The Midwife's Tale(79)

But as surely as the women needed me, I needed them. Without my work, who would I be? A wealthy widow and nothing more. I would fill my days with visits to other gentlewomen and discuss my options for marriage. I could buy one house in Hereford and another in London and divide each year between city and country. Over time, I could create a household known for its exquisite manners and taste, and women of quality would clamor for the chance to dine at my table. The thought of such an uneventful and powerless existence filled me with dread, for my work as a midwife mattered in a way that mere housewifery never could. I ensured that men who fathered bastards had to pay for their children and that the women who bore them were whipped. If a maiden was raped, who but a midwife would stand with her against her assailant? Who better than a midwife could recognize the signs of bewitchment and find the witch’s mark? Without midwives, lust would reign, and order would turn to chaos. I looked at Abigail and thought of how many of the women I had delivered later became my dear friends. No, I would never give up my work. But what of marriage? Some part of me longed for the happiness I had enjoyed with my first husband. But Phineas taught me the hard lesson that contentment in marriage could not be taken for granted. I preferred the certainty of my work to the unknowns of married life.

“No,” I said. “I don’t think I will.” She nodded and seemed to understand.

When the time came for me to go, I took my leave of Abigail and found Will waiting for me in the parlor. As I crossed the room, he began to laugh.

“My God, Aunt Bridget, how much wine did you have?”

“It is unseemly to mock your elders, Will,” I scolded.

“Here, take my arm. It’s raining and the streets are slick.”

I started to reject his offer, but a look at the steady rain convinced me of its wisdom. With one hand holding his cane and his other supporting me, Will could not even hold his cloak over us, so he draped it over my head and shoulders. Nevertheless, within minutes we both were drenched. I knew my clothes would be soaked by the time we got home, but the cool rain did much to bring me back to my senses.

Just as I began to feel myself again, Will froze and pulled his arm free.

“What is it?” I asked. “Did you see something?” Instead of answering, he twisted the handle of his cane and drew the sword hidden inside.

“Stay behind me,” he whispered. “Somebody’s laying in wait for us in that alleyway.” I began to pray as he raised his sword and stepped toward the shadows of the alley.





Chapter 19


With an unnerving shriek, a dark figure raced toward us. I cried out and stepped backward in hope of avoiding its charge. Will stood his ground, and moments before he was knocked to the ground he lashed out with his sword, and I saw it find its mark. Will sat up and started to scramble to his feet before he noticed that he had just killed a sow. I could not help laughing.

“Well done, Will! The Lord Mayor will be very pleased that someone is taking seriously his injunctions against keeping pigs in the city.”

He smiled ruefully and wiped his sword on the pig’s carcass. He started to speak when I heard the sound of footsteps racing up behind me. My heart leapt in my throat, for I knew this was no pig. I spun around to face our attacker but slipped on the cobblestones and fell to my hands and knees. Will’s sodden cloak fell over my head, and the world went dark. My heart raced as I tried to fight my way out from under the cloak. I heard the bright crash of metal on metal and a shout of pain. A body fell on top of me and pressed me into whatever filth lay in the street. Chest heaving, I clawed my way out from under the cloak and found Will sitting next to me, sword still in hand. He pointed wordlessly, and I saw a figure disappear around a distant corner. Will scrambled to his feet and helped me up, all the while keeping his eyes on the street.

“Aunt Bridget, are you all right?”

“Just a little wet,” I said. “And I cut my hand when I fell. It’s all right. Are you hurt? Your sleeve is covered in blood.”

I checked him for wounds but found none. “It could be the pig’s,” he said. “And I think I cut him before I fell.”

“Did you see who it was?”

Will shook his head. “He covered his face. But he knew how to use a sword.”

“You saved my life, Will. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We need to get home. We can talk when we’re safe.”

We hurried the rest of the way to my house, trying to steer clear of narrower streets and alleys. Will supported me with one hand while keeping his sword in the other. He constantly looked back over his shoulder for fear our attacker would try again. When the guards in front of my house saw our condition, they raced toward us, their pistols drawn.