The Midwife's Tale(81)

“How are you, Aunt Bridget?”

“Alive,” I said with a wan smile. “After last night, I could not ask for much more. Thank you again.” Will nodded, and his ears turned a bit pink. It seemed that playing the hero embarrassed him. “Dare I ask if you are prepared to rejoin the fray? We’ll go to Penrose’s shop immediately.”

He stood up, pleased at the prospect. “Of course. The sooner we find the killer, the safer you’ll be.”

By the time we arrived in the Pavement, all of the neighboring shops had opened for business, but we found Penrose’s locked up tight. I rapped loudly on the door but received no answer. Will stepped forward and pounded on the door with nearly enough force to shake it from its hinges. While neither Penrose nor Richard Baker appeared, he did get the attention of the tailor in the shop next door.

“If you’re looking for Mr. Penrose, your man will have to pound even harder than that.” He was a thin, nervous man, with the disconcerting habit of constantly looking back over his shoulder, as if someone might attack at any moment.

“Why is that?” I asked.

“I’ve not seen him in days. He’s hardly ever around. He lets his apprentice run things. Then he beats the poor lad for even the slightest mistake. Someone ought to report him to the guild. But it’s none of my affair, really. The other apothecaries have said nothing. Quite shameful.” He shook his head disapprovingly. He suddenly turned his attention to Will.

“That is a passably fine suit of clothes,” he said.

Will looked at him blankly for a moment. “Er … thank you,” he ventured.

“But a gentleman such as yourself certainly deserves better.” He took Will by the arm and started pulling him into the shop. “I am George Cawton, and I think that when you see the fabrics I have on hand, you will agree that these clothes are mere rags.” Will looked at me helplessly.

“Have you seen his apprentice?” I interrupted. “We are on urgent business.”

“Richard?” he asked. “The constable was here. He took him away.”

“What?” I cried. “When was this?”

“Not long ago. He was just here.”

“Did the constable arrest him?” Will asked, struggling to escape Cawton’s grasp. “Where did they go?”

“I don’t think Richard was arrested,” he said. “He just went. None of my business, really.” Undeterred by Will’s efforts to escape, Cawton continued to drag him toward his shop. “Now, just a few more steps and we’ll be there.”

“Where did the constable take Richard?” Will asked.

“I told you. He didn’t take him anywhere. He wasn’t under arrest.” Will’s face turned an alarming shade of purple.

“Where did Richard and the constable go?” I interjected, hoping to keep Will from throttling the poor man.

“That way. Towards St. Saviorgate.”

I looked at Martha. “The Black Swan?” I asked.

“Yes, that’s it,” Cawton interjected. “I can’t imagine why the constable would want to take Richard there, but that’s what he said.”

Martha saw the look of concern on my face and answered my question before I could ask. “I’m coming with you. Will is with us, and if the constable is already there, we’ll be fine. Tom is violent, not stupid.”

Will extricated himself from Cawton’s grip and the three of us walked quickly toward Peasholme Green. As soon as the Black Swan came into sight, I knew that something was amiss. As usual, soldiers stood in front, but they were alert and on the lookout for trouble rather than stumbling about in a drunken haze. When we approached the door, a young lieutenant stepped forward to intercept us.

“I’m sorry, my lady, the alehouse is closed.”

Before I could answer, Will intervened. “Do you really think that Lady Hodgson is coming to this … establishment for pleasure?” Still frustrated by his conversation with the tailor, he made no effort to guard his tongue, and his every word dripped with disdain. The lieutenant did not take kindly to Will’s tone.

“Where Lady Hodgson takes her pleasure is none of my concern. You may not enter.”

“Lieutenant,” I said, drawing him to the side and shooting an angry glance at Will, “we are looking for a friend of mine, a local apothecary, and have reason to think that he may have come here. Can you tell us why all these soldiers are here? Why are you guarding the door?” He looked uncomfortable. “It is important that you tell me,” I added.

“There has been some trouble inside,” he said at last. “I don’t know what it is. My captain ordered me to post my men at all the doors and make sure that nobody entered.”