“She escaped,” she said.
“No matter,” I said. “We know she was going to the Hookes’ house, so we’ll meet her there. Come, let us hurry. Perhaps we can find her alone and finish this sordid business.”
Chapter 7
The Hookes’ residence stood out from its neighbors on the street. It was no larger than my own house—Rebecca had driven her husband far, but not as far as she’d like—but remarkable attention had been paid to its appearance. The plaster wall reflected the noon-day sun like glass, and even the paving stones outside the house had been scrubbed of dirt. A footman stood outside the front door, prepared to announce any guests, but his main task seemed to be shooing pedestrians away from the door and keeping the entryway clean. A footman was hardly necessary—Edward was far more powerful and did without one—but it sent a message to neighbors and guests: This was a family to be reckoned with, one that had so many visitors they needed a guard, and so much money they could spare a servant to do nothing but stand outside.
As Margaret, Martha, and I approached the door, the manservant saw us coming, but rather than attempting to stop us, he disappeared into the house. Unfazed, we approached the door, and I raised my fist to knock. Before I could, the door flew open, revealing not the footman but Rebecca Hooke herself.
“Ah, Lady Hodgson, how nice of you to visit.” She sneered as she said “Lady,” making clear that she no more considered me a lady than she was glad to see me. I swallowed my anger as best I could, for sharp words would not open any doors. “And who do you have here?” Rebecca continued. “From their clothes, I’d guess a pair of beggars. Shall I have my servant get you a crust of bread?”
Margaret blushed but stood her ground. “We’re here to see my daughter,” she said through clenched teeth.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are, and I have several servants. Perhaps you could be more specific.” Rebecca’s tone made very clear that she knew exactly whom Margaret meant.
“We’re here for Anne Goodwin,” I said. “I spoke to her at the market, and I must have another word with her.”
“Ah, yes, Anne. She is a silly girl,” said Rebecca, ignoring me to stare at Margaret. “She is working at the moment, so you cannot see her. What is the nature of your business?”
“I have heard that she is with child,” I said. “I am here to find out the truth.”
“Surely you are not accusing me of harboring a bastard-bearer.” Her voice was as cold as a tomb. “That would be a grave insult, and not one I would easily forget.”
“I will speak to her, and I will search her body,” I insisted. I tried to sound calm, but I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.
Rebecca drew herself to her full height and stared down at us, her eyes blazing. “Let us see who will be so bold as to view my maid’s body without my permission!” she hissed.
We stood, staring malevolently at each other. Rebecca was unwilling to stand aside, and I refused to retreat when I was so close to finding the truth about Anne’s pregnancy. The standoff was broken by the arrival of Rebecca’s son, James. He was about Will’s age and a handsome boy. If not for his well-earned reputation for stupidity and laziness, Rebecca would have found a wife for him without any trouble. As it stood, York’s leading families would leave their daughters unmarried before they tied them to such a wretch. By the smell of him, he’d come from an alehouse.
“Hello, Mother!” he cried jovially, somehow unaware of the situation into which he had wandered. “Hello, Lady Hodgson,” he said, pronouncing it Hodgshun. “What brings you here?”
I turned to face him, trying to stay between the boy and his mother. “James,” I said sharply. “We’re here because Anne Goodwin is rumored to be with child. Is it true?” The blood drained from James’s face, and his mouth opened and closed like that of a fresh-caught fish. He couldn’t even think of a lie, let alone tell one convincingly. “Tell me the truth, James.”
Without warning, Rebecca pushed me aside and threw herself at her son. Martha caught me before I fell to the ground, and behind me I heard a screech of pain. I turned to see Rebecca dragging her wailing son toward the front door by his ear. She shoved him into the house, then turned back to me.
“Stay away from my house and from my family,” she said. Her eyes were wild with anger and her breath ragged. “I do not need your help to maintain order in my household. If I see you again, you will regret it.”
“I will search Anne’s body,” I said. “I will find out who is the father of her child.” I turned and strode off, hoping that Margaret and Martha would have the good sense to follow. When I was safely away, I turned and found that they had indeed stayed close behind.