Read Online The Revenge of Captain Paine by Andrew Pepper - Free Book Online Page B

his hands were trembling a little. It had been a long time since he had risked official sanction in this manner.
     
‘That was bloody marvellous,’ Godfrey said, before drinking his third straight gin in a row. ‘But why didn’t someone arrest us as Bellows was demanding?’
    Pyke took a sip of beer. ‘Bellows can rant and rave but men like Pierce have long memories.’
    The glint in Godfrey’s eyes indicated he understood. ‘A warrant will be issued for our arrest, though.’
    ‘Perhaps,’ Pyke said. ‘But my guess is that, when he’s calmed down, Bellows will realise he’s lost this one. He’ll absent himself from the case, citing personal reasons. It’ll go to another court and the same process will start all over again. We caught them out this time; next time they’ll be ready for us and if you can’t produce this witness, they’ll throw everything they’ve got at you.’
    Godfrey nodded, suddenly downcast. ‘Kate Sutton was a kitchen hand who worked at Kensington Palace.’
    ‘Was?’
    ‘I made discreet enquiries about her at the palace. I was told she’d left her post for personal reasons but she didn’t leave a forwarding address.’
    ‘You don’t know where she’s gone?’
    ‘No.’>
    Pyke sat forward and rested his elbows on the table. ‘Did she approach you or did you seek her out?’
    ‘The former, m’boy. She came to me, accompanied by a noxious, money-grabbing specimen called Johnny. I presumed they were copulating. They were both clear about the money they wanted. I’d say they were well suited to one another in that respect. We must have haggled for over an hour.’
    ‘And did you give them anything?’
    His uncle clenched his jaw. ‘Fifty pounds.’ He must have seen Pyke’s face but he added, in a defensive tone, ‘It was a good story. Apparently she walked in on Conroy and the duchess. He was fucking her in the arse.’
    Pyke couldn’t help but smile. ‘I didn’t read that in the piece I saw.’
    Godfrey broke into a mischievous grin. ‘Even I have standards, dear boy.’
    ‘And you don’t have any idea where she might be now?’
    Godfrey shook his head. ‘I paid a visit to her family’s home in Spitalfields. The father pestered me for money. The mother hardly said a word.’
    ‘But they didn’t know where their daughter was?’
    His uncle shook his head and stared down at his empty glass. ‘I’m not very good at this kind of thing. Perhaps you could visit her family and ask them some questions? If they don’t know where she is, they might know of someone who does.’
    Nodding, Pyke checked his watch again. ‘You could do something for me in return.’
    ‘Anything, dear boy.’ His uncle’s smile revealed his stained, mossy teeth. ‘Within reason, of course.’
    ‘I’d like you to come with me to a meeting of radicals in the east end. Emily has been involved in setting it up.’
    ‘If I must,’ Godfrey said, with a dismissive yawn. ‘I know I publish things for the poor to read, but actually spending time in their company is not my idea of an enjoyable evening.’
     
In Emily’s position, it would have been easy to romanticise the working poor and turn them into exotic creatures waiting to be pitied and helped. In fact her view was much more complex, forged by a mixture of guilt, moral zeal and sympathy. Some middle-class charities sought to distance themselves from the people they were trying to help, finding the poor to be obnoxious, dirty, violent and blasphemous in a way they hadn’t expected or counted upon. Emily suffered no such illusions. A year earlier, while organising an event at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden in aid of the Spitalfield weavers, she’d travelled to the East End, where her carriage had been attacked. Two rampsmen robbed her of her rings and forced her to strip naked. No one had come to her rescue, doubtless enjoying the sight of a wealthy woman receiving her comeuppance at the hands of two ruffians. Later, after