That night, with Ann asleep in my arms, I silently pray to the new Queen to realise that if she can rule the country as a woman, she could also allow others at least some chance of education, a chance to be listened to, a chance to vote without judgement.

I ask Ann to join me on a trip into Halifax again. She refuses, but I’ll not miss the laying of the foundation stone on my own bloody building. I shall not roll over and die just yet. Northgate House, which had sat idly by for years, has finally been renovated into a hotel, and now we will start works on an adjoining building with a spacious saloon for dancing and parties: a casino. Our new joint Lister-Walker venture. I want to leave my mark on Halifax, and if nothing else it has been a project to occupy me. I’ll make it a success, then I’ll rent the thing out and never have to venture into town again, with or without her.

To my surprise, Ann eventually agrees to come and even offers to say some words herself at the ceremony. She wants us to appear as partners in the endeavour, to show all her cousins, who will no doubt be in attendance, that she is not some meek companion but is making her own decision to invest. I admire her for suggesting this and encourage her.

Now, though, sat in the carriage as we turn out onto the main road into Halifax, she quakes next to me at the thought of public speaking, but I will not let her back out of it. It will do her good, and for them to see her. The last time many folks saw us together was at Aunt’s funeral, and now here we are in triumph. Let them stare, let them judge! At least they’ll see that she’s alive and I’ve not drowned her in the lake and kept her money.

As we approach the hotel, over a hundred people have gathered and I wonder if they are here for the spectacle of the new building or the spectacle of us.

We bury some coins and an inscription placed inside a green glass bottle. We make our speeches and receive applause. For a moment, I could forget our troubles and feel somewhat part of the town and its people once more. Has enough time passed for us to make more of ourselves again? Then I remember the pistol tucked underneath the seat in the carriage and that I had asked all my men to attend, and here they stand around us like guards, as if we were royalty perhaps. I eye the crowd to see if I can discern a tall broad man carrying a stick, willing to bludgeon someone, even a woman, for a fee and the spite of another.

Miss Walker

I say a few words and thank God when it is over.