Sikes, Chapter 18. The Reading

I travelled to Lucy’s home in Richmond to see her this time. In London the fog was thick enough to catch on the back of my throat, and turned what might have been a sunny day into an underwater scene from some murky pond. Such is the cost of the modern city, but it made it all the more delightful to see the fog thinning and sunlight finding its way through the smoke, as I bounced along in the carriage to Richmond. By the time I got there, the sun was shining brightly. I planned to to talk in the garden with some lemonade, rather than in the dark of the parlour. But Lucy had other plans. The dreaded Aunt Betsy was at hand, and would have sat by us in the garden with her sewing, overhearing every word.

Lucy was waiting in her room, fully dressed to go out, and as soon as I was at the door, she was down the stairs and we were out on the street, before Betsy had even the time to put her shoes on. Thus, Betsy withstanding, we had time to ourselves, and a good laugh at her expense as we hurried away in the direction of our favourite haunt, Richmond Park.

There was much to discuss. While I had been busy with Mrs Swindells and Molly, Lucy had at last been to the public audience with Mr Dickens. I was keen to know how that had gone, as a little help from the author would instantly remove much of the slog from our labours. But the first thing I brought up with Lucy was the possible dangers the Investigation might carry. I told the story of my ejection from the Vauxhall by Joe Willis and his cronies. Lucy was immediately solicitous, and insisted on washing my wounds with her own fair hands, with a little water and one of her pretty handkerchiefs, which did sting a little but which I did enjoy - it made me feel quite the solider.

‘Even so,’ I told her. ‘Mrs Swindells has warned me off. Joe Wills must have had some reason for being so heavy handed. Even Molly had some strange remarks that I take as a kind of warning. It is telling that we’ve had no responses at all from either your questions or my advertisements ...’

‘Yes, exactly. How thrilling this is!’ exclaimed Lucy. ‘I knew there was some dark secret behind all this, Will. What on earth can it be?’

‘No doubt Sikes got up to more criminal acts than we know anything about. There could be any number of his old cronies who want his past to stay just there - in the past.’

‘But what crime are they hiding from us? Murder, perhaps? Blackmail? Something utterly terrible, without doubt, for them to be so worried about it twenty years after his death.’

‘Exactly.’

’And consider; someone must be threatening Mrs Swindells and Joe Willis for them to suddenly clam up like this. And not just them. What about all the others, those who might have come forward in reply to your advertisements and my questions but chose not to? Why not? Because they are all scared, Will - scared to talk, scared to act, scared to even admit that they once knew the man. Whoever or whatever it is behind that fear, they have a long reach - a reach so long, it can spread right across twenty years and the length and breadth of London Town. Oh, Will!’ Lucy’s eyes fairly glittered with excitement. ‘I feel we are on the verge of some deep and dark secrets indeed.’

Lucy went on to list all the stabbings, bludgeonings, shootings, disfigurings and general horrors that she had read over the years, that might be behind of all this. I admit, I was somewhat taken aback.

‘So Lucy, darling,’ I interrupted. ‘Do you think I might be putting myself in some danger?’

‘Oh! I didn’t mean ...’

‘Do you think we should stop? Lucy? What do you say?’

‘Oh, no, Will. That would be cowardly. There is the matter of justice. There is the law.’ She paused and considered. ‘I would say, in fact, that is now all the more important that we carry on.’

Lucy looked very noble and beautiful there for a moment, with her chin jutting out bravely, but I could not help considering that it was not her who was putting herself in danger. As I say, I am not particularly brave man, but I hope not an overtly cowardly one, either. So far I’d had no idea of stopping the Investigation, but just at that moment I would rather not have my fiancé list all the dreadful things that might actually happen to me in the near future.

I moved her on to the subject of Mr Dickens. While I had been busy with Molly, Lucy had been to her evening with the author of Oliver Twist. I was intensely curious as to how her meeting with him had gone. Thankfully, she jumped onto it.