GATEHOUSE COURT was hot, dusty-smelling in the summer sun. Barristers and clerks walked to and fro within the square of red brick buildings. Here there was no sign of war. I felt myself relax at the old familiar scene as I walked to my chambers. I had sent Skelly a note from Esher saying I would shortly be back, and he rose to greet me with a smile.
‘Are you well, sir?’ From the hesitation in his voice I could tell the strain of what I had been through showed on my face.
‘Well enough. And you? Your wife and children?’
‘We are all in good health, thanks be to God.’
‘Everything well here?’
‘Yes, sir. A few new cases are in, to come on in the new term.’
‘Good.’ I sighed. ‘I want to encourage some new work.’
‘We heard about the French trying to invade the Isle of Wight, the loss of the Mary Rose in front of the King himself. They’re sending another fifteen hundred men down from London – ’
‘Yes, the road to Portsmouth was busy with men and supplies on our way back.’
‘Nobody seems to know what will happen next. The ship Hedgehog blew up in the Thames the same day the Mary Rose sank; some say she was blown up by French spies, though others blame the stock of gunpowder she carried not being supervised properly – ’
‘I would guess that is more likely. Were many killed?’
‘A good many. Sir, are you all right?’ He darted forward as I grasped at a corner of a table, for the floor had seemed to shift beneath my feet.
‘Tired, that is all. It has been a long journey. Now, are those new papers in my office? I should look at them.’
‘Sir – ’ Skelly asked.
I answered impatiently, ‘Yes?’
‘How is Jack? Is there any news of his wife? I think his baby is due soon.’
I smiled. ‘Jack is well, Tamasin too I believe. I left him going to her.’
I went into my office, shut the door, and leaned against it. Sweating, I waited for the feeling that the ground was moving to stop.
I LOOKED OVER the new papers, then turned my mind to the subject of Coldiron and Josephine. I was still considering how to tackle him when there was a knock at the door. Skelly came in and closed it.
‘Sir, there’s a young man to see you. He called two days ago, asking for you. He says he knows you from a place called Hoyland. Though he—’
I sat bolt upright. ‘Show him in,’ I said, trying to keep the excitement and relief from my voice. ‘Now.’
I sat behind my desk, my heart beating fast. But it was not Emma that Skelly ushered in, it was Sam Feaveryear. He stood before me, brushing a lock of greasy hair from his forehead in that familiar gesture. I fought down my disappointment.
‘Well, Feaveryear,’ I said heavily, ‘have you brought a message from your master?’
He hesitated, then said, ‘No, sir. I have decided – I will work for Master Dyrick no more.’
I raised my eyebrows. Feaveryear said, in a sudden rush of words, ‘I did wrong, sir. I found something out at Hoyland. I let Master Dyrick send me away, but I should have told you. It has been on my conscience ever since. Hugh was really—’
‘I know already. Emma Curteys.’
Feaveryear took a deep breath. ‘When I met Hugh there was something – something that attracted me to him.’ He began twisting his thin hands together. ‘I thought – I thought the devil was tempting me to a great sin. I prayed for guidance, but I could not stop how I felt. He did not like me looking at him, but I could not help myself. Then one day, I realized—’
‘And told Dyrick.’
‘I thought he would do something for – for the girl. But he said the matter was his client’s secret and must be protected, and sent me away. I thought, I prayed, and I realized – it cannot be right, sir, what has happened to her.’
I spoke sharply. ‘The family made her impersonate her dead brother for years, for gain. Now she has run away, and nobody knows where she is.’
‘Oh, sir.’ He gulped. ‘May I sit down?’
I waved him to a stool. He collapsed onto it, the picture of misery.
‘Do you know,’ I asked, ‘what happened to Abigail Hobbey?’
‘Yes,’ he replied in a small voice. ‘My master wrote. He said the man Ettis had been arrested for her murder.’
‘He has been released. It was not him.’ I leaned forward and said angrily, ‘Why did you not tell anyone about Hugh?’
‘I could not be disloyal to my master. But I have been thinking and praying, and when Master Dyrick wrote saying he was returning tomorrow I realized – ’ Feaveryear looked at me with pleading intensity. ‘He is not a good man, is he?’
I shrugged.
‘I – I wonder, sir, whether perhaps I could come and work for you. You are known as a good lawyer, sir, a champion of the poor.’