The Midwife's Tale(98)

“He didn’t use the front door.” I pointed to the back door of the shop, which still stood ajar. We stepped into the rear courtyard and looked about. Richard had set up a makeshift camp against one of the high walls surrounding the yard. Blankets lay under a canvas sheet, and a crust of bread sat on a plate, the remnants of his last meal.

“He’s probably been hiding back here since he murdered Penrose,” I said. “Most likely, he and Ellen were just waiting for the opportunity to escape.”

“What should we do now?” she asked.

“Send for the constable, I suppose. He will order Ellen’s arrest.”

“We still have no evidence against her.”

“That won’t matter now. Richard as good as admitted his guilt when he attacked us. And with him dead Ellen will put up little resistance. Or am I wrong about her again?”

“Without him, she will break,” she agreed. “But let’s wait to call the constable. We started this, and we found the truth. I want to see this through to the end. We should bring her here and show her his body. She will answer our questions then.”

I considered her suggestion before nodding in agreement. I had no desire to turn over an unfinished case to the same officials who had made such a mess of it in the first place. If we could prove Ellen’s guilt, we would. I found a basin to wash the blood from my hands, and we went outside. We waved to the guard and he crossed the street to meet us.

“Where now, my lady?” he asked. He looked warily at the marks on Martha’s face and the spots of blood on my dress but held his tongue.

“Martha and I are going to Stephen Cooper’s home,” I said. “I need you to summon the constable and tell him to bring two or three of his men back here.”

“Yes, my lady. You don’t need an escort?”

“It is midday, and the streets are busy enough. Besides, we have no time to waste.” The lad nodded and disappeared up St. Saviorgate. It took only a few minutes for us to reach the Coopers’ home. We knocked on the door, and after a moment Ellen cracked the door and peered out.

“Lady Hodgson, what a surprise!” she said. I looked at her closely, trying in vain to find some sign of the murderess that lay within.

“Hello, Ellen,” I said. “Could you come with us, please?”

She looked at me suspiciously for a moment. “I should stay here, my lady. I have much work to do.” She was not going to make this easy.

“I must insist. It is very important business, touching on your mistress’s fate.” I knew she could hardly refuse this request. She peered up and down the street, as if some passerby might tell her what to do. She furrowed her brow when she saw Martha’s bruises but said nothing. “Now, Ellen.”

“What happened to you?” she asked Martha with a tremor in her voice.

“I fell,” Martha said flatly.

Ellen stepped outside and locked the door behind her. The three of us started toward the Pavement, and Ellen looked around nervously. “Where are we going, my lady?” she asked.

“Just up here,” I said, “to Mr. Penrose’s shop.” She swallowed hard and nodded. She must have known that her plans had gone terribly wrong, but her face remained impassive.

“Why have we come here?” Ellen asked.

“We are meeting some people,” I said evasively.

“I’m afraid I cannot spend the day like this,” she said. “I must return to my mistress’s home.” She started to go, but Martha seized her wrist.

“There is something inside you should see,” she said. “We have discovered evidence that Mrs. Cooper is innocent.”

Ellen gazed at Martha a moment before answering. “She cannot be. She had the poison. She hated Mr. Cooper. He was an evil man.”

“I’ll grant you that he was,” Martha replied. “But that does not make Mrs. Cooper a murderess. Come inside.”

I opened the door and gestured for Ellen to enter. She stepped into the shop and looked around nervously. She likely knew of Richard’s hiding place in the courtyard and worried we had found it. “Let us go into the workshop,” I said.

Ellen walked around the counter and stepped through the doorway. When she saw Richard’s body and his dead eyes, she cried out and fell to her knees. Martha stood over her, watching impassively as her scream turned to a keening wail. “You killed him? Why did you kill him?” she cried.

“I had no choice,” I said. “He was trying to kill me, just as he killed his master.”

A harsh laugh escaped Ellen’s lips. “His master? Do you know how ill Penrose used Richard?”