The inns in this book existed. The Talbot did indeed have a cockpit, and the fights were a big attraction. Garroway’s was there, the only coffee house in Leeds at a time when the drink was rare and expensive, as was tea. Gunpowder Treason Night, as it was called, celebrated the smashing of Guy Fawkes and the Gunpowder Plot to blow up Parliament – the exact opposite of how it stands today.
Richard Nottingham, too, was real, and he was the Constable of Leeds, although there’s no mention of him retiring and coming back to work. In fact, there’s precious little mention of him at all in the records, just a note by a member of the Town Waits (musicians) of him marching in a parade, and even there he’s wrongly called Deputy Constable. No portrait, no headstone, so little left. We know he married in 1676 (to Jane Wood, not to someone named Mary), and he died in 1740, but I’ve been unable to discover any record of his birth so far. They had several children, most of whom lived; the oldest, Elizabeth, married the second son of a baronet. As Richard held the office of Constable until 1737, he must have been a good age when he retired.
However, all that blank canvas gives me the luxury to invent his life and his family. And hopefully, he lives on a little.
I’m very grateful to Kate Lyall Grant for being willing to bring Richard out of retirement, and to everyone at Severn House for all the work they do; it’s truly appreciated. In Lynne Patrick I have a wonderful editor, and my agent Tina Betts does a splendid job. All those in libraries and bookshops: like every writer, I thank you. My partner, Penny, gracefully puts up with plenty of silence as I work.
Above all, thanks to those who’ve read and loved the previous books and asked me if there will ever be more. Without that, Richard would still be enjoying many quiet days. Thank you for your support.