More laughter. Mrs. Morgan, Clement’s mother, remained stiff-lipped and disapproving.
“You are a rather strong man, Captain.” The coroner gave me a pointed look.
“But not nimble.” I tapped my leg with my walking stick. “If Joshua had run from me, I could not have given chase.”
The coroner did not look convinced. “If he trusted you, and if you came from his father, he might not run.”
I squared my shoulders. “I give you my word, sir, upon my honor, that I did young Master Bickley no harm. I never met the lad, and did not know it was he in the boat until told by the magistrate.”
“That you remember.” The coroner’s gaze was severe. “The wounds put his death late Monday night or very early on Tuesday morning. Do you remember anything else about that night through your inebriation?”
“I dined with my wife at the Pavilion, upon invitation. After that, I apparently spoke to Mr. Bickley but then was in bed asleep until late Tuesday afternoon.”
I spoke in a ringing voice, but my mouth was dry. I skirted the truth, but I could not very well blurt out in court that I’d wandered about Brighton and come to myself over Isherwood’s body. I’d find myself quickly locked away to wait for the Assizes. I doubted I’d have had time to kill Josh and put him into a boat, meet with the Quakers, and go on to kill Isherwood, but I wished I couldremember.
The coroner sifted through his papers again and at last gave me a nod that I could go.
“Call Mr. Clive Bickley.”
I hated to see the poor man in his grief forced in front of all eyes, but Mr. Bickley moved forward without hesitation.
The coroner, ignoring me as I returned to my place against the wall, addressed Bickley in a gentle voice. “I know that you, as a Quaker, Mr. Bickley, will not swear an oath, so I will not ask it. You can sign an affirmation later to satisfy the lawyers, but I will take what you say as truth.”
“Thank you,” Bickley said in a near whisper.
“Now then. Please tell me what happened with your son—when did he go missing?”
Bickley cleared his throat. “Sunday last, after Meeting.”
“Did he give any indication where he was going? Something like, ‘I’m going out for a walk, Father?’ or ‘I’ll be with my mates at the seaside?’”
“No. Nothing like that.” Bickley swallowed, his cheeks staining red. “My son and I had quarreled. He was very angry with me.”
“About what?” The coroner’s pen hovered, ink arrested in the act of dripping from its tip.
“I’d prefer not to say. A private quarrel between father and son.”
The coroner’s eyes narrowed. “You understand that the quarrel might have led to his disappearance, Mr. Bickley? Perhaps even his death?”
Bickley acknowledged this with a nod. “I do know. But as it might have nothing to do with it, I will not speak.”
Another murmur from the collected crowd, this one of surprise. The coroner tried to glare Bickley into obedience, but the man proved stubborn.
The coroner heaved a sigh. “Very well, but be warned that the magistrate or I will have it out of you if it proves relevant.”
I too very much wanted to know what Bickley and his son had quarreled about, and why he’d not mentioned this to me.
Perhaps Joshua had tired of the constraints of the Friends, or fancied a young woman of whom Mr. Bickley disapproved. Or had Josh simply shown the rage against his father that many young men experience in their lives? Even if Bickley and Josh had maintained a pleasant friendship, at some point a youth wants to break free and live his own life, as I knew from bitter experience.
I pictured the young man storming out, his father sadly watching him go. Bickley would have reasoned Josh would return after he cooled down, and they’d discuss things more calmly. But Joshua hadn’t returned.
The coroner continued. “When did you become alarmed at your son’s absence?”
“I wasn’t.” Bickley’s voice wavered. “He has friends in Hove he visits from time to time. I assumed him there. But when I sent a message to those friends, they said they hadn’t seen him. He’d never been there.”
Bickley’s face crumpled into misery. The sympathy in the room was rife. The young woman—niece? cousin?—went to Bickley and caught him before he could collapse.
The coroner did not look happy that his witness could obviously answer no more questions, but he waved Bickley back to the cluster of Friends.
