The Midwife's Tale (24 page)

I recalled the lifeless body of the child we’d found in the privy and thought of Elizabeth Wood’s grief at losing Ben. My hand shot up, clamped on the girl’s throat, and squeezed. “You’re famous for your lewd carriage, and your neighbors say you were with child this winter. You had the child and you threw him away.”

Desperate, the girl clawed my hand away. “There is no baby, I swear!” she cried.

Susan stepped between me and the girl. “Then you’ll not mind if Lady Hodgson searches your body, will you?” At this, the girl froze. “If you don’t allow her,” Susan continued, “we’ll return with more women to help, and I’ll give Lady Hodgson a free hand. If you have any secrets, we
will
find them out.” The girl’s fear turned to resignation, and the fight left her body.

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” she said defensively.

“Show me your breasts,” I said. She loosened her bodice and I pulled it aside to reveal her nipples. I squeezed them, but no milk came. I squeezed them harder, and she cried out, but they still produced no milk. “Lift your skirts,” I said. She hesitated a moment and then hiked them up to her waist. She was no maiden—I could tell she had the French pox on her—but I also could see that she had not given birth recently. I bade her lower her skirts. “Let’s go,” I said to Susan.

“It’s not her child,” Susan said as we left the alehouse.

“No,” I said. “She may well have given birth, but not recently.”

“Have you heard of any other pregnant maids?” she asked. “Surely a woman couldn’t have carried and then borne a child without anyone noticing, not in the city. Might it have been a wench from the garrison? Or one of the whores?” She clearly was not going to give up her search for the murderer.

“I have my suspicions, but cannot say.”

Susan stopped and stared at me. “If you know something, you must tell me and the other women,” she insisted. Gossip of this sort was not meant to be kept, for it was the key to finding the mother.

“I cannot, at least not yet. My suspicions touch on a powerful family. If I make them public and am proven wrong, it would destroy me.”

“And if you are right?”

“It will be a scandal that sets the town alight.”

“Then I’ll wait,” she said. “But if you need my help, do not hesitate to call for me. I will do whatever I can.”

I thanked Susan and started for home. I had just turned off Stonegate when I heard a lilting voice from behind me. “Lady Hodgson, I would like a word with you.” I felt my stomach sink, for I knew from the accent that Lorenzo Bacca had come for me. I spun around as he stepped out of the doorway in which he’d been standing. He had chosen the location well—I had rounded the bend from Stonegate, and my own house was not yet in sight. We were as alone as we could be at midday in York. I considered screaming in hope that a neighbor or the guard from my house would hear me, but if Bacca had come to kill me, any help would arrive too late.

“Mr. Bacca,” I said. “What a surprise to see you on this side of the river.”

“I go wherever the Lord Mayor needs me,” he said with a shrug.

“And he sent you here today?” I peered in the direction of Stonegate, hoping that a passerby might appear and give me the chance to escape from Bacca, but none did.

“He is worried. He knows that you visited Mrs. Cooper again, and the time he gave you has nearly passed. He wonders why he has not yet received a letter from you. I believe he genuinely hoped that you would see the error in your examination.” He must have seen me looking toward Stonegate, for he laughed softly. “Do not worry, Lady Hodgson, I am not here to punish you for failing to obey his commands. Not yet. If that were the Lord Mayor’s intention, I would not waste time with idle conversation. You would be dead already.” The casualness with which he discussed my murder chilled my blood, but I resolved that I would not be intimidated.

“Mr. Bacca, I have been a midwife for many years now, and you may tell the Lord Mayor that I did not make a mistake.”

“For your sake, I do not think that I should tell him that,” he said. “I take no pleasure in threatening a woman such as yourself, but the truth of the matter is that you are putting yourself in considerable danger.”

“Is that what you told Stephen Cooper?” I asked.

Bacca raised an eyebrow. “I wonder how you heard about that. I don’t imagine he told his wife.” He snapped his fingers. “He kept a diary, didn’t he? You Puritans are so predictable. With no priests to hear your confession, you tell an empty book. In truth, I find it quite pathetic.”

“You can deny your role in Stephen’s death, but I
will
find out who killed him.”

“I do not doubt your intention,” he said. “But the Lord Mayor insists that the murderess has been convicted and sentenced. He will not look kindly on your attempts to undermine Mrs. Cooper’s trial.”

“Tell him that my verdict will not change.”

A wistful look crossed Bacca’s face. “I told him that you would say that. He does not understand women, I do not think. I will give him the message, but I warn you that his reaction could be quite violent indeed. And I will tell you now that the guard at your door will do you no good.”

“I will be careful of myself.”

“I am afraid that it would not be enough. Mr. Cooper was careful, and look at what happened to him.”

“Good-bye, Mr. Bacca.”

“Good-bye, Lady Hodgson. I do hope you come to your senses. I should hate to become your enemy. But that may happen before long. This is your last warning.”

Somehow Bacca’s farewell struck me as both sincere and terrifying. With hands shaking, I turned away from Bacca and took the final few steps to my home. When I arrived, the guard at the door doffed his cap and bade me good day, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. I supposed, from his perspective, nothing had. I could hardly reprimand him for not knowing about Bacca, but I made a note not to walk alone if I could possibly help it.

When I entered the house, I found Martha waiting for me at the front door.

“Hannah said you had gone in search of the murdered infant’s mother,” she said. I could not be sure, but I thought I heard a tone of reproach in her voice. I explained what had happened and that we still had no clues as to the mother’s identity. I decided not to tell her about my encounter with Bacca. It would do nothing but worry her, and he did not seem to know about her role in the investigation. “Do you still think the child in Coneystreet belonged to Anne Goodwin?” Martha asked.

“I don’t know. It certainly could be, but unless we find Anne, we will never know for sure. The midwives and matrons will continue to look.”

“If we are going to the apothecaries, we should leave soon.”

I agreed, and after a quick meal we set out for the parish of All Saints, Pavement. A number of apothecaries kept their shops there, and they were the ones closest to the Coopers’ house. The trip to All Saints also took us nearer the rebel guns, and in the distance we could hear the thump as they lobbed cannonballs into the city. The first apothecaries we visited had not sold any ratsbane in at least two weeks, and neither recognized the bottle we showed them.

We reached the third shop on the street, which, according to the neatly painted sign hanging above the door, belonged to Thomas Penrose. As I reached for the handle, the door swung open to reveal Ellen Hutton, the Coopers’ maidservant.

“Ellen,” I exclaimed. “It is good to see you again. How are you?”

“Very well, my lady,” she said, bowing her head.

“What brings you here?” I asked. “I hope you are not unwell.”

She shook her head and held up two small envelopes. “I came for some herbs from Mr. Penrose. The nearness to the river has given Mrs. Cooper a cough, and the apothecary recommended I send her these.”

“You are a faithful girl, Ellen,” I said. “Have you given any more thought to your future?”

“Yes, my lady. I have found a family in St. Gregory that will take me in if I need a position. They seem very kind. If Mrs. Cooper allows me, I will start in a fortnight.” I congratulated Ellen on her new position, and we parted ways. Unless our search for whoever had purchased the ratsbane led us to the killer, I could not imagine Esther coming home before Ellen left.

We entered the shop, and to my surprise I found a familiar figure behind the counter. It was not the apothecary, but his apprentice, Richard Baker. I had met Richard a few years before, when he had been apprentice to an apothecary I frequented. Unfortunately for Richard, his master died the previous winter, less than a year before he would have gained his freedom. I was happy to see that he had found a new home. He glanced up when we entered and nodded curtly to me but continued to carefully measure herbs into a mortar for crushing. If the jars before him were any indication, the medicine he made was complex indeed, including cinnamon, thyme, hyssop, dittany, mugwort, and burdock. I looked more closely and saw that Richard and his new master must have had their differences, for his face was covered with bruises. While some had begun to fade, others were quite recent—they were the result of a series of beatings, not a single fight.

The small shop was impeccably clean, and it seemed clear to me that Penrose was lucky to have found such a hardworking and careful lad. I could not help wondering why he treated Richard so harshly. Once Richard had measured out the herbs to his satisfaction, he set the mortar aside. I realized with a start that the bottles that lined the shelf behind him were identical to the one that contained the ratsbane. I glanced over at Martha and could tell from her face that she’d seen them, too. Well, I thought, at least we have solved that part of the mystery.

“Lady Hodgson!” Richard said with genuine enthusiasm when he turned to us. “What a pleasant surprise. Are the apothecaries on your side of the city no longer meeting your needs? I’m quite sure that Mr. Penrose and I can help.”

“Richard, how are you? I’m pleased that you found another master after Mr. Samuels’s death. How are things here?”

Richard’s face clouded for a moment and I saw a flash of anger in his eyes, but he regained himself. “I’m nearly finished with my apprenticeship,” he said with a shrug. “Then I shall have freedom, and all will be well. I do hope you will consider bringing me your business when I have a shop of my own.”

“Of course,” I said, meaning it. “At the moment, though, I am looking for your master. I have some questions for him.”

“He is not in right now,” he said. “Perhaps I can help you.”

“Perhaps,” I said. “Tell me, Richard, how much time do you spend minding the shop?” He was confident and competent, and I had a feeling that the shop was more his than Penrose’s. It was all too common for an unscrupulous master to abandon the education of his apprentice and let the poor lad run the shop on his behalf.

“Mr. Penrose has many concerns outside of his shop,” he said, trying not to meet my eyes. “I help his customers as best I can.” He was a terrible liar, and his response only confirmed my suspicions.

“I am curious whether Charles Yeoman has ever come to the shop.”

“If he has, I don’t know him. But some customers choose not to give their name, and York has many strangers.”

“I understand. Do you know Rebecca Hooke?”

“Yes, my lady, from her days as a midwife.” If he knew my role in driving her from the profession, he gave no indication. “But I’ve not seen her in months.”

“What about an Italian?” Martha asked. “He goes by the name of Bacca?”

At this Richard perked up. “I don’t know his name, but an Italian came in last week, looking for Mr. Penrose. He had a scar on his face, like this.” He drew a line along the left side of his face.

“Did he buy any ratsbane?” I asked. I was quite sure my face betrayed my excitement.

“Not from me, my lady.” He seemed surprised at the question. “But as I said, he wanted to speak to Mr. Penrose in person. It would be irregular, but he may have bought some outside the shop.” We would have to find Penrose, then, and the sooner the better.

“Has anyone else purchased ratsbane in the days since the suburbs burned?”

“Nobody, my lady. We have not sold any ratsbane in some weeks. Or at least I haven’t.”

“Do you have any?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. “However, we keep it locked in the back. When I first came to Mr. Penrose there were some … unfortunate errors.” I looked at him in shock. A mistake with ratsbane could be dangerous indeed. “Nobody was hurt,” he added quickly. “Not seriously.
I
saw to that. One of the soldiers just got a bit worse before he got better. I moved the ratsbane and other dangerous powders so it could not happen again. When Mr. Penrose returns, may I tell him what the matter is?”

“Thank you, Richard, no. But can you tell me where I might find him? I need to speak to him in person.”

“You might try the Black Swan on Peasholme Green,” he said. “It is across the street from St. Anthony’s Hall. He is frequently there.” The Black Swan was an alehouse, not far from the shop. St. Anthony’s had been a workhouse for the poor but now was occupied by the King’s forces, who used it as a hospital, armory, and prison. I imagined that the garrison provided the Black Swan with plenty of customers and wondered why an apothecary would spend his time in such a disreputable house. Whatever the reason, I lamented Richard’s misfortune to find himself with so dissolute and cruel a master. I looked again at the bruises that covered Richard’s face and realized that I could help him just as I had offered to help Ellen.

“Richard, when will you earn your freedom?” I asked.

“Just after Michaelmas in October,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“Have you the money to start up your own shop yet?”

“I have saved some,” he said. “I can only hope that Mr. Penrose will find it in his heart to loan me the rest.” I looked again at his bruises. I think we both knew this was a fond dream.

“Richard,” I said, “if you need a loan, I will give it to you.”

“My lady!” he cried. “I … I don’t know what to say. I cannot…”

“Don’t decline just yet,” I said, enjoying his reaction. “It would be better to take a loan from me than to put off opening your shop. You
do
intend to stay in York, don’t you?”