At the Dying of the Year by Chris Nickson Page B

‘That’s what I told Papa I’d do. He said I should wait, that I might change my mind by the time I’m twenty-one.’
    But she wouldn’t. He knew her well enough by now to be certain of that, and he loved her deeply enough to be grateful for it.
    â€˜I love you,’ he said quietly. They sat for a few more minutes as the darkness grew around them, then made their way back to the house on Marsh Lane.
    â€˜We were wondering where you two had been,’ Mary Nottingham said brightly, and Rob saw her glance swiftly at Emily’s clothes to make certain she was properly dressed.
    â€˜Sit down, lad,’ the Constable told him. ‘I need to talk to you before we eat.’
    Lister lowered himself on to an old joint stool. The warmth from the fire started to soak through his clothes and into his skin. ‘What is it, boss?’
    â€˜What do you know about Jeremiah Darden?’
    Rob pursed his lips and tried to recall things he’d heard. ‘Nothing, really. No more than anyone else.’
    Nottingham nodded slowly. ‘What about your father?’
    Lister let out a long breath and held his hands out to the blaze as if he wanted to cup its heat between them. ‘I’m sure he’d know chapter and verse,’ he replied. ‘Why?’
    â€˜One of Darden’s servants thinks he might be Gabriel.’
    Rob raised an eyebrow. ‘Did he think that before or after the reward was posted?’
    â€˜Before.’ The Constable waited a moment before continuing. ‘I’d like to you talk to your father and find out what he knows about Darden.’
    â€˜Boss . . .’ Rob said warily. ‘You know he might not want to speak to me.’
    â€˜He will,’ Nottingham told him with a confident smile.
    The shutters were closed at the office of the
Leeds Mercury
, no light leaking through. He knocked on the heavy door that stood to the side and heard the sound of footsteps on the stair. The servant held up a candle, eyes widening to see him.
    â€˜Mr Robert!’
    â€˜Hello, Sarah,’ he said with a smile. ‘I’ve come to see my father. Is he upstairs?’
    â€˜He is. Come on in.’
    He passed by, the smells of the house, of cooked cabbage and wax, as familiar as if he’d never left. James Lister was in the parlour, sitting before the fire in his favourite chair, a volume of Defoe page-down on his lap. He looked up as Rob entered, cocking his head questioningly.
    â€˜I’d not looked to see you here again,’ he said. There was no warmth in his words.
    â€˜Hello, Father,’ Rob said. He looked around the room. It was exactly as he remembered it, books filling the shelves along the walls, candles lighting the place.
    â€˜Given up on the lass, have you?’
    Rob shook his head. ‘I’m here on business, nothing more.’
    â€˜Oh?’ James Lister sat upright, his face suddenly alive and interested. ‘What do you need?’
    â€˜Information on Jeremiah Darden.’
    The older man rubbed his chin. ‘Why do you need to know about him?’
    Rob gave a small smile. ‘I can’t tell you, and there’s nothing you can print, Father. Just as if you were dealing with Mr Nottingham.’
    Lister chuckled. ‘You’ve a long way to go yet before you’re Constable, lad.’ He paused and narrowed his eyes. ‘Is this to do with the reward?’
    â€˜What would make you think that?’
    â€˜Timing. I take it you don’t need the common knowledge?’ He waited a moment for an answer then plunged on. ‘The Corporation wanted Darden to be mayor a few years ago. He’d been an alderman since he was a young man. He turned it down and resigned. Paid the fine to be allowed to leave and that was it. Hasn’t done much since.’
    â€˜Why?’ Rob asked.
    The older man mulled over his reply. ‘He’s never said, although plenty of people had their