“Hannah! Tell Martha I will see her now.”
Chapter 11
Martha entered the parlor and looked at me nervously. I saw no point in drawing things out. “Martha, I am going to keep you on as my servant.” As soon as the words passed from my lips, she looked up in relief, and I knew I had made the right decision. She wiped away nascent tears and struggled to speak.
“Thank you, my lady,” she said once she had gained control of herself. “I know that this is not an easy choice, and that you must harbor some doubts. I will not disappoint you.”
“I know you won’t,” I said. “But there is still one problem we must address.”
“My brother.”
“Yes. Do you think he knows where you are living now?”
“I don’t know. I made sure I wasn’t followed when I left the market, but that’s no guarantee. Even if he doesn’t know where you live, he’s sure to make enquiries. He’s a resourceful rogue.”
“We have to plan as if he knows you are here and is intent on doing us both harm. You know him best—what do you think he will do?”
“There is no chance we’ve seen the last of him. He knows of your wealth, so his first priority will be to rob you. If he kills me in the process, that would be all the better.” She took the prospect of being murdered by her own brother with more aplomb than I would have. “The house is busy enough that he won’t bother waiting until it is empty to burgle it. He will either try to break in at night, as we did with Mr. Holdsworth, or…” She paused, putting herself in her brother’s place. “No. He will bide his time to see what happens with the siege. If the city is taken, he will use the chaos and lawlessness to rob you in broad daylight. I imagine he’d have little trouble finding a few accomplices—he probably already has. They could break in, ransack the house, kill everyone they find, and then disappear. It would just be a particularly bloody episode from the pillaging of the town. He will break in on his own only if the rebels abandon the siege. He’s a violent man in the heat of battle, but when he is planning a robbery he can be patient.”
I considered this. If she was right, the soldiers who had repelled the rebel assault also delayed Tom’s attack on my house. “Of course, knowing what Tom is likely to do is only half the battle,” I said. “We have to figure out how to protect ourselves.” I thought for a moment. “I assume that if Tom is captured, he will tell the Justices about your history together?”
“The truth would be bad enough, but by the time he finished his story, I’d be hanged three times over.”
“Then we’ll have to be discreet,” I said. “I know men in the trained bands who could be of help.” I felt sure that with the cost of food so high, Sergeant Smith and a few of his men would be happy to earn a few shillings by guarding my house. I quickly wrote a letter explaining my situation and dispatched Hannah to deliver it.
Not long after, a stone-faced bailiff appeared at my door with the summons I’d been expecting ever since my visit to the Castle. “Lady Hodgson, the Lord Mayor requires your presence immediately,” he said as he handed me the letter. “I will accompany you.”
My heart sank at his announcement, for I’d hoped to spend the afternoon searching Stephen Cooper’s study. I considered protesting, but I knew the Lord Mayor would not accept any excuses. I called Martha and told her where I would be going. “Hannah will be home shortly, and I shouldn’t be long.” I glanced at the bailiff, hoping to confirm that my visit would be a short one, but his face remained impassive.
I followed the bailiff across the Ouse into Micklegate, where the Lord Mayor kept his residence. I noted with a smile that while he and Edward were miles apart in their political outlook, they lived just a stone’s throw from each other. When we approached the Lord Mayor’s home, the two guards in front snapped to attention. The bailiff did not bother knocking as he led me in. Perhaps half a dozen men sat in the Lord Mayor’s parlor, waiting, I imagined, to petition the Lord Mayor for some favor or another. The bailiff did not even pause but led me straight through to the rear of the house, where the Lord Mayor conducted business.
“Wait here,” he said, then knocked on a heavy door and slipped inside. A few seconds later, he emerged and held the door open for me. “The Lord Mayor will see you.” I took a deep breath to steady myself and entered.
The first thing I noticed was the outsized portrait of King Charles hanging above the Lord Mayor’s desk. It sent an unambiguous message that the Lord Mayor was the King’s man and no one else’s. The Lord Mayor himself sat directly beneath the portrait behind a large desk piled high with papers. Ruling a city such as York was no easy task in peacetime—I could only imagine how difficult the siege had made the job. He stood when I entered, and I could tell by his aspect that my finding that Esther was with child had infuriated him to no end. He was a tall man and took full advantage of his height by crossing the room to look down at me.