Page 45 of Miss Delightful
“Can’t ’old me ale,” Bertie said, smiling slightly and gesturing with his tankard.
“I don’t let Bertie out on his own at night if I can help it. Thou thinkst to bide a moment in the shadows to heed nature’s call, and thou gets a knife in t’ gut and a pair of angel’s wings for thy trouble. Bertie can’t hear t’ scrape of a footpad’s boot on t’ cobbles. He sees better in darkness than I ever will, but he don’t hear fer shite.”
Bertie smiled vaguely through this recitation, while the barmaid sent Powell a tacit invitation that was quite clear.
“Go on,” Alasdhair said. “Anything you recall, anything out of the ordinary that niggles at your memory, could be helpful.”
“I’ve seen some jump,” Scotty said. “Mostly men. They knows to leap as the tide goes out, when the currents are strong and deadly. T’ bridges make currents worse, and t’ Strand Bridge is on a bend in t’ river, which disturbs t’ currents even more. Won’t stand like them old bridges have. T’ river will have t’ last word.”
Alasdhair did not want to discuss bridge design. “Did you see Miss Fairchild jump?”
“I saw yer lass,” Scotty said quietly. “Did not see her jump. We know her. She used to try her luck on t’ street from time to time, but she hadn’t t’ knack for it. T’ other girls tried to show her how to get on, but it’s not t’ life she was raised to.”
“A good girl,” Bertie said, nodding vigorously. “A good, sweet girl.”
Not a girl at all. A woman grown, a mother, and very likely a suicide. “So what did you see?”
“She walked right past us,” Scotty said, “not that we was exactly in t’ middle of t’ street. She marched right onto t’ bridge. Beastly damned cold on t’ bridges in winter. The wind cuts right through ye like so many bayonets.”
Nor did Alasdhair want to think of bayonets, if at all possible. “What was she wearing?”
“Cloak, hat, scarf, gloves. Odd t’ing was, she had a bonnet under one arm and carried a bundle as well. Who packs a bag to jump off a bridge?”
Who indeed? “Did she jump?”
“Bertie and me had finished tendin’ to business, and I was for gettin’ out t’ cold, but Bertie kept an eye on Miss Fairchild.”
“She were moving quick,” Bertie said, “on account of t’ cold, maybe.”
Or because she dreaded to lose her nerve? “Then what happened?”
“We’d turned to get back to t’ Dove,” Scottie said, “when I heard a splash. Sound travels on water, and that was not a fish leaping nor a frog hopping. It were a splash.”
“Then she did jump?”
Scotty shook his head. “I hear for me and Bertie both, and I’ve seen other jumpers. It weren’t that kind of splash. ’Twasn’t heavy enow, if ye take my meaning. A good-sized woman in a winter cloak jumping from that height… It’s a long fall, MacKay, and though ye might not think it, a hard landing when a body hits the water. The river police claim most of the jumpers don’t survive that drop.”
“Bad business,” Bertie said, taking the last of the ham from the platter. “Turrible bad business. I thought maybe she tossed her babe into t’ river, but she wouldn’t do that unless ’twere dead.”
“The child is thriving and well cared for. You think she threw her bundle or bonnet into the river?”
Bertie and Scotty exchanged a look before Scotty tore the last strip of cheese in half and shared it with his brother.
“Bertie thinks she kept walking, off to the Lambeth side of t’ river, but I can’t see as well as he can, especially at night, and Bertie has a soft heart for the ladies. He wouldn’t want to think a woman jumped to her death while we simply stood by buttoning our breeches.”
“She were walkin’ quick-like,” Bertie said again. “Too damned cold to tarry. Scotty and me didn’t tarry neither.”
Powell signaled for another platter. “You say she did not jump?”
Bertie touched a finger to his ear. “Wot’s ’at, guv?”
“Miss Fairchild did not jump?”
Bertie sat back. “I can’t be sure. Even late at night, there’s foot traffic on t’ bridges, but I hope that were her striding off to the South Bank. It looked like her walk.”
The Southwark area was a cheaper place to bide than London itself, also a better place to hide from friends and family if a woman was bent on hiding.
“If you recall anything else,” Alasdhair said, “please let Powell know, and he can find me. This has been very helpful.”
