The Death of Irish Nell by Karen Charlton

Author:Karen Charlton [Charlton, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Famelton Publishing
Published: 2019-12-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Lavender was distracted and tense the next morning when he and Woods rode out of London towards Hampstead. Fog had descended on the capital and the gloom matched his mood. The pact he’d made with Betsy weighed heavily on his conscience.

Woods, however, seemed to be looking for something. His twinkling brown eyes scanned the crowds of pedestrians, the noisy hawkers and the sly beggars loitering beside the road. Suddenly he grinned, reined in sharply and dismounted.

‘Hold these a moment, sir.’ He passed his horse’s reins to Lavender and strode through the crowd towards a second-hand clothing stall belonging to a grizzled and stooped old man. The wooden trestle table before him was piled high with cracked boots, ragged clothing, cheap clay pipes and other unwanted junk.

Lavender watched with a horrified sigh as Woods purchased, for a few coins, what appeared to be a dead cat nestled between a soiled waistcoat and a pair of wooden clogs.

Woods was beaming when he returned. He tossed the grubby, moth-eaten periwig up into Lavender’s saddle. ‘There you go. We’ll call at the barbers on the way back from Hampstead to get your head shaved.’ He put his foot in the stirrup and swiftly remounted. All ready for you to carry out your side of the bargain, now, son. That’ll teach you be overly self-assured.’

Lavender grinned as he poked the disgusting item down into his pocket. ‘You may have wasted your money there, Ned. Who knows what surprises this morning may bring? And if I do manage to arrest Delamere and Clark – this will be the last time you ever call me “son”.’

‘Got something stuffed up your sleeve, have you?’ Ned’s eyes roamed to the bundled-up rope ladder Lavender had attached to the back of his saddle.

‘I want to check the bottom of that well.’ Lavender struggled to keep his tone casual. ‘There may be more evidence down there.’

‘I had a good look yesterday, sir. There’s nothin’ there.’

‘You never know,’ Lavender persisted. ‘Something may have fallen down when Delamere and Clarke pushed down Irish Nell’s body.’

Woods gave him a quizzical glance, shrugged and urged his horse into a trot as the traffic and buildings died away. The Hampstead Road began to wind its way through fields, where invisible cattle lowed for their calves.

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