Anthony stepped into the constable’s office, satchel in hand, allowing several moments for his eyes to adjust from the afternoon’s brightness to the dingy dimness of the closed space. The transport would be by later to convey Timmons to Leeds, and this was Anthony’s last opportunity to address the former watchman before his departure. He’d accompanied several perpetrators into a similar structure before, but never did he think he would be visiting his friend in one.
He stepped toward the iron bars, and Timmons stood from a stool as Anthony approached. It had only been a few days since he last saw Timmons, but Anthony was struck at his altered appearance. The lines around his eyes and mouth seemed deeper. The shade of his eyes seemed to have dulled, and the start of a beard hugged his jaw. It was the man’s posture, however, that was the biggest window into his state of mind—he was hunched, just as he had been the morning they had met at the public house when he had not been granted the constable position.
For several moments neither man spoke.
Anthony had expected to be frustrated or perhaps evenindifferent when seeing his friend after what had transpired, but he was not prepared for the rage that flared within him at the sight. He drew a steadying breath. This conversation needed to happen—for both their sakes. “I debated on whether to come.”
“Felt sorry for me, did ye?” Timmons smirked in a failed attempt at lighthearted banter.
Anthony stiffened. He did feel a measure of pity for the man who had been as close as a brother. This was not the future he wanted for his friend. But now, outrage for the danger he’d put Charlotte and Henry in flared afresh.
“I ’eard ye got shot.” Timmons nodded to Anthony’s shoulder.
“It’s not the worst injury I’ve received. I’ll recover.” Anthony kept his tone flat as he handed the satchel through the bars of the gaol. “I brought you some apples. The magistrate said you’d not eaten.”
“Very thoughtful,” Timmons responded in a measured tone. “Are these t’ give me enough sustenance so I can walk on me own t’ the gallows?”
Annoyed at the dark jest, Anthony pushed the satchel farther. “Just take them.”
After several seconds, Timmons grabbed the outstretched offering.
Anthony paced the small space before Timmons, allowing his thoughts to calm. He’d contemplated what he wanted to say and what questions he would ask. But now that he was here, they would not form. At length he said, “You and I have found ourselves in some precarious situations before, but this is one I never would have suspected.”
Timmons fixed his eyes hard on Anthony. “And I never expected ye t’ woo our client. Ye ruined everything, ye know—ye and your romantic conquests.”
Anthony shrugged. “I’ve known Charlotte for years. Besides, my personal life should have no bearing on your actions.”
“That may be so, but this would ’ave gone differently if you’d been ’onest and told me t’ truth straightaway.”
“You speak of being honest?” Anthony blurted incredulously. “When I think over the last several months, even years, I don’t know what part of what you said was true and what was a lie.”
The words echoed from the stone wall, capturing the attention of the constable, and Anthony checked his rising volume and tugged at his neckcloth, and he refocused his concentration. “How did you even get involved in this?”
The war battling within Timmons wrote itself on his face before he spoke. “Years ago, when I was involved in takin’ the jewels after Swendel Bay, I knew it was wrong, but Walstead told me if we kept Roland Prior content, then I’d be able t’ pick and choose me assignments.”
“Swendel Bay,” repeated Anthony. “You told me you were at Raunten Bay.”
“’Twas a lie.” Timmons shrugged matter-of-factly.
Anthony scoffed and shook his head.
“I lied t’ protect ye,” Timmons blurted.
“I wouldn’t have wanted or needed your protection.”
“As soon as I ’eard about Roland Prior’s death, I knew there might be trouble. T’ less ye knew about me involvement, t’ better. Besides, I didn’t want ye t’ get suspicious.” Timmons cleared histhroat. “Anyway, after Prior died, Walstead told me t’ watch ’is wife t’ find out what she knew about t’ jewels. Said it would get us paid for t’ job we did. It seemed simple, so I played up t’ the maid and found out what I could. And then ye complicate it by bein’ in love with t’ woman I was t’ watch. I didn’t know ’ow t’ get out of it.”
“Then why did you not say something? I would have helped if I’d known.”
“By t’ time I realized t’ extent Walstead would go t’ get the King’s Prize, I was too far in. Ye know Walstead. ’E demanded complete loyalty. T’ job was not supposed t’ include ye, but when ’e mentioned Blight Moor, I knew ye were from there and that we all stood to make a great deal of money. So I suggested you join. It was t’ perfect setup.”
“If you are expecting me to thank you for including me in this venture, I will not be doing that.”
“No. But like I told ye, I never suspected ye and Mrs.Prior were so friendly. And when ’e tasked me with wooin’ MissSutcliffe, things got dark and complicated quickly. And ye know what ’appens if ye go against Walstead...”
His voice faded, but Anthony understood his meaning. Going against Walstead would mean the end of his career.
Timmons continued. “I also hear ye are t’ be married. Everything seems t’ be working out for ye.”
