The Midwife's Tale(70)

“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.”