One Snowy Night (22 page)

Rebecca was
reading in the drawing-room on the afternoon of the ball when Louisa came in
looking flustered. ‘Oh, my dear, it is too vexing,’ she said. ‘I have broken my
fan. I don’t know how it happened. I simply opened it to see if it would go
with my new gown, and it snapped in my hand.’

‘Never mind,’
said Rebecca. ‘It’s still early. We can go and choose another one. Something
that will go with your gown.’ She closed her book and set it down.

‘It is a nice
idea, but my legs are feeling a little stiff, and I fear if I go out this
afternoon I may not be able to dance this evening.’

Rebecca
understood at once why Louisa was so concerned. Edward had claimed Louisa’s
hand for the first dance, and that dear lady had spent all week looking forward
to it.

‘Then I can go
on my own,’ Rebecca said.

‘Oh, no, my
dear, you mustn’t think of it. You will be wanting to get ready yourself soon.’

‘Not for
another couple of hours at least,’ said Rebecca. ‘What kind of fan would you
like? A lace one would go well with your dress, I think. Or would you like a
painted fan? Or maybe one made out of ostrich feathers?’

‘Oh, no!
Ostrich feathers would be far too flamboyant! A lace fan would be perfect, it
would match the lace trim on my sleeves,’ said Louisa. ‘But of course it is not
important. I can do very well without.’

‘I would like
a breath of fresh air,’ said Rebecca, standing up and stretching. ‘I have not
been out all day. An hour’s shopping will help blow the cobwebs away. I can
still be back in plenty of time to dress.’

She had soon
donned her outdoor clothes and then she summoned the carriage and was on her
way. Accompanied by one of the new, protective footmen she set out for
Deansgate, where she meant to purchase the perfect fan to go with Louisa’s new
gown. There were several shops that sold fashionable items, and she spent a
pleasant half-hour browsing in them before selecting a delicate lace fan with
ivory sticks.

Feeling
pleased with her purchase she returned to the carriage and made herself
comfortable for the short journey home. Or at least, it should have been a
short journey, but the streets were busy, and to make matters worse a cart had
overturned ahead of her, shedding its load of vegetables all over the road.
Urchins, drawn by the calamity, were stuffing their pockets with potatoes and
carrots, whilst the carter was trying to alternately pick up the produce and
shoo them away.

Rebecca
watched the scene for a few minutes and then her attention began to wander. As
her eyes drifted away from the main thoroughfare and down the narrow streets
that led away from it she found herself wondering again about the poor housing
that lay behind the fashionable areas. She was determined to provide suitable
housing for the workers at Marsden mill, and wondered whether any of the
run-down buildings she could just glimpse might be suitable for renovation.

As her eyes
began to adjust to the gloomier conditions that prevailed beyond the main
street she began to make out more detail: houses, pavements - and then
something caught her attention and she sat up straight. There! Loping down the
dingy back street was the man who had daubed the Luddite slogan on the wall of
the mill!

There could be
no mistake.

Deciding
quickly on a course of action, she opened the carriage door and jumped out,
calling to the footman as she did so, ‘Follow me!’

Once free of
the carriage she hurried down the narrow street, following the man with the
loping gait. He turned down a cross street and Rebecca followed. The street was
narrow, and when he turned again it was into an even narrower one.

The houses
crowded in on her but Rebecca did not give up. If she could apprehend the man
she could discover why he had painted the slogan on the wall. And if he had
been paid to do it, she could discover who had paid him.

She saw him
hesitate outside a mean house and then he went in. She turned round to signal
to the footman, only to find he was not there.

He had been
following her when she left the carriage, she had made certain of it, but now
he was nowhere in sight. He must have lost her after one of her many twists and
turns.

She crept
closer to the house, pressing herself against the wall next to the window,
determined to learn anything she could, when suddenly the door opened again and
the furtive man came out.

‘What the ‘ell
are you doing?’ he demanded, his foxy eyes boring into her.

Lifting her
chin, she brazened it out.

‘I am looking
for the Exchange Hall,’ she said resolutely. ‘You will give me directions, if
you please.’

As she spoke
she took in details of the man’s appearance, in case she had to identify him at
some future date. He was short, only an inch or two taller than she was
herself, which put him at about five foot six. He had dark, lank hair and long
side whiskers. His eyes were small and set close together. His lips were thin
and his chin was pointed. His body, too, was thin and wiry. Though small, she
guessed he would possess a great deal of strength.

‘Lost your
way, did you?’ he sneered. ‘Looking for the Exchange ‘all?’ His tone was
menacing. ‘Pull the other one, it’s got bells on.’ Then his eyes became sharper
and he stood up straight. ‘’ere, ’aven’t I seen you somewhere before?’

‘I very much
doubt it,’ she said, giving him a quelling glance.

‘I know where
I’ve seen you before,’ he said, as realization dawned on him. ‘You were at the
mill. Thought I didn’t see you, didn’t you? Slinking back into the shadows.
Well you were wrong.’

His hand
whipped out and caught her arm. His grip was like iron and his fingers bit into
her, even through her cloak. Then, opening the door behind him he tried to drag
her into the house.

Rebecca wrested
herself free and kicked him hard on the shin before turning to run, but he
caught her arm again and said menacingly, ‘You’ll pay for that.’

He raised his
hand to her and Rebecca lifted her arm to shield herself  - and then, before
she knew what was happening, someone was standing in front of her and blocking
the man’s blow.

Joshua! But
what was he doing here?

Regardless,
she was very glad to see him.

He caught the
fist that was aiming at his head, then deflected a second blow which was aimed
at his mid-section. With a few moves he defended himself and then turned the
tables on his assailant, just as the footman ran up.

‘Where have
you been?’ demanded Joshua, glaring at the footman. ‘You were supposed to be
protecting Miss Foster. Where were you when she needed you?’

‘I lost her
—’
 began the footman.

‘Call yourself
a Runner?’ asked Joshua fiercely. ‘A blind beggar could have made a better job
of protecting her than you’ve done. What am I paying you for, man?’

‘A Bow Street
Runner?’ asked the wiry man, his small eyes darting from one to the other of
his captors.

‘That’s right,’
said Joshua. ‘A Bow Street Runner. And one who can testify to the fact you
attacked a young lady.’

‘Lady?’ sneered
the wiry man. ‘If she’s a lady, what’s she doing creeping around the back
streets of
Manchester
on her own. Doesn’t seem
very
lady
like to me.’

Joshua
tightened his grip on the man. ‘I suggest you keep a civil tongue in your head,’
he said.

‘Oh! So that’s
the way it is, is it? Sweet on ‘er, are you?’ he leered. ‘I wouldn’t mind a bit
of that myself
—’

‘Take him in
charge,’ said Joshua, ignoring the man’s taunts and pushing him towards the
footman. ‘He is guilty of attacking Miss Foster. And don’t let him get away.’

‘Oh, I won’t
let him get away,’ said the footman, looking at the wiry man with a crooked
smile. ‘I’ve got a bone or two to pick with him.’

Rebecca and
Joshua looked at the footman curiously.

‘Do you know
him?’ Joshua asked.

‘Oh, yes. He’s
known to us, is Cyril Dunn,’ said the footman.

‘’Ow do you
know my name?’ asked the man who had just been identified as Cyril Dunn.

The footman
removed his powdered wig.

Dunn’s face
fell. ‘Well, I’ll be . . . Odgers,’ he said, going white.

‘Yes, my lad.
Odgers,’ said the footman with relish. Then he turned to Joshua. ‘This cove’s
wanted for any number of things. He’ll do any amount of dirty work, so long as
he’s well paid. We’d have got to him sooner or later.’

‘It’s a pity
it wasn’t sooner,’ remarked Joshua.

The footman
looked abashed. ‘But if I’m meant to look after Dunn, who’s going to look after
Miss Foster?’ he said, in an effort to make amends for losing her earlier.

‘Miss Foster,’
said Joshua curtly, ‘is coming with me.’

Rebecca opened
her mouth to speak but in fact she would be very glad to leave the maze of
narrow streets behind. She could tell he was angry but their argument could
wait until they were somewhere more respectable.

They walked in
frosty silence, traversing the maze of dark streets and then emerging into a
more respectable area, where they arrived at an impressive residence.

‘Thank you for
your assistance,’ said Rebecca. ‘I believe I can find my own way from here.’

‘Your carriage
has gone on without you,’ he said. ‘You can wait inside. This is my house.’

‘I can’t go in
without a chaperon,’ Rebecca remarked.

‘Indeed you
can,’ he said.

She knew how
difficult it would be to find a hansom and so she preceded him into the house.

He waved away
the lackeys who would otherwise have greeted him and guided Rebecca through
into the sitting-room. It was furnished in a simple and masculine style. There
were no floral curtains or cushions scattered around. Everything was of good
quality, but plain.

‘Now, why don’t
you tell me what you were doing, putting yourself in danger like that,’ he said,
glaring at her as he closed the door.

‘Thank you,’
retorted Rebecca, annoyed by his high-handed attitude. ‘I
would
like
some refreshment. How kind of you to offer it.’

She glared right
back at him.

‘What were you
doing in the back streets of
Manchester
on your own?’ demanded Joshua, ignoring her remarks and
going straight to the heart of the matter.

‘I might well
ask you the same question,’ she returned.

‘I was looking
at a number of properties. There are some houses there for sale at a reasonable
price, and although squalid at the moment they could be made clean and
comfortable for the mill workers. I was going to tell you about them later, and
ask if you thought we should invest in them.’

‘Ah! I see,’
said Rebecca.

‘I have
answered your question, now you answer mine. You know how dangerous the back
streets are, Rebecca, you are not a fool. Even in ordinary times it is
dangerous to go too far from the main streets, and when there has already been
an unexplained attack on the mill it is madness.’

‘I didn’t go
into the back streets on my own,’ returned Rebecca. ‘I went with one of the
footmen you gave me.’

‘If that’s the
case, then how is it he wasn’t with you when I found you?’ he demanded.

‘Because he
couldn’t keep up with me. I had to leave the carriage in a hurry,’ she
explained. ‘It was stuck behind an overturned cart, and as I passed the time by
looking out of the windows I saw a man I recognized loping through the back
streets. It was the man who daubed LONG LIVE NED LUDD on the wall at the mill.’

Joshua’s
eyebrows shot up.

‘I assumed he
was just a common thug intent on stealing your reticule,’ he said. ‘But now I
begin to understand. Are you sure? You didn’t get a good look at him, and you
can only have seen him from a distance when you were in the carriage.’

‘I am. It wasn’t
his looks I recognized, but the way he moved. He has a curious loping gait, as
I told you at the time. I jumped out of the carriage in order to follow him and
called to the footman to accompany me. I looked over my shoulder to make sure
he had done so, but he must have lost me shortly afterwards. I had to keep Dunn
in sight, and it entailed making a number of quick turns.’

Joshua’s face
relaxed.

‘So you see, I
wasn’t putting myself in danger,’ explained Rebecca.

‘Of course you
were,’ said Joshua, not so easily mollified. ‘As soon as you got out of the
carriage you were in danger. And when I think of you following a man you knew
to be a criminal . . .
’
His face darkened and his eyes became turbulent.

‘How else was
I going to catch him?’ she demanded. ‘At least now we have something to go on.
As soon as we’ve questioned him
—’

‘We?’

‘You seem to
forget that I’m involved in this just as much as you are,’ she returned.