“It doesn’t look like Richard has been back,” Martha said.
“If there’s any evidence, it will be in his chamber.” We crept upstairs and found Richard’s room exactly as we’d left it.
“What are we looking for?” Martha asked.
Despite the tension, I laughed out loud. “I don’t know. Remember, this was your idea. You check the bookshelf, I’ll search his desk.” When I saw Richard’s journal, I realized that it was our best hope. I found the early entries detailing his abuse at Penrose’s hands and read quickly until I found his first mention of Ellen. She had come into the shop to buy nutmeg. “We were right,” I said. “He started courting Ellen in March.”
“She was already pregnant by then, wasn’t she?”
“Dorothy thought so. It seems that Stephen was the father of her child. Have you found anything?”
“Not yet,” I said. “He’s got lovely handwriting, though.”
I read through the diary as Richard detailed both Penrose’s outrageous abuse and his growing love for Ellen. As their courtship progressed, his entries began to include poems about Ellen, often comparing her to the flowers and herbs that heralded the coming of spring. It was overly elaborate, of course, and I could not help marveling that the same hand that wrote these poems beat a man to death with an iron bar. After a long description of a kiss he stole from Ellen on the Ouse Bridge, the entries suddenly stopped. I checked the date of the last entry—May 28. I called Martha over.
“Look,” I said, pointing to the date and the diary’s sudden end.
“You think that’s when they decided to murder Mr. Cooper,” she said.
“The timing is close enough,” I said grimly. “Once they started planning, he could either create false entries or stop writing altogether. They are the murderers.”
“But is having the diary enough? Will your brother order their arrest?”
“He might. We could also use it against Ellen. I’ll tell her that in the diary Richard blamed both murders on her. If she thinks Richard betrayed her, she might tell us about his role.”
I handed the notebook to Martha and she started toward the door. A loud creak came from the stairs. I froze and looked desperately at Martha. The alarm on her face told me that she had heard the sound as well. Another stair creaked, and I scanned the room in desperate hope of finding some sort of weapon. Martha and I stood as still as we could, though we knew that we were as good as caught.
“Mr. Penrose asked me to fix that stair some months ago,” Richard Baker said as he climbed the last steps and entered his chamber. “I suppose I should have listened to him, at least on that occasion.” He held a short cudgel in his right hand and slapped it softly in the palm of his left.
I tried to speak but found that my mouth had gone dry and only a croak emerged from my throat. I tried again. “Richard … please.” I found myself at a loss.
“Why did you come back?” he asked. “You know what kind of man Penrose was. Why couldn’t you just accept his fate? I heard that Alderman telling you it was God’s justice. Why didn’t you listen?”
“Richard, put down the club and let us go,” I said. “This doesn’t have to happen.”
“Really?” he asked with a harsh laugh. “If I let you go, you’ll forget you were here? You’ll let a murderer escape? Are you going to ask me to believe that? Do I seem so stupid?”
“No,” I whispered.
“Thank you for that. Penrose had no idea how much smarter I was than him. Even as an apprentice I was ten times the apothecary he could ever hope to be. The man killed far more patients than he ever helped.”
He gazed at me for what seemed like hours but could only have been a few seconds. “How did you figure it out?” he asked. “I thought that with Penrose dead we were safe.”
“I found out that Ellen is with child,” I said, playing for time. “Martha realized Stephen Cooper must have been the father. We just came here to search for evidence.”
Richard looked at Martha closely. “Once again we see that the world has no use for thoughtful servants, does it? It did me no good. See where it got you? Give me the notebook.”
“Richard,” I said, “please, you don’t have to do this.”
“Of course I do,” he said softly. “If I don’t, Ellen and I both will hang. I’m sorry, Lady Hodgson, but I do have to do this.”
Richard stepped forward and swung the cudgel at Martha’s head.
Chapter 23
Martha ducked as best she could, but Richard’s club hit the side of her head with a thump. She cried out and tumbled backward onto Richard’s small bed. Richard stepped forward and stood over Martha. I watched in horror as he raised his cudgel to deal the finishing blow. Desperate, I picked up the stool that sat before his desk and hurled it with all my strength. Just before Richard could swing his club, the stool struck the back of his head and he gasped in pain and surprise. He glanced at me before turning back to Martha. When he raised the club again, Martha’s eyes snapped open and she landed a vicious kick between his legs. Richard bellowed in pain and brought the club down with terrifying force. Martha rolled to her left, barely escaping the blow.