“Yes, while she bought salt for her mistress. It was a terrible thing.” I wondered briefly what profit the rebels had from killing her. She was no political animal, yet the rebels slaughtered her just the same. I pushed such dreadful thoughts from my mind. “Up ahead is Swinegate, which will take you to the Shambles. Most of the city’s butchers have their shops there; it is a stinking place.”
Soon enough we reached my home, and Hannah let us in. I had a small meal and read in the Bible for a time. Before retiring, I called for Hannah.
“Susan Dobson’s churching is tomorrow afternoon, and there will be a supper afterwards. Be sure that one of my best dresses is ready. And tell Martha to make sure that her dress is clean. I’ll take her with me.” She curtsied and disappeared downstairs.
Churchings occasioned much gossip, and I had no doubt that the chief topic of conversation at the feast would be Stephen Cooper’s murder. As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered what new rumors would have appeared by then. I never suspected, of course, that gossip exchanged in Susan’s parlor soon would lead me to another murder, this one even more pitiful than Cooper’s.
Chapter 5
I awoke Monday morning to the sound of footsteps in the hallway and, still half-asleep, I rolled over to make room for Birdy. Even as I moved, I realized the steps could not be Birdy’s, and I was overcome by melancholy. Until the day she died, Birdy joined me in my bed every morning as soon as she awoke. For many years, I’d begged her just to lie still and perhaps go back to sleep, but I could not recall her ever doing so. As soon as her eyes opened, Birdy’s mind went to work, deciphering the world around her. Such work was neither quiet nor solitary. I prayed for strength, for God to take from me my pain, but on this morning He denied me. Reluctantly, I rose and picked up a second drawing of Birdy, one I kept on the table by my bed. In the early morning light, her features were indistinct, but I did not need to see them, for each one, from the shape of her brow, to the curve of her nose, to the line of her mouth, would stay with me until I breathed my last.
After my tears had stopped, I called Hannah. As she dressed me, I heard someone rapping on the front door. I sighed and tried to think which of my regular clients were far enough along to be going into labor. I went down and was happy to find not a servant calling me to a labor, but my nephew Will. I crossed the parlor to embrace him and was struck simultaneously by the richness of his clothes and the distress evident in his face. Whatever the clothes meant, his visage made clear that his visit was not for pleasure.
“Aunt Bridget, I know you came to my father regarding the death of Stephen Cooper, and that you know his wife. I wanted to bring you this news in person.” He paused. I almost told him that I knew that Stephen had been murdered, but something in his voice made me hold my tongue. His news went beyond the murder itself.
“The surgeon says that Mr. Cooper was murdered by poison,” he continued. “After my father discovered this, he ordered the constable to search his home. I went with him to oversee the search. The maid helped them with the search and she discovered a vial of ratsbane hidden in Esther Cooper’s clothes chest. Aunt Bridget, Esther killed him. The constable arrested her, and took her to the Castle.”
I sat abruptly and tried to absorb what my nephew had told me. Esther, a murderess? It seemed impossible—for all his faults, I knew that she loved Stephen. My eyes drifted to Phineas’s portrait, and I had the most absurd thought: I had lived with Phineas without killing him; surely Esther could have tolerated Stephen.
“How can you be so sure it was her?” I asked.
“The apothecary and surgeon agreed that ratsbane killed Mr. Cooper, and we found the vial in her chest. She had hidden it there.”
“Did she confess?”
“Not yet, I don’t think. As they took her to gaol, she sobbed and protested her innocence. She might have confessed since. I don’t know how hard they’ve pressed her.”
“God save us,” I said. I sat in silence, trying to imagine why Esther would poison her husband’s milk and then hide the poison in her own chamber. Even if Stephen had driven her to kill, he surely hadn’t made her into an idiot.
“Will, is that the only evidence you have? That the poison was in her chamber?”
“The neighbors said that they fought,” he said. Before I could object, he continued. “There is more news than this. She’ll be tried tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? With that evidence? You must be jesting! And who will oversee the trial? The city is under siege. Has the Lord Mayor smuggled an assize judge into the city?”