The Last Confession of Thomas Hawkins - [22]

Their leader – a short fellow, all sinew and sneer – muttered something to his companions. They shifted as one and glowered at Ned. He stared into his bowl of coffee, oblivious.

What the devil was he doing here? In the three months I’d lived on Russell Street I had never once seen him out in the taverns and coffeehouses of Covent Garden. The men were whispering to each other now, scowling openly at the foreigner washed up upon their land. Ned was a strong, solid lad with powerful muscles from his years of labour. I’d seen him run down the street carrying an oak table twice his size on his back. But these men were ferocious bastards in a fight – and there were six of them.

I should mind my own business. I had my bowl of punch and a fresh pipe – and troubles of my own. Stay in your fox hole, Mr Hawkins.

Ned rubbed his hands over his face. His clothes were in disarray, his waistcoat unbuttoned, his shirt loose. He looked close to tears.

Damn it. If he were only a bully like his master, someone I could despise and ignore. I should not trouble myself… And yet here I was, rising to my feet and pushing through the crowds. Might a few coins settle this? I arrived at the bench just as one of the gang shoved Ned hard in the ribs. He started as if from a dream, then leaped to his feet, fists raised. Oh, God – not another fight. Pain stabbed through my jaw at the thought. If someone hit me again tonight my head would probably fall off.

‘Gentlemen,’ I said, putting a hand on Ned’s shoulder and pulling him back.

Six men scowled up at me. There was a moment’s tense silence. I kept my shoulders back. Ned was tall and strong and so was I. Between us we could… run very fast for the street, God help us.

And then, to my astonishment, all six men drew back, nervous. After a moment’s pause, the leader dipped his chin at me. ‘Mr Hawkins.’ The rest of the gang followed, nodding sharply and turning back to their punch.

I looked from face to face, amazed by my good fortune and not quite sure I believed in it. But no – it seemed they had no appetite for a fight this evening, possibly for the first time in their lives. Half faint with relief, I grabbed Ned and led him away, back to my table. ‘That was a piece of luck,’ I muttered, leaning across to borrow a glass for him from the next table.

Ned stole a glance across the room as I poured him some punch. ‘There was no luck to it, sir. They was afraid of you.’

‘Nonsense.’ I relit my pipe.

Ned took a mouthful of punch, then coughed half of it back on to the table. He wiped his mouth with a smile of embarrassment. ‘Mr Burden don’t allow liquor in the house.’

‘So I hear.’ I took a long draw on my pipe. ‘But he allows Alice in his bed.’

Ned’s handsome, open face flashed with anger. ‘That… that is not true,’ he floundered. He was a terrible liar.

‘The walls are very thin, Ned.’

He struggled for a moment, loyal to his master. But I could see the desire to confide in someone playing through him, and there was anger there too. His fists, resting on the table, were clenched tight. ‘It’s wicked, sir,’ he said at last. ‘Alice Dunn is a respectable woman. But if she doesn’t… If she refused him… She’s nowhere to go. She’d end up like them.’ His eyes flickered to the girls at the lawyers’ table, gowns pulled down to their waist. Hands working under loosened breeches.

I laid down my pipe. ‘He’s taking her against her will?’

‘It started a few weeks ago, in secret. We didn’t know. Then Alice cried thief the other night – from his bed. We all heard her.’ He hung his head. ‘Now he don’t bother to keep quiet. I scolded Alice for it, told her it was a sin. She swore Mr Burden made her do it. She said he makes her cry out so we can hear. I don’t know. I suppose… perhaps she lies…’

But I could tell he did not believe that. There were tears in his eyes, as if the shame were his and not his master’s. And in truth how could he stand to lie abed at night and listen to it? We had laughed, Kitty and I, when we heard Burden and Alice together. It made me sick to think of it.

And what of Burden’s children, Judith and Stephen? Did they know the truth – did they understand? I hoped to God they did not. I thought of Judith crouched on the stairs that night, spitting Alice’s name as if it tasted foul upon her tongue. And Stephen, threatening to tell Gonson what he saw. What he truly saw that night.

I felt a terrible rage growing inside me. This was the man who was spreading foul lies about me? The man who dared to judge me a villain? I closed my eyes. How I hated him in that moment. And the thought came to me before I could stop myself. I wish that he were dead. ‘That is terrible, Ned. How can you bear it?’

Ned rolled his empty glass around and around in a despondent fashion. He had the hands of a busy carpenter – battered and grazed, quick and clever. ‘There’s something wrong with him. He ain’t himself. I’ve been his apprentice for seven years. Six days a week working at his side. He promised me a paid position once I’d finished my apprenticeship. And now it’s done…’ His voice fractured. ‘He’s ordered me to leave by the end of the week.’