Death in the Dark Walk by Deryn Lake Read Free Book Online Page B

a force of Brave Fellows. It was Henry Fielding who first trained the Thief Takers, and let no one forget it.’
    â€˜And what of John?’
    â€˜The Blind Beak? An exceptional human being. To do all that he has done to impose law and order in so short a time since his brother’s retirement, and without the use of his eyes, is almost beyond belief.’
    John looked up and saw that they were alone, that the port, both white and red, had been set before Sir Gabriel and the servants were bowing their way out of the room.
    â€˜Father, I must speak to you now that we are private together,’ he said urgently. ‘How much do you know of what occurred last night?’
    â€˜I am aware of most that happened at Vaux Hall. Samuel made his way here and told me the whole story.’ Sir Gabriel drank deeply as if to arm himself for what lay ahead, and John did likewise.
    â€˜What he didn’t tell you, because he did not know of it, was that I found something of importance on the dead girl. She had a piece of blue brocade clutched in her hand, obviously pulled from her murderer’s clothing.’
    Sir Gabriel said nothing, his face alight with interest.
    â€˜I told Mr Fielding of it and he has enlisted my help in finding the owner of that torn garment and bringing him to justice.’
    â€˜God’s wounds!’ exclaimed Sir Gabriel, whistling slightly beneath his breath, an action which John found most endearing. ‘What an honour! To be picked for such a task by a member of so great a family. What did you say?’
    â€˜I agreed.’
    â€˜Quite rightly.’
    â€˜Yet there was doubt in my mind when I did so. With my indentures formally ended it occurred to me that I should be starting out on my career, that I might be set back by such an adventure.’
    Sir Gabriel smiled a worldly smile. ‘My boy, you are but twenty-three years old. Many, many years lie ahead in which you may compound your great and many pills and brews and, indeed, experiment for the good of mankind. But now fate has called you out and I am gratified to hear that my son has risen to such a challenge.’
    As he spoke words of lineage and parenthood, the old man was filled with bitter-sweet memories, remembering the first glimpse of John and his mother, and acknowledging reluctantly that the young man was only his adopted son after all and not related by ties of blood.
    He had seen them initially from the window of his coach, the mother and child begging in the streets, dirty, dishevelled and desperate for food. He had noted them in a vague abstracted way, the dewdrop of a girl, fresh as a brook, the boy all eyes, all innocent despair. The fact that his carriage had knocked them flying, thrown them down into the filth of the gutters, had torn his heart from his body. Shouting to his coachman to stop, he had lifted them himself, carried them, bruised and bleeding, into the safety of his conveyance. At that moment, even though he had not been aware of it, had begun the grand passion of his life. Sir Gabriel Kent, widower of the parish of St Anne’s, Soho, victim of an arranged, loveless and childless marriage, had felt the first stirring of an emotion unfamiliar to him.
    He had taken the beggar woman and her son to his newly-built home in Nassau Street, his intention to feed them, let them recover from their cuts and bruises, then send them on their way. But he had reckoned without the sweetness they had brought into his elegant soulless mansion, without the trust of the three-year-old who had thrust his small dirty hand into that of Sir Gabriel almost immediately. He had also reckoned without the delicate beauty of the child’s mother, revealed in all its splendour as the grime of the London streets was washed away from her.
    He had started by employing her as a servant, for she was no more than a simple country girl from the village of Twickenham, her accent rural, her social status low. Her name, so