The Midwife's Tale (12 page)

I paused for a moment, considering the path that lay before me. I knew that whoever had murdered Stephen Cooper was vicious enough to kill in cold blood and expert enough to do it well. If he could slip ratsbane into Stephen’s milk, what would keep him from poisoning my wine? If I took up Esther’s cause, I would put myself between a killer and his freedom.

“How can we get into that chest?” I asked.

Esther strode across her cell to the bed and stuck her hand in the mattress. She withdrew a chain with two keys on it and handed it to me. “This key”—indicating the larger of the two—“is to the door of my husband’s study. The other should unlock the chest. He never took this chain off his neck. Ellen is still in the house, and she will let you in. I told her she should look for another household, but she refused to abandon me. She is convinced I’ll be home soon. You and Ellen are the only ones in York who have shown yourselves to be true friends.”

“I don’t know what I would do without my Hannah,” I said. “But the truth is that even if we find evidence that Stephen had enemies, you are the one who has been convicted of his murder. The Lord Mayor will not reverse the verdict simply because someone else might have been happy to see your husband dead.”

“What other choice do I have?”

I had no answer to that, so I gave her the food that Hannah had prepared, bade her good-bye, and pounded on the cell door. The dwarf shuffled down the stairs, unlocked the door, and let us out. I paused to talk to him.

“You’ve seen more than a few murderers in your time,” I said. “What do you make of Mrs. Cooper? Is she guilty?” At this he stopped abruptly. I could only imagine the scorn with which the soldiers must have treated him, and he wasn’t used to being asked his opinion. He looked up at me, his eyes sharp.

“In my opinion, she’s no guiltier of murdering her husband than I am. Anyone can kill, if they get angry or drunk enough. But this ain’t that kind of murder. This one was cold and careful, very deliberate. She hasn’t got it in her.” He shrugged, as if her innocence were of mild interest but not anything he could concern himself with.

“Do you know who I am?” I asked.

“I saw the letter,” he said. Apparently he took his diminutive stature as license to speak insolently to his betters.

“Then you know I have power in the city,” I said. He nodded. “If you see to it that Mrs. Cooper is well treated, I would count it as a favor to me. And if you hear anything about the murder that I might find of interest, send me word right away. What is your name?”

“Samuel Short,” he said with a laugh. “But they call me Short Samuel, of course. Whatever the case, you have a deal.”

He opened the tower door and ushered us out. We passed through the Castle grounds, crossed the bridge, and reentered the city. By now the summer sun had begun to set, and with the shops closed, we were among the only people on the street.

“Do you believe her?” Martha asked.

“I take it that you do not?”

Martha shrugged. “If I have to choose between an assassin who slipped into Mr. Cooper’s house, poisoned his milk, and then escaped—all without being seen—or a wife who grew sick of her husband’s wandering eye, heavy hand, or inability to get her with child, I’ll look to the wife. That she stumbled on the right amount of poison is nothing more than the devil’s own luck.”

“Stephen would never mistreat Esther, nor would he take a mistress, any more than Edward would!”

“Was he not a man?” Martha asked, arching one eyebrow.

“And even if he did beat her,” I continued, “Esther was telling the truth.”

“How do you know?”

“Unmarried mothers will often lie to me about the father of their bastards, so I know a lie when I hear one.”

“It is possible that frightened girls in pain do not make the best liars,” Martha replied. “And to my eye she was not telling us the truth about something. I promise you that.”

“Perhaps,” I said. “But I believe her. And now it is my duty to discover the guilty party.”

“Your duty?” she asked, puzzled. “As a gentlewoman?”

“As Esther’s midwife. She is my friend and I am her midwife, so I cannot abandon her. I am the only chance she has to escape burning for a crime she says she did not commit.”

“And if we find evidence that she is guilty?”

“I believe she is innocent.”

“But what if you are wrong?”

“Then I will see her burn,” I said. “Justice, however tardy, will be done.
That
is my duty as well.” By now we had turned onto Stonegate. “But those are concerns for another day. Tomorrow you will take a letter directly to the Lord Mayor informing him that Mrs. Cooper is with child. The execution will have to wait.”

Chapter 9

The next morning I wrote a letter to the Lord Mayor informing him that Esther’s execution would have to wait for some months. I imagined that my verdict would bring an angry letter from Edward or even from the Lord Mayor himself, but there was little that they could do. Men might claim knowledge of the law, government, and the Word of God, but secrets of pregnancy and childbirth remained in women’s hands. I then wrote a more careful missive to Charles Yeoman, asking if he would meet with me that day. I left the letter as vague as I could, for I could not know if he lamented Esther’s fate or might resent my role in putting off her execution. I sent Hannah to Yeoman’s and told her to wait for his reply. Not half an hour later, Hannah returned—Charles Yeoman would see me right away.

Not wanting to keep a man like Yeoman waiting, Martha and I left immediately. We walked up Stonegate toward Yeoman’s house near the church of St. Michael-le-Belfrey. Contrary to its name, St. Michael’s had neither bells nor belfry, but it impressed just the same. It was the largest parish church in the city and lay just across the street from the Minster itself, basking in the cathedral’s glory. When Charles Yeoman came to York, he had chosen a parish appropriate for a man of great wealth, and his home was no less impressive. They said that Yeoman had come to the city to escape the wars, and his choice of homes also spoke to his retirement from political life, for it lay on one of the city’s winding side streets that led nowhere in particular. I couldn’t help wondering if the war might have been avoided if moderate men such as Yeoman had seen fit to fight as courageously for peace as the partisans had fought for war.

Even though I knew of Yeoman’s wealth, the sumptuousness of his home was striking. Elegant paintings in the style of Rubens adorned the walls, and the furniture coverings were of the finest silk. I had only a moment to absorb the luxury of Yeoman’s parlor before a servant whisked me to his study and took Martha to the kitchen. Yeoman sat in a large chair behind his desk, a pair of spectacles perched on his long nose. When we entered, he glanced up momentarily from the papers he was reading and held up one finger for me to wait. When he’d finished the page, he set the papers on his desk and looked up. His white hair was cut close to his scalp in the style of the Parliament-men, but I did not think he cleaved to any party. While old age robbed some men of their authority, such was not the case for Yeoman. Everything about him announced that he was a man accustomed to wielding a great deal of power. While I considered myself equal to most men and superior to some, Yeoman overawed me. Esther had told me that he’d left politics, but I now had my doubts. He may have given up his public offices, but I did not believe for a moment that he had forsaken his power.

“Sit, sit, sit,” he said. I had the sense not that he wished to rush through our meeting, but that he conducted all his affairs efficiently and expected those around him to keep up. He stared at me intently, and I had the distinct feeling that the judgment he formed in the next few seconds would dictate the nature of our relationship.

“So you are Edward Hodgson’s sister, the Lady Bridget. Edward speaks very highly of you. I am happy to talk with you as a courtesy to your brother,” Yeoman continued, “but I am not entirely clear what interests we could have in common. What is it that you want? Not a loan, I hope. If you need money, you should marry.”

I realized then that the one thing Charles Yeoman and Stephen Cooper shared was a disdain for women. I forced a smile and hoped that my face did not betray the revulsion I felt rising in my throat. I knew that he would end our interview if he thought I was wasting his time, so I got right to the point. “I am here at the behest of your niece, Esther. She says that she has been wrongly convicted of Stephen’s murder. I believe her, but too many men have their own reasons to see her burnt for her protests to do any good.”

“And how does that concern me?” he asked. “She has been convicted and the law should take its course.” What little hope I’d had that his affection for his niece would inspire him to help died a quiet death.

“I cannot believe that you want to see your own niece burned for a crime she did not commit. You know the circumstances of her trial. Surely the law must mean something, even during war.”

Yeoman grunted in agreement. “It was … an unusual trial, I’ll grant you that. But what can
you
do about it?”

“I intend to prove her innocence,” I said with as much strength as I could muster.

He smiled at me as he would a youngster declaring her desire to fly. “Of course you do. And what can I do to help you?”

“Esther felt sure that Stephen had many enemies within the city, but did not know whom they might be. Because you have advised him, she suggested I consult you.”

Yeoman’s expression changed instantly from indulgent to wary, and I knew I had touched a fresh wound. “You will have to be much more specific if I am to help you.”

“She told me that Stephen was involved in an enormously expensive lawsuit. If his opponent feared losing the case, he might have had Stephen killed.”

“Ah, yes, you mean the lawsuit, of course,” he said with ill-disguised relief. “It is safe to say that Richard Hooke is not among those grieving Stephen’s death. If he had lost the suit, he would have been ruined.”

I looked at Yeoman in shock. “Stephen was suing Richard Hooke?”

“It was the other way around, actually. Richard sued Stephen. Stephen only returned the favor. It is an immensely complicated case.”

“Do you
know
Richard Hooke?” I asked skeptically.

“I know him well enough. Do you mean to say that you don’t think he was behind the suit?”

“The man is a simpleton,” I replied. “He has neither the intelligence nor the strength to pursue an expensive case.”

To my surprise, Yeoman laughed out loud. “He is that,” he said. “In answer to your question, no, I do not think he is managing the case.”

“Rebecca is.”

“It seems likely. Stephen certainly thought so. If you are bent on finding someone else who might have killed Stephen, Rebecca would be a good start. From what Stephen said, he was on the verge of winning his suit and ruining the Hookes.”

I leapt to my feet, unable to contain my excitement at this news. I had no doubt that Rebecca would resort to murder if she felt her family were on the verge of destruction. I thrilled at the prospect of bringing down Rebecca even as I saved Esther. “Esther also mentioned that Stephen may have thrown in his lot with the rebels,” I said, almost as an afterthought. “She said he was receiving visits at odd hours from strangers to the city.”

Yeoman’s face turned deadly serious and his ice-blue eyes bored into mine. “She told you that.”

I was taken aback by his reaction and sat back down. “She—she worried that he might be conspiring with Parliament’s armies to take the city,” I stammered. What had I said?

“I will tell you right now that he was not involved in any such business,” he said with an air of finality.

“But the men who visited him…,” I protested.

“Do you know why I’m here in York?” he asked.

“It is said that you became disgusted with the wrangling between the King and Parliament and retired from public life. You came to York to escape the war, but it followed you here.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I don’t think you would ever give up power willingly.”

“No, I would not,” he said with a mirthless smile. “And I must profess amazement at the number of people who believe that I did. I came to York at the behest of the city council when it seemed likely that Parliament would attempt to take the city. Because the council is divided between the King’s men and Parliament-men, they worried that under the pressure of a siege, violence might break out within the city itself. Visions of St. Bartholomew’s massacre, I suppose.”

“And they brought you here to prevent that.”

“The council has hired me—at great expense, I might add—to do two things: to mediate divisions within the city so that they do not become violent; and to prevent the rebel armies from sacking the city. So long as the city survives, I don’t care whether the Royalists keep the city or hand it over to the rebels. In that sense I am without political opinion.”

“How does this relate to Stephen’s murder?” I asked, puzzled.

“Since coming here, I have gained each faction’s trust. More importantly, I have spies in each camp, and I would have known if Stephen were involved in any conspiracy. He was not.”

“But what about the visitors?” I asked. “Esther seemed quite sure—”

“Lady Bridget, let me be clear. After yesterday’s attack on the city, the political balance in York is precarious at best. If in the course of your … investigation, you were to spread the rumor that Stephen Cooper had conspired with the rebels in the attack, the repercussions would be disastrous. Such actions would violate the truce I have arranged, and the Royalists would demand retribution. If I could not satisfy them, they would take matters into their own hands, perhaps by killing one of the city’s Parliament-men.” He paused. “Given your brother’s political inclinations, I should be very careful about stirring up this particular hornet’s nest. There is no way of knowing what the effect will be. If violence breaks out, I will be unable to protect you or those you care about.” The threat was clear. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have other business that demands my attention. I’m sure you understand.”