrey looked doubtfully at Lucy. “You think you can handle it, lass? At the first sign of trouble, run. I can’t have my apprentices torn to shreds by an angry mob. Besides, Master Hargrave might be a bit put out should I let anything happen to you.”

Lucy shivered, thinking again of the man who had attacked her. Not for the first time, she wondered what she was getting herself into. Yet she felt determined to see this through. “I’ll be fine,” she said, mustering a bravery she did not feel.

On the way out, Lucy waved airily to Lach, as he painstakingly began to set the type for Culpeper’s herbals.

*   *   *

As she approached St. Martin-in-the-Fields, Lucy felt her earlier confidence begin to fade. Along the way, she’d passed the bellman and handed him a note that she’d hastily scrawled to the constable. She hoped the man would take it to Duncan in a timely way. “Can you meet me at St. Martin-in-the-Fields? L.C.” She hadn’t wanted to write much more. She squirmed under the bellman’s cheerful scrutiny. Nice young ladies do not send notes to constables. Nice young ladies do not walk around unaccompanied. For that matter, nice young ladies don’t involve themselves in murder investigations.

At St. Martin-in-the-Fields there were people everywhere, many in makeshift camps, many looking a bit helpless and sick. They reminded Lucy of the gypsies she’d known, yet without the gypsies’ cheer or organization. Before long, she spotted Avery, standing helpfully by the pillars of the great stone church. His eyes brightened when he saw her.

“I’ve got to do a bit of selling first,” she explained, indicating her bulging pack of penny pieces. “Did you find Sid?”

Avery nodded, and pointed to a crowd that had gathered. Sid, it appeared, had picked up a new skill, doing conjuring tricks for a rapt audience. “Is the man who attacked me still around?”

Avery nodded. “He’s on the other side of the church. Sid can see him.”

Lucy climbed up on the stone steps so that she could easily be seen. She glanced through the titles that Master Aubrey had packed for her. A few murders—she’d save those for last. Another broadside caught her eye. “Gentle ladies, gentlemen, I give you the ballad of the good maid Marian, and that stouthearted highwayman, Robin Hood of Locksley.” Taking a deep breath, Lucy began to sing. “A bonny fine maid of a noble degree, with a hey down down a down down.”

A little crowd began to gather, and Lucy continued the ballad, describing how the Earl of Huntington and Marian fell in love, until “separated by fortune.” When she got to the part where the two met again, the maid “strangely attired,” and Robin Hood “himself disguised,” and they fell to blows because they did not recognize each other, Lucy had the crowd leaning on every word. “They lived by their hands, without any lands, And so they did many a day, day.” She stumbled over the last lines, having looked up to see Duncan watching her from the back of the crowd. She was pleased he’d come, but she could not discern the constable’s expression.

Lucy spent the next few moments passing out sheets, and collecting pence. As Master Aubrey had assumed, this was a good place to sell. When she was done, she ducked behind the stone wall and tucked the coins inside her inner pocket, hidden beneath her skirts.

“Ho there, Lucy,” Avery said, saying her name in that special way of his, as if they had not just been speaking together a little while before. “Avery found the constable.”

“What is going on, Lucy?” Duncan asked, keeping his body partially turned so that he could keep an eye on the crowd. “I got your note. I can’t say I understood it.”

“Well, it’s a queer thing, actually,” Lucy said, flicking a bit of mud from her sleeve. “Yesterday, Avery saw a man following me when I was selling broadsides at Tyburn. He didn’t see the man attack me but, thanks be to God, he sent Sid after him.” She finished in a rush. “So Sid knows where the man went. We just need to find Sid.” She hesitated. “Duncan?”

Duncan was staring at her, his attention no longer divided. “Wait a minute. Slow down. Tell me from the beginning, and don’t skip anything important.”

Lucy related the story again. When she told him about the man setting upon her, she could see his jaw tighten. “I conked him over the head though,” Lucy added hastily. She thought it best to omit the detail where she thought she’d killed the man. The constable might not take that fact well.

“So he told you he wanted the ring and the brooch back, because they belonged to him?”

Lucy nodded. She then proceeded to fill him in on what she had learned from Lord Cumberland the night before. “I think this man may also have set upon the Earl.” Out of the corner of her eye she could see Sid gesturing impatiently to her. “Uh, I think Sid wants to talk to
me.
” She stressed the word “me” ever so slightly, hoping he would get the hint.

He did. “I suppose he doesn’t want to talk to a constable.” He clipped his feet together, military style. “I’ll wait over here. And Lucy—”

“Yes?”

“Make sure Mister Petry doesn’t do any picking while I’m watching, alright?”

“I’ll do what I can,” she said, walking over to Sid, who was now talking to a perfume-seller. The woman’s pocket was hanging a bit heavy at her side, not tucked away as it should have been. An easy mark.

“Hey there, Sid,” she said. “Planning on buying some perfumes?”

He grinned, not looking at all chagrined. “Lucy!” he said, moving away from the perfume stall. Only a quick flick of his eyes toward the woman’s purse betrayed his thoughts. “No one after you today?”

“It seems not,” she said. “Listen. Where’s the man who followed me yesterday? We need to ask him some questions.”

“‘We?’ Is Annie here?” Sid rubbed his light brown whiskers. “Oh. You meant the constable.” He looked disappointed.

“Sid,” Lucy said firmly, drawing his arm in hers. She started to walk him toward the constable. “Constable Duncan isn’t concerned—at this moment—about your goings-on. I need you to tell him everything about that man you followed yesterday.”

“I’ll point him out.” Sid grimaced. “You know, he’s a funny sort.”

“How do you mean?”

“He didn’t come here straightaway,” Sid explained. “I followed him to The Sparrow. You know, the inn down by the docks.”

Lucy shrugged. She’d not spent too much time in that area along the Thames, as she’d heard that sailors were a rough-and-tumble lot. “Do you think he’s staying there?”

“I thought so. He didn’t go in though.”

“No?” Lucy asked. “What did he do?” She waited for Sid to respond, but his eyes had slid over a buxom young woman carrying a large straw basket on her head. She pinched his forearm to reclaim his attention.

“Ow!” he cried, rubbing his arm. “That hurt!”

“Where did the man go?”

“That’s the odd part. First, he hid behind a bush. Which meant I had to hide too, so
he
wouldn’t see
me
watching him.”

“That is odd,” Lucy said, trying to imagine the scene. “Then what happened?”

“He was watching the door of the inn, as far as I could tell. I was about to leave when a man came out of the inn. Gentry, you know? So our man followed the chap.” Sid pushed his gray cap back. “He followed him straight to the magistrate’s house, if you can believe
that
!”

“To the magistrate’s house?” Lucy exchanged a glance with Duncan, who’d been listening intently. “Was the gentleman the Earl of Cumberland?”

“Dunno,” Sid grinned. “Don’t know no earls.”

After Lucy quickly described the Earl, Sid shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah. That sounds like him. I saw a woman waiting for him a few houses down the way. Fancy-like, but not gentry, you know what I mean? She looked like she knew the Earl quite well. Plopped a kiss right on his cheek. Earl’s ladybird, if I had to guess.”

“No, I think that was the Earl’s wife, Lady Cumberland,” Lucy said slowly. It surprised her that the pair had arrived to the magistrate’s home separately, and that neither had arrived in a carriage.

“You don’t say?” Sid smirked. “She smelled of trade, that one did. I can always spot one of our own. They did go in together, that’s true enough.”

Duncan interrupted them then. “Did the man say anything to the Earl, before he went inside?”

“As a matter of fact, he did.” Sid looked at them expectantly. “I’ll tell you, for a small price.”

Seeing the constable’s jaw clench, Lucy jumped in. “The constable’s not going to pay you for your information, Sid,” she said. “You need to tell him everything.”

Sid frowned. “The man started shouting at the Earl. He said, ‘Get them back for me!’ Then he pitched a few rocks at them before they made it inside.”

“‘Get them back for me’?” Lucy repeated. “You’re sure that’s what the man said?” At Sid’s nod, she asked, “Well, what happened next?”

“Our fellow stayed outside, watching the magistrate’s door.” Sid put his fist in his other hand. “I didn’t like him hanging about, no siree. I thought he might have scared Annie. So I tore into him. Made like someone escaped from Bedlam, I did. Came at him, mad-like.” Sid smacked his lips. “Then, I followed him here.”

“And he’s still here?” Lucy asked, looking at the sprawl of humanity made homeless by the Fire. “He didn’t leave?”

“Naw, he’s still here. Last night, I could tell he was settling down, like everyone else here. I went over to Aubrey’s shop. Told Avery where he was, I did. And then I came back. As good as any place to rest my head.”

“So where is he?” the constable said.

Sid’s eyes had turned calculating again. “What’s in it for me? After all, I spent a day and night following this man. Time I could have spent earning some coins.”

“You’ll tell me now.” Duncan’s tone brooked no nonsense. “As a good law-abiding citizen.”

Sid clammed up, his features taking a sullen look. “Don’t have to.”

This was getting them nowhere. Lucy decided to intervene. “What a clever lad you’ve been,” she said to Sid. “Following that man to the Sparrow, following him to the magistrate’s home, following him here. You’ve been ever so helpful. I’m sure Constable Duncan appreciates your help. He might even put in a good word for you, if you find yourself in a scrape.” She looked meaningfully at Duncan.

“Of course,” Duncan said, through clenched teeth. “Now out with it.”

For a moment Sid was silent. Resentment and the grudging wish for appreciation seemed to battle across his features. Lucy thought he might not answer the constable at all. Finally he spoke. “Over there,” he said, pointing to a small crowd of men sitting on a low stone wall. They were huddled around a small fire. “The one on the end.” He looked back at Lucy. “And I ain’t no ‘lad.’”

Peering at the men, Lucy tugged Duncan’s sleeve. “I see him. It’s him, I know it.”

Duncan nodded. “Stay here.” He walked over, Lucy on his heels, despite his order to the contrary. Looking down at the man, he said, “I’ll have a word with you.”

The man looked up, wary. He still bore a mark, now a great purpling bruise, across his face where Lucy had struck him with the branch the day before. Recognizing Lucy, the man looked startled. He made as if to run away, but Sid had already grabbed him from behind. A few of the other men who’d been sitting near him edged away, although a few continued to look on vaguely, seeming to welcome the break in the monotony.

“Going somewhere, soldier?” Duncan asked. “Not before you answer some of my questions.”

Shaking free from Sid, the man slumped back on the wall, not making eye contact. Lucy wondered how Duncan had known he was a soldier. On closer inspection, though, she could see that the man bore the common wound found among many former soldiers. Injuries to the right forefinger and thumb, usually having been broken when muskets backfired during battle. She guessed this was what had happened to Avery, although he had lost his finger and his thumb outright.

Seeming resigned, the man looked at them. “What, Constable? What do you want to know?”

“Who are you?” Duncan demanded. “Tell me immediately, or I’ll have you hauled off to jail for assault.”

“Assault?” the man asked, but with little surprise in his voice. “I just wanted what’s mine.”

“You attacked me!” Lucy said angrily. “I could have been killed!”

“You did all right for yourself,” the man muttered, rubbing the bruise on his head. “’Sides, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I told you that already.”

Duncan gave her a pained look. “Lucy, please.” He looked sternly at the man. “Speak. What was your business with this woman?”

The man sighed. “My name is Ashton Hendricks.” He jerked his head at Lucy. “I didn’t mean to hurt her, but the brooch she was holding belongs to me. Same as the ring. I know she has that too.”

“Well, that’s a little hard to prove,” Duncan said. “We have it on good authority that those items belong to Lord Cumberland. Not to you.”

Hendricks’s face first mottled, then paled. “To Lord Cumberland!” He spat. “My arse!” He then proceeded to let loose a string of profanities that shocked Lucy more than she liked to let on. Although some of it she couldn’t even understand, giving his thick accent.

“Alright. Stop that!” Duncan said, holding up his hand. “You’ve admitted already that you attacked this woman yesterday. For that alone, you’re off to jail.” He pulled a whistle from under his shirt, and made as if to blow for a nearby bellman.

“No, please!” Hendricks said. He turned haggard eyes toward Lucy. “Please, miss. I humbly beg your forgiveness. I never meant to hurt you. I just needed to talk to you!”

“By dragging her into the trees?” Duncan said. “Scaring her half to death?”

“Miss, I truly am sorry,” Hendricks said. “I have—had—a daughter myself. About your same age, she was. I’d have near killed any man who dared lay a hand on her.”

Behind her, she could hear Sid snort. Duncan made a similarly dismissive sound. Lucy laid a hand on the constable’s arm. Something about the man seemed so pitiful. Besides, it seemed important to hear what he had to say.