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The Midwife's Tale(91)

By:Sam Thomas


I smiled and gave him the coins. “We’ll civilize you yet. Now, be off with you.” Tree scampered off toward the Castle, reveling in his newfound wealth.

I set my sights on the alehouse and the serious business that lay before us. “Will, I hope you will stay close and watch the door. I’d like to avoid any unpleasant surprises.” He nodded.

Martha and I entered the alehouse and saw James Hooke sitting at a small corner table, staring sullenly into a mug of ale. We crossed the room and sat on either side of him. If he wanted to leave, he’d have to climb over us or across the table. James glanced up and then back at his ale.

“Hello, James,” I said. At this he looked more closely at me, squinting slightly as he tried to clear his vision. He was extremely drunk—Will had done his job well. “We’re here for Anne Goodwin,” I continued. “She asked us to come see you.” To my surprise, at the mention of Anne’s name, James’s bloodshot eyes filled with tears, and he reached over and clutched my hand.

“You’ve seen Anne?” he asked. “She is alive?”

“She is alive, and she sent us to you,” Martha said. “She hopes you are well.”

“She did? Anne said that?” he asked eagerly. “Where is she? Will she see me?”

“She will,” Martha said. “But not now.”

“No, of course not,” James said hastily. “What would my mother do if she knew?” Tears overflowed his eyes an ran down his cheeks. “She is in good spirits?” My heart went out to the lad, and I briefly wondered whether he was about to put his life in my hands. If he had a role in his son’s death, he would have to die.

“James,” I said, “before she sees you, she wants you to tell us about the baby.” The guilt and shame that filled James’s face told me that he knew what I meant. He gazed into my eyes, and I watched impassively as his face crumpled and he began to sob. Other customers looked over at us, but if he noticed, he didn’t care. He buried his face in his hands and continued to cry.

“Tell me, James,” I said gently. “Tell me.” I put my arm around his shoulders, and he leaned into me, his body shaking. I doubted Rebecca had ever offered him even this much consolation.

“I didn’t know,” he said. His eyes were bright from crying. “I didn’t know what she was going to do. I thought I could change her mind.”

“What happened, James? Anne went to sleep, and when she awoke the baby was gone. What happened?”

“I thought if I brought the baby to my mother, she might not hate Anne so much. She might not hate me.” Here is a man who does not know his own mother, I thought.

“Did she change her mind?” I asked, knowing the answer before he gave it. The only remaining question was how the child had died.

“I thought she did. She asked to hold him, and when she looked into his eyes, I thought she saw her grandson. I thought holding him had softened her heart.” Martha started to speak, but I shook my head to silence her. James would tell us everything in his own time. “She asked me to go to a wine shop and bring back the finest bottle I could find, so that we could welcome her grandson properly. When I returned I gave my mother the wine, and she called for two glasses. I asked if she had given the baby back to Anne. She looked at me as if I were an idiot. She said, ‘Never you mind what has become of the bastard. I’ve cleaned up your mess.’ Then she poured the wine and made me drink.”

“Your mother murdered her own grandson?” Martha said. It was as much a statement as a question. James nodded. “What should we do?” she asked me.

“I’ll tell you what to do, you pocky-arsed whore. Move away from my son!”

I looked up and saw Rebecca Hooke striding across the room, eyes fixed on James. I wondered how she had gotten past Will. Then I saw her footman following close behind. He bore all the marks of a fight, so I knew that Will had not given up easily. I prayed that he had not been hurt. Heart pounding, I stood up and stepped forward to confront Rebecca. Without breaking stride, she planted her hand in the middle of my chest and shoved me backward. I tripped on the bench behind me and tumbled to the floor. Rebecca ignored me, instead fixing her baleful stare on James, who steadfastly refused to meet her eyes. Rebecca turned to her footman. “Take him back to the house and keep him there.” The footman stepped past Martha, grabbed James roughly by the arm, and jerked him to his feet.

“Come on, Mr. Hooke,” he said, dragging him toward the door.

Rebecca looked down at me with a baleful gaze. “Stay away from my son,” she hissed before starting for the door.