The Midwife's Tale (33 page)

He gazed at me for what seemed like hours but could only have been a few seconds. “How did you figure it out?” he asked. “I thought that with Penrose dead we were safe.”

“I found out that Ellen is with child,” I said, playing for time. “Martha realized Stephen Cooper must have been the father. We just came here to search for evidence.”

Richard looked at Martha closely. “Once again we see that the world has no use for thoughtful servants, does it? It did me no good. See where it got you? Give me the notebook.”

“Richard,” I said, “please, you don’t have to do this.”

“Of course I do,” he said softly. “If I don’t, Ellen and I both will hang. I’m sorry, Lady Hodgson, but I
do
have to do this.”

Richard stepped forward and swung the cudgel at Martha’s head.

Chapter 23

Martha ducked as best she could, but Richard’s club hit the side of her head with a thump. She cried out and tumbled backward onto Richard’s small bed. Richard stepped forward and stood over Martha. I watched in horror as he raised his cudgel to deal the finishing blow. Desperate, I picked up the stool that sat before his desk and hurled it with all my strength. Just before Richard could swing his club, the stool struck the back of his head and he gasped in pain and surprise. He glanced at me before turning back to Martha. When he raised the club again, Martha’s eyes snapped open and she landed a vicious kick between his legs. Richard bellowed in pain and brought the club down with terrifying force. Martha rolled to her left, barely escaping the blow.

By now, Richard seemed more beast than human. His face was purple with rage, and spittle flew from his lips as he roared at Martha. He threw himself on top of her and began to choke her with his left hand. Once again he lifted the club over his head. This time he would not miss. With no other weapons at hand, I hurled myself at Richard, breaking his grip on Martha’s throat and knocking him to the floor. As he fell, he pulled his bookshelf from the wall and I had a weapon. I seized the plank and swung it at his head. The board struck his face with a loud
crack
. I heard a sob escape my throat when the dry wood splintered into a dozen pieces. I had knocked him off balance, but that was all, and it was not going to be enough to save us.

I dropped the splinters I still held and raced for the door. If I made it to the street, I could call for help. I clattered down the stairs, nearly tripping over the hem of my skirts. Even over the thundering of my own heart, I could hear Richard’s heavy footsteps behind me, gaining with every step. By the time I reached the bottom, I knew I would never make it to the street—the counter blocked my way and Richard was too close. I dashed into the workshop and realized with a sickening feeling that I’d made a mistake. The only door out of the shop led to a small, high-walled courtyard. I was trapped.

I turned to face Richard. He saw that I could not escape and stopped in the doorway. He was breathing heavily, and a thin line of blood ran from his nose where I’d hit him. His hands were now empty—he had lost the club when I hit him—and I thanked God for small mercies. He spat on the floor and wiped the blood on his sleeve. “No more running,” he said. “You’ve nowhere to go.”

My eyes darted around the shop as I searched desperately for a weapon. I spied a knife among the shop’s tools and scooped it up. I turned to face Richard, but he was too fast. He threw his weight against me and we crashed to the ground. I watched aghast as the knife skittered across the floor. I clawed at his neck and fought with all my strength to push him off. He sought a grip on my throat, and for a moment I feared he’d found it, but I slipped from his grasp. As we struggled, I looked up into his face, twisted in rage, and knew that this was the last sight that Mr. Penrose had seen. With one hand I pushed up on his throat, and with the other I thrashed about, hoping to find some kind of weapon. My hand closed around the neck of a bottle and I swung. I landed only a glancing blow to his temple, but it was enough to knock him off balance. I scrambled from beneath him and leapt to my feet. I saw the knife and scooped it up, but he was already upon me. Once again he knocked me to the floor and landed on top of me. For a moment we lay on the ground looking into each other’s eyes, in a horrid parody of a lover’s embrace. I could feel his breath on my face as he struggled to wrap his hands around my throat.

I was sure that my luck had run its course and only hoped that Martha would be able to escape. I pushed his hands away and somehow escaped his grasp. Kicking at his face, I crawled away from him, then stood and searched desperately for the knife. It was nowhere to be found. Richard staggered to his feet and grasped my shoulder from behind. I turned to face my death and saw the knife protruding from his chest. He looked down at the knife, then up at me. I stretched out a trembling hand and pulled the knife free. A plume of bright red blood spread rapidly across his chest, and he fell to his knees. He stared into my face for an eternity before falling forward. He died before he hit the ground.

I dropped the bloody knife and raced upstairs to find Martha, terrified that Richard had paused long enough to dash out her brains before pursuing me. Relief flooded my body when I found her standing in the doorway. She had a lump on her forehead and her throat was bright red from where Richard had tried to choke her. “Martha, are you all right?” I asked.

She nodded. “I’ll be all right,” she croaked. “Where is Richard? Did he escape?”

“He’s downstairs. Dead.”

“My God,” she gasped. “What happened?”

“I killed him. I don’t know how it happened, but the Lord watched over me today.” I took her arm to help her downstairs and we went into the workshop. Martha and I gazed at Richard’s body. “It still doesn’t seem real. Last year I bought medicine from him, and today I killed him.”

“And you’ll likely dream about it for some time,” Martha said. “Most nights I dream about the soldier I killed.”

“Martha, I had no idea,” I cried. “How awful.”

“I tell myself it’s better that I’m having the nightmares than he is.” She quickly changed the subject. “How did he get in? I locked the door behind us.”

“He didn’t use the front door.” I pointed to the back door of the shop, which still stood ajar. We stepped into the rear courtyard and looked about. Richard had set up a makeshift camp against one of the high walls surrounding the yard. Blankets lay under a canvas sheet, and a crust of bread sat on a plate, the remnants of his last meal.

“He’s probably been hiding back here since he murdered Penrose,” I said. “Most likely, he and Ellen were just waiting for the opportunity to escape.”

“What should we do now?” she asked.

“Send for the constable, I suppose. He will order Ellen’s arrest.”

“We still have no evidence against her.”

“That won’t matter now. Richard as good as admitted his guilt when he attacked us. And with him dead Ellen will put up little resistance. Or am I wrong about her again?”

“Without him, she will break,” she agreed. “But let’s wait to call the constable. We started this, and we found the truth. I want to see this through to the end. We should bring her here and show her his body. She will answer our questions then.”

I considered her suggestion before nodding in agreement. I had no desire to turn over an unfinished case to the same officials who had made such a mess of it in the first place. If we could prove Ellen’s guilt, we would. I found a basin to wash the blood from my hands, and we went outside. We waved to the guard and he crossed the street to meet us.

“Where now, my lady?” he asked. He looked warily at the marks on Martha’s face and the spots of blood on my dress but held his tongue.

“Martha and I are going to Stephen Cooper’s home,” I said. “I need you to summon the constable and tell him to bring two or three of his men back here.”

“Yes, my lady. You don’t need an escort?”

“It is midday, and the streets are busy enough. Besides, we have no time to waste.” The lad nodded and disappeared up St. Saviorgate. It took only a few minutes for us to reach the Coopers’ home. We knocked on the door, and after a moment Ellen cracked the door and peered out.

“Lady Hodgson, what a surprise!” she said. I looked at her closely, trying in vain to find some sign of the murderess that lay within.

“Hello, Ellen,” I said. “Could you come with us, please?”

She looked at me suspiciously for a moment. “I should stay here, my lady. I have much work to do.” She was not going to make this easy.

“I must insist. It is very important business, touching on your mistress’s fate.” I knew she could hardly refuse this request. She peered up and down the street, as if some passerby might tell her what to do. She furrowed her brow when she saw Martha’s bruises but said nothing. “Now, Ellen.”

“What happened to you?” she asked Martha with a tremor in her voice.

“I fell,” Martha said flatly.

Ellen stepped outside and locked the door behind her. The three of us started toward the Pavement, and Ellen looked around nervously. “Where are we going, my lady?” she asked.

“Just up here,” I said, “to Mr. Penrose’s shop.” She swallowed hard and nodded. She must have known that her plans had gone terribly wrong, but her face remained impassive.

“Why have we come here?” Ellen asked.

“We are meeting some people,” I said evasively.

“I’m afraid I cannot spend the day like this,” she said. “I must return to my mistress’s home.” She started to go, but Martha seized her wrist.

“There is something inside you should see,” she said. “We have discovered evidence that Mrs. Cooper is innocent.”

Ellen gazed at Martha a moment before answering. “She cannot be. She had the poison. She hated Mr. Cooper. He was an evil man.”

“I’ll grant you that he was,” Martha replied. “But that does not make Mrs. Cooper a murderess. Come inside.”

I opened the door and gestured for Ellen to enter. She stepped into the shop and looked around nervously. She likely knew of Richard’s hiding place in the courtyard and worried we had found it. “Let us go into the workshop,” I said.

Ellen walked around the counter and stepped through the doorway. When she saw Richard’s body and his dead eyes, she cried out and fell to her knees. Martha stood over her, watching impassively as her scream turned to a keening wail. “You killed him? Why did you kill him?” she cried.

“I had no choice,” I said. “He was trying to kill me, just as he killed his master.”

A harsh laugh escaped Ellen’s lips. “His master? Do you know how ill Penrose used Richard?”

“I saw the bruises,” I said softly. “Mr. Penrose was not a kind master, but—”

“The bruises?” Ellen interrupted. “You have no idea, do you? The bruises weren’t the half of it.
Mr
. Penrose was a cursed sodomite, and used Richard’s body most unnaturally.” Tears began to stream down her cheeks. “He would come home from the alehouse drunk as a lord, and throw himself on Richard. He swore that if Richard ever complained, he would dismiss him, have him whipped, and ensure he never gained his freedom.
That
was Richard’s master.”

“And Stephen Cooper raped you,” Martha said. “He’s the father of your child, and you poisoned him.”

At the mention of Stephen’s name, Ellen’s face hardened and her tears stopped. “He pretended to be the godliest of men. Family prayer, Bible reading, gadding to sermons. But under it all, he was no less rotten than Penrose.”

“Did Mrs. Cooper know?” I asked.

“No. He was careful. He only summoned me when she was out. He told me that he would deny it if I told her, and then cast me out for lying. I knew he was right—Mrs. Cooper would never believe me. What could I do except submit?”

“And he got you with child,” Martha said.

“It’s funny. Once I was with child, I had proof of his sin, and he lost his power over me.”

“So you demanded money.”

“Richard thought it would be enough to open his own shop. He has relatives in Norfolk. We were going to go there.” She looked down at his body, and once again the tears began to flow. My heart softened, for I knew that her fate was sealed, and she would end her days at the stake.

“Why did you kill him?” I asked. “Why not just take the money?”

She turned to me with a puzzled look on her face. “He drove away Richard, he raped me, threatened me, got me with child … what would you have had me do? The last night he pulled me from my bed while I slept and raped me in the parlor. After he finished he sent me for a glass of milk. ‘I need to cool my blood,’ he said. We hadn’t planned to kill him until after the siege ended, but I had the poison at hand and could not stop myself. I chose to rise up against my master rather than serve him another day.”

“After you killed him, you stole the money and changed the lock,” I said.

She nodded. “We wanted to confuse things until the siege ended.” She looked down at Richard again. “And you ruined it. You ruined it.”

“Then you told Richard we were interested in Lorenzo Bacca.”

“When you said that you would never believe that Mrs. Cooper was guilty, we decided to help you find other suspects. I knew from your reaction when I told you about the Italian’s visit that you suspected him. Richard just led you where you wanted to go. If you’d chased him just a few more days, we would have escaped.”

“The constable will be here soon,” I said. “It is almost time to go.”

“Time to go?” Ellen whispered as if to herself. “Yes, I suppose it is.” Without warning, she seized a large brass pestle from the counter, and as a guttural cry roared from her throat, she swung it at my head. I took a step back, but the blow struck me on the cheek. A bright light flashed before me and I fell to the ground, dazed. “I’ll kill you, you bitch!” she screamed, and stepped toward me with murder in her eyes. “You ruined everything!” I watched the pestle begin its arc toward my head. As it reflected the afternoon sunlight, I could not help admiring its beauty. Just before the pestle would have ended my life, Martha hurled herself between us. I heard a sickening crack as the pestle struck her forearm. She cried out and fell against the counter. Ellen ignored Martha and took another step toward me, her face twisted in rage. She raised the pestle and swung. I rolled to the side and heard the dull thud of the pestle striking the floor next to my head.