The Midwife's Tale (22 page)

“My Lord, Aunt Bridget,” Will said, wiping away a tear. “I’ve never seen that side of you before.”

“Something I learned from Martha. I told you she had more than a few useful skills.”

“Mr. Yeoman will see you, my lady.” The servant had returned.

“That is very kind of you,” I said as Will and I followed him to Yeoman’s office.

*   *   *

Yeoman sat behind his desk, but this time he gave me his full attention as soon as I entered. I wondered if he might reprimand me for abusing his servant, but he chose to ignore my offense. “Have you really read Stephen’s diary?” he asked angrily. “If you’re lying, you’ve made a terrible mistake.” Only then did he notice that Will had followed me in. “Who is this?” He looked Will over, his eyes lingering on his cane, though what he made of it I could not tell. “You must be Lady Hodgson’s nephew. I hear your brother Joseph is serving with Cromwell. It is good that one of you can fight. I imagine that he will inherit your father’s power, too. That’s probably for the best.” He glanced again at Will’s cane, and a cruel smile touched the corners of his mouth. I wondered if, in his youth, Yeoman had tormented lame boys the same way that Will had been. If so, I hoped he received a beating or two for his trouble. I could tell from Will’s face that he recognized Yeoman’s scorn. Tears of anger came to Will’s eyes, and my heart ached for the pain I knew he felt. “Mr. Hodgson,” Yeoman said suddenly, “please leave the room.” Will looked shocked by the order and found himself caught between the obedience demanded by Yeoman’s voice and his own wounded pride. “Go,” Yeoman repeated. Without a word, Will left.

“Will knows what I’ve found,” I said. “There was no reason for you to do that.”

“I don’t care what you’ve told him,” Yeoman said with a sneer. “He is weak in body. I cannot trust him. He can wait with your servant. Now, you said that you saw Stephen’s diary. I don’t know what you think it tells you, but I will answer a few of your questions.”

“I want to know why you lied to me.”

Yeoman burst into harsh laughter. “Why I lied to you? Do you hear yourself, woman? The better question would be why I ever stooped so low as to meet with you. I could have saved us both time and trouble by sending you away from the first.” I tried to speak, but he did not give me the chance. “I lied to you for the sake of the city. I lied to you because you are a woman meddling in matters that do not pertain to you. I lied to you so that you would not put yourself in any greater danger than you already have.”

“Danger from Lorenzo Bacca?”

He looked at me in surprise. “So you’ve met our Italian friend? Yes, he is the reason I urged you to keep your nose out of political matters. He certainly might have killed Stephen, and he would not hesitate to kill you if he came to see you as a threat. The Lord Mayor is desperate and dangerous—you should be very careful not to anger him.”

“And I suppose that is why you told me that Stephen had nearly won his suit against the Hookes? You hoped I would miss his political entanglements entirely.”

“Believe it or not, I had your best interests at heart. I still believe that Rebecca is behind Stephen’s death, and however cruel she is, Rebecca is far less likely to kill you than Lorenzo Bacca. If you find proof that the Hookes were not involved, come back to see me. We can then discuss the best course of action.” I realized that Yeoman was not only pushing me back toward the Hookes, but trying to take control of the investigation altogether. I decided to turn the tables on him.

“And whose interests did you have in mind when you threatened to kill Stephen?” I asked innocently.

Yeoman froze and stared at me in silence. I could see him trying to figure out how much I knew and what game I might be playing. “He wrote that in his diary, did he? He would. Even when they are on the verge of victory, the Puritans see persecution and martyrdom at every turn.”

“He wrote it, but others in the household heard it as well,” I lied. “If the Lord Mayor had seen fit to ask Esther, she could have told him, too. In our first meeting you told me that you came to York to prevent the sacking of the city. We both know that Stephen was trying to aid the rebels in doing just that. I think you would have killed Stephen to stop his plans. What is one man’s life compared to the hundreds or thousands who would perish if the city were taken by force of arms?”

“If I thought that killing Stephen would save the city, I would have done so without hesitation,” he said bluntly. “But I did not.”

“It is interesting that you say that because Lorenzo Bacca made the same claim. And while I’ve not asked her, I imagine that Rebecca Hooke would give a similar answer.”

“You may go.”

I stood and started for the door. Before opening it, I turned back and found Yeoman staring at me balefully. “Mr. Yeoman, I will find out who murdered Stephen Cooper, whether it was Bacca and the Lord Mayor, Rebecca Hooke, or you yourself.”

“You can play at constable all you want,” Yeoman snarled. “But you should realize that it is a dangerous game. I will
not
be brought down by a mere woman.”

“We will see,” I said, and left the room. I could feel my heart pounding as I made my way back to the parlor. I knew I had made an enemy of a very powerful man. The only question was how far he would go in order to protect himself.

Chapter 16

I found Will in the parlor, staring blankly at the wall. I could see the muscles in his jaw working as he clenched his teeth, trying to contain his fury over his treatment at Yeoman’s hands. He knew better than to vent his anger before we had left the premises. Moments later, Martha joined us and we started home. When Martha and I turned off of Stonegate onto my street, Will stopped.

“I have other business to attend to,” he said. “I will call on you tomorrow.”

“Martha, go on ahead. I need to talk to Will for a moment.” Sensing the tension, she curtsied and went without a word. “Will, please,” I said. “Come inside, at least for a while.” From the look in his eyes, I knew that if he left now, he would seek redemption in an alehouse brawl.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll be all right. I just need to…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t know what he needed.

“You can’t allow men like Yeoman to hurt you so.”

“Men like Mr. Yeomen rule England,” he said. He spoke with the bitterness of a man robbed of his birthright. “They always have and always will. They think that because I am weak in body, I must be weak in mind. I even see it in my father’s eyes sometimes.”

“Will!” I cried. “Your father loves you!”

“Of course he does,” Will spat. “But Yeoman is right—Joseph is his favorite, and when he comes back from the wars, my father will push me back into the shadows. He will make sure Joseph becomes an Alderman, Lord Mayor, and perhaps even a Member of Parliament. I will stay here in York, take up the wool trade, living and dying as a man of no consequence. No matter what my father says, I am a disappointment and he is ashamed of himself for fathering a cripple.”

“Will, don’t say such things,” I begged.

“Why ever not?” he cried. “You and Uncle Phineas were the only ones who never seemed embarrassed by me. But Uncle Phineas is dead, and you’re just…” He stopped himself too late.

I drew myself up and stared into his eyes. “I’m what, Will? I’m just a woman?” I could feel the blood rising in my face.

“Aunt Bridget, you know what I mean,” he protested.

“Yes, I think I do,” I said. “A few moments ago, I had almost the same conversation with Charles Yeoman, so I know exactly what you mean—he feels the same way.” Will tried to interrupt, but I would not let him. “Perhaps the two of you are more alike than either of you realizes. It is a shame that
this
is the lesson you learned from a lifetime of abuse by men like Yeoman.”

I turned on my heel and strode away. Will called after me, apologizing, but anger deafened me to his entreaties. I tried to compose myself, for however much Will’s words hurt me, I knew that he had lashed out in pain rather than malice. None could deny Yeoman’s cruelty, but he had not so much opened a new wound as ripped up an old one; Edward had been the first to cut into Will’s flesh. However much I denied it, Joseph
was
Edward’s favorite and always would be. Joseph had the richer clothes, the finer horses, and Edward gave him ever more responsibility in both business and politics. The fact that Joseph fought while Will stayed home would only make matters worse in the future. I could never say anything to Edward or even admit the truth to Will; Edward would deny it, and Will would be crushed. All I could do was care for Will as best I could and help him become a good man in a world dominated by bad ones.

Martha met me at the door. I asked her to pour a glass of wine for each of us and join me in the parlor. When she returned, she gave me a glass and looked at me expectantly.

“What did Mr. Yeoman have to say?” she asked.

“Nothing that made things any clearer. He admits that he lied to us about Stephen’s connection to the rebels, but warned us against pursuing that line of inquiry.”

“And what did he say when you asked him about Mr. Cooper’s diary? I can’t imagine he was happy that we know about his threats.”

“He warned me off again. He said he would not be brought down by a woman,” I said. “I don’t think he’s as dangerous as Lorenzo Bacca, but I would hate to be proven wrong.”

Martha sat back and gazed up at the ceiling. “Everyone connected to the case has lied to us or threatened to kill you,” she said. “Mr. Yeoman, the Lord Mayor’s man, even Mrs. Cooper.”

“How do you find the truth when nobody will speak it?” I asked. We sat in silence, each seeking a new approach to the case.

Martha’s eyes suddenly lit up and she jumped to her feet. “The ratsbane!” she cried.

“What do you mean?”

“Rather than focusing on the suspects, we can focus on the evidence.” I shook my head, still not following her thinking. “We start with the ratsbane. With York under siege, it likely came from inside the city. If we find the apothecary who sold the ratsbane, all the lies in the world won’t hide the truth.”

“There are only a handful of apothecaries in York,” I said. “We can enquire who bought ratsbane in the days before the murder. By itself, it wouldn’t prove Esther’s innocence, but it might tell us which of our other suspects to investigate.”

“Of course, we could discover that
she
bought ratsbane just before her husband’s death,” Martha pointed out.

I paused and considered the prospect of proving Esther’s guilt even as I worked on her behalf. “I still do not believe she is guilty.”

“And if she is?”

“Then she should die,” I replied, unsure if I really meant it. I knew that blood cried out for blood, but I could not envision Esther’s execution. I pushed the thought aside and reminded myself that the Esther I knew was no murderess. “Whatever the case, tomorrow I shall send letters to the apothecaries I know and see what they can tell us.”

“We can use the bottle,” Martha said. “The officers found the ratsbane in a glass vial, which probably came from the apothecary who sold it. If we take the bottle from shop to shop, someone might recognize it. Do you think your brother has it?”

“If he doesn’t, he will know who does,” I said. “I’ll send for it immediately, and in the morning we can begin our search.”

I sent Hannah to Edward with a letter explaining our plan. I knew he would not be happy with my request, since it could only complicate matters. I could only hope that he’d not yet expiated his guilt for concealing so much information about Stephen’s murder. Apparently he had not, for an hour later Hannah returned carrying a small cloth bag containing a bottle of fine powder. I called for Martha, and together we examined it.

“There are no marks on it,” I said in disappointment, “nothing to help us identify the seller.”

“Do all apothecaries use bottles such as this one?” she asked.

“No. Different sellers use different vials for their poisons, so if we find an apothecary who uses these bottles, we’ll be one step closer to finding the killer. We’ll set out tomorrow morning.”

That night I prayed for the nation, city, my household, and especially for Will. But my prayers put me in mind of Will’s lament for England’s present state, and I found myself overcome with sadness. What were his words? “’Tis all in pieces, all coherence gone”? I hoped his dark vision would not come to pass, but I could see no happy resolution to the troubles we had created.

*   *   *

To my surprise, I awoke Saturday morning to a knock on my door. Hannah stood in the doorway.

“What is it, Hannah? Is everything all right?”

“My lady, a servant is here with a message from Elizabeth Wood.”

I felt my stomach sink, for this could only mean that her boy had died. He had been so sickly that I was not surprised, but I had held out hope. My heart ached for her, for I knew all too well the pain she now felt.

“Please have her wait in the parlor, and then come help me dress.” She curtsied and left. I lay in bed a while longer, saying prayers for the dead child, for Elizabeth, and for her husband. This was the first infant I had lost since Michael died, and I knew that the day would be full of sad mementos of his death and burial.

Hannah returned to help me wash and dress, and then I went downstairs. Before going to the parlor to see Elizabeth’s maid, I called for Martha. She had been part of the child’s delivery and would be a part of his burial. We found Elizabeth’s maidservant standing in the parlor, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. When she saw me, she curtsied and kept her eyes lowered when she spoke.

“My mistress sent me,” she said quietly. “Her baby died last night.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Martha’s face crumple, which only compounded my own grief.

I took a shallow breath, worried that I would start to cry. “When will they bury him?” I asked.

“This afternoon. Mr. Wood just sent word to the priest.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Please return to your mistress, and tell her we will be there soon.”

“Did she give him a name?” asked Martha.