The Midwife's Tale(59)

“Might he have given it to a business partner for safekeeping?” I asked.

“I told you before that Stephen told me nothing of his business,” she said. “I only knew if things were going well or badly from family prayers in the morning. He saw God’s hand in all things. If a venture proved profitable, he took it as a sign of divine favor and gave thanks. If he failed, it was because he had displeased God, so he begged forgiveness, and attempted to mend his ways.”

It became clear to me that Esther knew nothing of the missing money, so I pushed on.

“Did Stephen ever talk to you of politics?” I asked without much hope.

“Not directly. He prayed about it quite a lot. He constantly begged God to show the King his errors so he would make peace with Parliament, and Popery would be defeated.”

“What were his prayers for the city?”

“He prayed for its safety. He’d heard rumors that the Lord Mayor swore he would burn the city before he surrendered it to the rebels. He said we would be better off if Parliament took it.”

“Is that all?” I asked.

“I wish I knew more,” she said. “Stephen preferred to talk of God rather than trade or politics.”

“What were his prayers like before he died? Did they change at all?”

“They always changed,” she said. “He was always worried about some sin or another: pride, vanity, ingratitude for God’s blessings. He went on and on about secret sins, but that was not new.” Nor is it very helpful, I thought.

“Did he tell you what those sins were?” Martha asked.

“No. Why do you ask?” Her eyes widened as she considered Martha’s question. “You don’t think he might have been murdered for his sins, do you?” I felt a pang of regret at the damage I was doing to her memory of her husband.

“We found a note sent by someone trying to extort money from your husband. Whoever wrote it said they knew of his sins, and promised to keep it a secret if he paid ten pounds.”

Her eyes bulged. “Ten pounds! For what? What did they say he had done?”

“We were hoping you could tell us that,” I said. “Whoever wrote the note seemed to think he’d know.”

“No, I know of no sin!” She was aghast at the thought. “He was the godliest of men.”

“Someone didn’t think so,” Martha interjected. I glared at her. This was not what Esther wanted to hear.

“It must have been a mistake. He could be a hard man, but he loved the Lord.”

“There is another matter I must enquire about.” Esther looked at me warily. “We have heard that Stephen would sometimes whip you.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” she cried out. “You frightened me for a moment, my lady. I was worried you had discovered some terrible secret.”

Now I was confused. “So, Stephen didn’t beat you?” I asked uncertainly.

“After we married he corrected me when I required it, but once I learned his ways he did not have to do so very often,” Esther said. “And he never whipped me excessively or marked my face.” I gazed at her in disbelief. Of course I knew men who beat their wives often, and I knew wives who did not object. I simply had never imagined that Esther was such a sheep. She had further convinced me of her innocence, but I thought less of her as a friend.

“We also heard that Stephen beat you on the night he died.”

Esther’s face turned more serious. “Ellen told you that. Yes, we fought that night, and it was one of our worst. I hit him and he replied in kind.”

“Esther,” I cried in exasperation. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“Because I needed you to believe me! I had already been convicted and sentenced to death. If I told you that I had attacked my husband on the night he died, you would have abandoned me just as everyone else has. I cannot even remember what we quarreled about. It was some small matter that got out of control. I loved Stephen and will have to live the rest of my days knowing that my last words with him were peevish and hateful. Lady Hodgson, I did not kill my husband.”

I gazed at Esther, trying to find some indication of whether she was lying. To my eyes, she seemed to be telling the truth, and if I’d learned nothing else that day, it was that plenty of people wished to see Stephen dead. But I could not ignore her earlier deception or the ease with which Martha had misled me about her own past. I wanted to believe Esther, but I could not stomach the thought of being a murderess’s dupe.

I looked at Martha, unsure where our questions had gotten us. Esther knew Stephen better than anyone, but even if she was telling the truth, she had given us little useful information. Martha and I said our good-byes and asked Esther if she needed anything. She said she wanted for nothing except her husband. I had a hard time believing her, but she seemed sincere. There are some women who want that sort of husband, I suppose. God help them. I knocked on the door and Samuel let us out.