The Masters of Bow Street (34 page)

Gravely, but without hesitation, she said, ‘If you work for the Fieldings, Jamey, you will have no time for family life, and your wife will be lonely and much of the time afraid. I think you will have to make up your mind which is the more important to you - Mary, whom you know very little, or this task to which you declare you are dedicated. Your surely cannot honestly have both at this early stage.’

He was forced, with the greatest reluctance, to agree.

He was up at six o’clock the following morning and, taking a fine bay horse from the stables, rode to London, where at eleven o’clock he called on Mary. In one way he dreaded the meeting, realising that he must have led her to expect that he would have some practical proposals to make; but in that event she made it very easy for him, affecting to have expected nothing but his charitable thoughts.

‘One thing is very pleasing, Jamey! If all goes well with the Fieldings you will be near at hand!’

He left her at half-past eleven with no idea that, as she watched him from the window, tears were streaming down her cheeks.

Preoccupied now with his next task, he rode to Bow Street, finding that although no one was on the bench, debtors and felons, thief-takers and sheriffs’ officers, constables and witnesses, even wives and relatives, crowded the court. Winfrith was there and was delighted to see him in a small ante-room.

‘I know both brothers will be able to see you at three o’clock this afternoon,’ he promised. ‘Will you be back then?’

‘I shall not delay a moment,’ James promised.

He took the horse to a livery stable and walked along Bow Street into a sprinkling of rain out of what had seemed a clear blue sky. It was colder than when he had arrived, too, which meant that there was a sudden change in the weather which would make it difficult to get about. As he neared Thames Street a gust of wind brought the unmistakable stink of fish from Billingsgate Market, and he saw a group of fishwives, none with less than four baskets on their heads, gathered about an alehouse near the Monument. Their language was so coarse that he could understand only part of it and was astonished by the obscenities which flowed from their mouths. Walking quickly past, he turned into a narrow alley and came to Thames Street and the great building which the years had mellowed very little. Close by was another edifice in the same style, reached by a covered way from the main building. That was a measure of the growth of the House of Furnival.

Two guards questioned him before he was allowed in; another, carrying both night stick and pole, questioned him when he was inside. It was like entering a closely guarded palace. A youth in honey-brown uniform with violet sash and stockings carried a message up the great circular staircase and within two minutes was hurrying down again, saying, ‘Mr. Francis will see him!’

Slowly James mounted the stairs. Dwarfed by the magnitude of the building, trying desperately not to be overimpressed, he was nonetheless on edge when a door on the right opened. Next moment all sense of intimidation disappeared, for Timothy came hurrying out, both arms extended.

‘You are as welcome as a man can be,’ he declared. ‘Come in, come in.’

Except that his thick hair was nearly white, Francis Furnival looked little different from glimpses that James had caught of him several years earlier, and still retained the honey complexion he had had in his youth. He dragged himself around the big desk, shook hands, said that Timothy had been talking about their hopes and plans; no one could have been more friendly.

When they were all sitting down he smiled and said, ‘While I could hope that you have come to see if there is an opportunity for you to work at Furnival House I am not persuaded that this is likely - at least not yet! How can I be of service, James?’

‘I am really here with a message from my stepfather,’ James began, and saw the other’s face light up. ‘He would very much like to come to the opening of the new Furnival Docks.’

Soon, Francis was saying warmly, ‘I hope you will tell him that this will be one of our greatest pleasures. Three Furnival ships from Bombay and Kiamari will be docking that night, to baptise the new docks, as it were. One of them carries mail and there should be some from our sister Anne. John could not have chosen a more fortunate time. And you may be assured that we shall exert ourselves in every way to make his visit easy. You yourself must tell us where to put ramps for that ingenious chair of his!’

There was no doubt of the warmth and sincerity this man felt towards his brother, yet James knew there was a deep chasm between them which had never fully been bridged.

As he replied, something of the puzzlement he felt showed in his face, and Francis asked, ‘Is there some doubt about bringing the chair, James? D’you think he will be self-conscious and embarrassed?’

‘In no way, sir, or he would not have agreed to come,’ James said. After a moment’s hesitation he went on in a gruff voice, his cheeks turning red. ‘It puzzles me that you should make both me and Sir John so welcome and show such obvious pleasure yet at the same time be so often in conflict.’

‘Ah,’ Francis breathed. ‘I can understand your bewilderment because we have never been able to sink our differences. If they were matters of policy we would have no problem, but the clash is one of principle. The rest of us do not believe in a national or even a city peacemaking force; we are convinced it would infringe too deeply on the freedom of the individual. John would sacrifice a measure of this freedom to combat crime in a way which might not succeed even if it were tried.’ Francis leaned back in his chair. Few lines betrayed his forty-six years, although his eyes crinkled at the corners as he asked, ‘Have you committed yourself to one view or the other, James?’

‘Yes, sir,’ James answered. And when both Francis and Timothy waited for him to go on, he added quietly, ‘There was a big fire in the Strand a few nights ago, when some enraged sailors broke up a brothel. Had troops not arrived there would no doubt have been a greater fire. But for firm action next day, when Mr. Henry Fielding called out many more troops, four thousand sailors together with rough elements from the mob might have caused a most serious riot. Had two or three Bow Street men been present at the outset they could not only have prevented the fire altogether, but could have averted the following day’s trouble. I believe that the property of all people should be protected by the government, sir - so I am with the Fieldings.’

‘A brothel keeper and a dozen prostitutes and no doubt some pimps and bullies - are their rights to be protected, too?’

‘In this case, as I have said, much damage and a serious riot threatened. But in any case I believe that the rights of all should be protected, sir. Where is the line to stop, sir, if there is not to be one law for all? Who is to be judge of who must obey a law and who may defy it?’

James fell silent, acutely aware of the scrutiny in Francis’ eyes and of Timothy staring at him with uncommon intensity. The slow relaxation of the older man’s expression convinced him there was no disapproval.

At last Francis said quietly, ‘Your reasoning and the manner of presentation does you much credit. If you change your views about the need of a professional peace-keeping force there will always be a position of distinction for you here.’

‘Thank you, sir, you are very kind.’

‘I perceive that if you do not waste your efforts or your talents you have a bright future. Now! Timothy, why don’t you take James to see the terrace and, indeed, show him all over Furnival Tower House? The tour may impress him with the great scope offered here.’

He stood up and leaned across the desk; his parting grip was very firm.

‘You know, Jamey, you have almost made me a convert,’ Timothy declared as they stood on the terrace and looked out over the seemingly unending panorama of London. James was amazed at the scene of the thriving activity on the river and at the docks, the mass of buildings spreading now in all directions. ‘If I didn’t know that more than half - nay, three-quarters - of the people of London were well fed and happy and unaffected by crime or criminal tendencies, I would be with you,’ Timothy finished.

‘If you could convince me that there were a thousand families wholly free from the influences of crime I might agree with Francis,’ James said. ‘But that day will be a long time coming.’

He left Furnival House with barely time to arrive at Bow Street by three o’clock, and to make sure that he was not late he hailed a hackney carriage from a stand just outside the Furnival building. He was at Bow Street a little before three o’clock and Winfrith took him immediately to Henry Fielding, who was in a small private room near the one James’s mother had once shared with John Furnival.

James was surprised to see how ill and weak the magistrate appeared, but there was no weakness in his voice when he said, ‘James Marshall, the day will come when my brother or I will call upon your services, but at this time we feel the need for men with extensive knowledge of the slums and criminal haunts of London. To take on a single new officer without such knowledge could be disastrous. So I beg of you, do what you can in court for any accused whom David Winfrith deems worthy of your help, and be prepared for the day when I can welcome you as I would dearly love to now. And meanwhile, pray say nothing in public about the Bow Street men.’ The lined face twisted in a wry smile as he added, ‘Officially, they do not exist.’

James hardly knew how he excused himself and withdrew. It had not occurred to him that he would be rejected, especially in such a way; that what had become a great dream would be smashed so swiftly.

He was empty of hope when he left the court and walked the streets of London for so long that he grew footsore. By the time he reached Timothy’s rooms he was damning himself for what he had said to Mary and hating himself because in his hurt he had not told Henry Fielding that John Furnival would like to visit Bow Street. He forced himself to go back and, by chance, met John Fielding, who moved with such freedom and assurance that it was difficult to realise he was blind. James told him about Furnival, praying that John Fielding meant what he said about the wholeheartedness with which Henry would welcome his predecessor.

When eventually James saw Timothy, the other’s delight about the visit to the pageant was so great that for the first time the raw hurt of disappointment began to ease.

‘My dear Sir John,’ Henry Fielding said, taking Furnival’s hand, ‘I cannot recall a greater pleasure. This gives me hope that you might once more take your seat on the bench.’

‘And none with greater right,’ John Fielding declared.

Blind though he was, he found his way about with great expertise and he too shook Furnival’s hand. Warned in advance that Furnival would not be able to converse and would like only to be wheeled about the court and the downstairs rooms now occupied by the Fieldings, they extended not only great courtesy but obvious respect to the man who had once been chief magistrate. Furnival sat through the hearing of two cases, one against a man charged with the rape of a young girl, one against a youth charged with causing the death of another by unlawfully hurling stones at him while he had been helpless in the stocks. When the first part of the visit was over, the Fieldings entertained their guests in the room at the back of the offices, ‘their’ room to Ruth for so long. For the occasion a long table had been placed the full length of the chamber, and this was covered, if sparsely, with hot and cold meat pies, oyster stew, baked potatoes and baked carrots, and bread as good as any ever tasted at St. Giles.

If James ate sparingly it was because he did not want to eat too much of this food, provided with such sacrifice. In any case, at Furnival Tower House a great banquet would be prepared for a vastly greater number, and he could eat there without the guilty sense that he was robbing someone else. He was fully aware that John Furnival was deeply affected and could imagine how he longed to be able to express his thanks. His own regard for the Fieldings rose enormously; no one could have shown more concern and affection than they for old John.

At last the eating and drinking of wine and beer were at an end, and by four-thirty a carriage came to take James and John and Ruth Furnival to Furnival Tower House. Leaving the big table, James saw his mother glance at the door leading to Bell Lane, and he followed her to find, with common astonishment, a crowd of at least a hundred people, men and women, mostly in rags, lined up outside.

It was Winfrith who, coming to join them, said quietly, ‘After you have gone these people will come in and finish the food. It will be of interest for you to know that every one of the Bow Street men as well as all the magistrates contributed to the expense incurred. That is how well Sir John is remembered.’

‘I will tell my father,’ James replied, ‘and I know I can express his very sincere gratitude for all that has been done.’

He saw his mother glance at him sharply, saw Winfrith’s eyes widen as if in surprise, but gave neither any thought as Henry Fielding came to escort his mother to Bow Street. For a second time James was astonished, for a much larger crowd had gathered here, obviously good-natured, and containing nearly as many women as men. All were watching with fascination as John Furnival, sitting in his chair, was being raised on boards by two chairmen. Once the chair’s wheels were level with the door of the carriage, the chair was turned slowly so that he was pushed inside. Only a carriage with an especially wide door would have allowed this, and compared with the great strain and effort of getting him into and out of the carriage before, this was ease and comfort itself.

Once he was inside there was a burst of cheering and shouting.’

With Ruth and James opposite him, the carriage set off, and James had never ridden in one which jarred the passengers so little over the uneven roads. Nothing which could be done to make the ride easier for his father—

He stopped in the middle of his thinking: astounded. That was what had surprised his mother and Winfrith: he had for the first time in his life called John Furnival his father; and it could only be because he had thought of him as such!