With the news of the potential discovery of another household, one which might be the very same in which Miss Caroline had been placed, as well the hopeful encouragement that Nikolas had provided the evening prior, Marilee felt emboldened. She dressed Lady Lydia the following morning for a musicale that would keep the Lady from the house for most of the evening. She was certain that she could set about her task undisturbed.
As Marilee pinned the last of the silk ribbons into Lady Lydia’s hair, she looked down upon the dressing table and was pleased to see that she had made quite a mess of things. Pins and powder covered the surface and the tiny florets were scattered about the room as she had chased her mistress about determined to get the look just right rather than having been placed neatly in their box as Marilee would have oft ensured. The Lady seemed not to have noticed as she grabbed her reticule and made for the door. Little more than an offhanded comment to the lady that she would remain behind to clean up the disarray was all the excuse that was needed to hole herself up in the chamber for the next half hour.
Marilee peeked from behind the curtain until the carriage pulled away before she began to rummage through every nook and cranny where the lady might have hidden a secret. It did not take her long to locate the locked box that had been shoved far beneath the bed and well out of sight. Marilee chewed her lip in thought, casting a furtive glance at the door and haphazardly picking up her mess as she thought on the issue. She could not very well pick the lock. That was not a skill that she possessed, and if she broke the lock or left a pin within, then she would be given up for certain.
As she was placing the handful of discarded pieces of jewelry back into Lady Lydia’s velvet lined accessory cabinet, her eyes fell upon a small key that was tucked behind several weighty necklaces. It hung on a simple blue ribbon and looked to be of the same burnished metal as the lock on the small chest. She slipped the ribbon from its hook and palmed the key. The room was clean and she no longer had any excuse to be here. If she were caught breaking into Lady Lydia’s secured items… she dared not consider the consequences.
She carried the box to the far side of the room and sank down to the floor beside the nightstand that stood between the wall and the bed, well out of sight of the door.
She then fit the key into the lock. Her heart beat in her chest and she felt at once as if she could not breathe. She had never done something so daring or unscrupulous. With a slow release of a breath, she crossed herself for good luck and turned the key until the lock clicked open. Slowly, she opened the box.
The objects within seemed in disarray, as if the Lady often tore through the contents without care. Good, Marilee thought, there would be less chance of her own digging being noticed amidst the chaos than, say, the neat simplicity with which Miss Caroline kept her things. Miss Caroline would certainly notice if someone had gone through her personal effects.
The first few folded letters were lewd love notes from the vile Lord Edward. Marilee scanned them as quickly as possible for pertinent information, but found herself tossing them aside when she could read no more without a deep blush at the thought that any gentleman would stoop to describe such things. She may be naïve to the ways of a man and a woman, but she knew better than to intrude on such personal contents.
Further down were letters of collection that Lady Lydia had yet to pay off. The debts were insurmountable and, she suspected, far greater than even Mr. Crowley had been aware. She pulled the parchment and pencil that Nick had slipped her days prior for just such a discovery. She jotted down the amounts and the account holders. He would likely recognize the names though they meant nothing to her.
Next, came a single paper where Lady Lydia had practiced her desired signature hundreds of times in varying styles. The paper was covered both front and back with Duchess of Manchester, Lady Lydia Bennington. Marilee felt it was no far cry to presume that it was as Mrs. Edward Bennington that the signature was hoped to be penned.
A leather envelope lay at the bottom of the box. Within, Marilee found several thousand pounds worth of bank notes made out in grand sums, more than she could have hoped to have held in a lifetime. If she were a more devious person, she could pocket one and live a wealthy life for the rest of her days. Instead, she looked at the notes with disgust.
“Blood money,” she whispered to the empty room. This was how Lady Lydia was paying off her debts. Still, Marilee could not determine exactly where they had come from. They were unmarked save for a stamp of three sparrows in the place of a signature. Again, Marilee made a note for the solicitor.
When Marilee moved to place the contents back into the box, she realized that the lining at the bottom of the panel was curled in one corner. Some instinct told her to pull back the liner, and she was shocked to find one last piece of paper tucked beneath.
On the page was a list of names, no less than fifty in number, all female and all with numbers written beside them. Their value in sale, she realized with a lurch of her stomach. It was a good thing that she had skipped the midday meal else she would have retched.
Marilee had nearly finished copying the first column when she heard a laugh in the hall. She ducked down beside the bed and held her breath.
A moment later, the handle of the chamber door turned, and she knew that she would be caught.
Mrs. Cavendish was speaking to someone in the hall and she, as usual, did not sound pleased.
“Tell Penny that if his Lordship does not have his dinner in the next hour, then she won’t see an evening meal for herself for the rest of the week,” the housekeeper snarled as she stepped into the room. Her footsteps could be heard as she moved toward the partition behind which Lady Lydia would dress. The sound of rustling clothing and a grunt as Mrs. Cavendish tossed the items into the arms of a nearby maid had Marilee in a panic. Only a few more steps and she would be able to catch Marilee about her havey-cavey business.
Marilee threw herself on her stomach beside the bed and, inch by ever-loving inch, she squeezed herself into the darkened crevasse beneath the bed. She rubbed her nose. It was none too clean under the bed, with dust bunnies galore. She stifled a sneeze, by squeezing her nose shut with her thumb and forefinger. Her heart was beating so fast that she felt it must give out. Each step of the housekeeper upon the floor boards she was certain would mean her last breath.
“No! Bring the linens you lout,” Mrs. Cavendish ordered. “Then you can take the garments to wash. I’ll not change this bed myself. I will show you once how milady likes it done, that is all. You will take it in mind and repeat it exactly as I say moving forward.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” the maid, a new one by Marilee’s estimation, replied with a quiver.
Marilee peered down past her feet where she could see Mrs. Cavendish’s shoes still standing by the partition. It was now or never. She had one shot to pull the chest beneath the bed or be beaten within an inch of her life, or worse. Marilee realized she could not have chosen a worse hiding place. If they were to make the bed, surely, they would see her, but she could not change her choice now.
With one slow breath, she reached out, lifted the small box, and pulled it to her chest. Slowly, with aching slowness, she set it down beside her head. Then, she forced herself to steady her breath so that she might not sneeze from the dust in which she was laying. She would be a sight to be sure if she got out of this alive. Surely, Mrs. Cavendish could hear the mad beating of her heart. She closed her eyes and stilled her breathing, praying for deliverance.
For the next several minutes, Mrs. Cavendish barked orders while the maid went about completing the task of stripping and remaking the bed. It wasn’t until they moved to the side on which Marilee had been hidden that she realized that the ribboned key still lay on the floor within sight of anyone who might look down. She felt a cold sweat break out across her forehead and between her breasts. Mrs. Cavendish had moved to the opposite side of the room but the maid had come around to Marilee’s side. The maid was wholly focused on her task, but she was sure to notice the bright ribbon if she glanced away from the bedding for even a moment.
“Tuck the corner tighter,” Mrs. Cavendish snarled. “I won’t have the edges falling lose when my Lady is sleeping. She’ll catch her death if her feet get cold.”
Marilee watched as one leg of the maid lifted from the ground and the other lifted to her toes. She was kneeling on the bed to get a better purchase.
“Not like that!” the housekeeper shouted.
Quick as an arrow, Marilee snaked her hand out and snagged the ribbon. Not a moment later, the maid’s foot came down right where her hand had been. Marilee shook as she clutched the key to her chest.
“You do not climb on the bed,” Mrs. Cavendish shouted in full rage. Her boots stomped toward the maid who was jerked from her feet, by her ear Marilee presumed, and dragged from the room with wailing cries and cursed scolding from the housekeeper.
Marilee allowed her head to fall back upon the dusty floor without a sound. For several minutes she lay there, certain that Mrs. Cavendish would reappear to finish the job herself. When it seemed she would not, and when Marilee could no longer hide away beneath the bed, she pried herself out from her hiding place and made a scribbling completion of the list. Her hands were shaking so that she could only hope that Nikolas would be able to decipher the scratching. She replaced the list beneath the liner, closed and locked the box, and slid it back from whence it had come. Marilee stepped behind the partition to dust herself off, check her hair and body for dust in the standing mirror, and replaced the key upon its hook in the cabinet.
She was certain that the door would fling open any moment to reveal her standing there in all her criminal nature. But it did not. She swept the last of the pins from the dressing table into their box and glanced about to ensure that everything was as it should be, except for the rumpled bedding. Then, with her paper and pencil in her pocket, she peaked into the corridor. It was empty. With her head held high, she stepped into the hall with all the feigned confidence of a queen. Or, at the very least, one seasoned in stealth and not the quivering mess of nerves that was her reality. She felt quite nauseous. Breathe, she told herself. She did, and then she sneezed quite ferociously.
She had reached the end of the corridor and was merely one step away from slipping down the servant stair when a deep chuckle sounded from behind her. She turned to see the loathsome Lord Edward crest the top of the main stair. Something about his perfect hair, perfect teeth, and immaculate attire had always set her on edge. Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He was far too pristine to be as good on the inside as appearance were meant to imply.
“Here we are,” he slurred. Marilee wrinkled her nose as he stumbled towards her. It was far too early in the day for him to have been so well into his drink.
“The lady is out,” she explained. “A musicale. Perhaps you might still catch her.” She tried for the door at the top of the servants’ stairs, but Lord Edward blocked her way. He chuckled. “I find myself in no rush. Do you?”
“Yes,” she released a rush of breath. She did not care for the predatory look in his eye. “I am needed below.”
“I think not,” he laughed again, stepping closer until they were toe to toe, and Marilee felt the urge to back away, except she was met by the wall against her back.
“If you’ll excuse me…” she turned, but his arm shot out and prevented her from making her escape. The other settled upon her waist and Marilee looked up at him with unbridled loathing.
“Oh!” he grinned. “Full of vigor and not even going to pretend? My favorite type.”
Marilee tried to wrest herself away but his hold was firm. She cried out. Punishment be damned but she would not allow this cretin to take advantage.
“Hush you trollop,” he slammed a hand down over her mouth. “You exist for my entertainment, and I’ll not tolerate your shouting.”
Without hesitation Marilee sank her teeth into the flesh of his hand. Lord Edward bellowed and Marilee cried for help once more. Despite the attack, he still held her in place by shoving his body against her and pushing her against the door jamb as he inspected his hand for injury. Then he slapped her with the same hand. Her head jerked back smashing into the door jamb.
“You are fortunate that the skin is not broken,” he hissed. Before Marilee could even begin to prepare herself, his lips slammed against hers in the most unwelcome and wet of kisses. She recoiled with disgust and shrieked with distaste against his mouth.
“No. You are the one that is fortunate that I do not break your face,” came a male voice from over Lord Edward’s shoulder. The young lord was wrenched from Marilee and was soon doubled over from a swift punch to the gut. “Get out of here you drunken lout.”
Lord Edward turned away, cursing and holding him stomach. “Watch your back, Crowley,” he snarled. “You have no idea what I could do to you.”
Marilee looked up into the eyes of her savior. Nikolas stood at the top of the stairs with his fists balled and an uneven breath unlike anything Marilee had ever witnessed from the perpetually calm man.
“How did you get here?” Marilee cried as she rushed to him and grasped his hands, checking for injury.
“I heard you cry out when I arrived and I raced up the stair to find that mongrel …” he shook his head as if he could not dare put into words what had nearly come to pass. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” she whispered. “You arrived just in time. For that I will ever be thankful.”
He reached up to run his cool hand over the hot redness of her cheek. Again, he shook his head, his eyes narrowing. Marilee had never seen the gentle Nikolas with his temper so hot. “I’ve never liked the man but now… now I hate him.”
Marilee allowed herself a deep breath knowing that in this moment it was her turn to have the level head. Nikolas was always so calm and collected when she needed it but now, he was clearly beside himself.
“You must go,” she instructed. “You must go and not return so that no one will know that you have been here. Were you seen? When you entered the house?” Their eyes connected and for the first time the severity of the situation seemed to dawn upon Mr. Crowley. A commoner had just laid hands upon a peer, attacked him no less. The repercussions could be disastrous.
“Only by the butler,” he shrugged. “Though I doubt he even notices me, let alone remembers when I visit.”
“Then you must leave,” Marilee repeated.
“I cannot leave,” he argued. “We are too close to answers.”
“You must. Lord Edward will have you hanged.” She begged.
“Come with me,” he said.
Marilee felt her heart give a wild leap in her chest. She wanted nothing more than to run away with this man, but that was not really what he was offering. He was offering his protection to her, but what about Peggy? What about Miss Caroline? What about the rest of the girls?
“You know that I cannot,” she said. Oh, how she wished she could walk straight out that front door with him this very moment. But it would never be allowed. Besides, she would never abandon Peggy. She said as much and he sighed, running a hand over his face as he paced the upper hall in thought.
“Peggy can come too if you can get her now,” he offered. “We could all escape. We could go to my brother in the north. A few maids are too insignificant. I doubt they would even come for us.”
“Lord Edward was drunk; perhaps he will not even remember.”
All at once she felt as if the world was crashing down around her. The depth of her feelings for Nikolas began to make themselves known when the fear of what might come to pass from attacking a peer had suddenly become a reality. She cared for him, deeply. Perhaps too deeply. Perhaps even more than she was willing to admit. If she really thought it possible to leave, she might. If she thought that the three of them could escape and then somehow, by some miracle, find a way to free Miss Caroline, she would go with him in an instant. But the empty hall below was never truly empty. It was always guarded. And they would not get far before they were brought back to meet an even worse fate for all. “I cannot,” she cried. “I wish that I could, but I cannot.” She shook her head violently. “And you must go. If Lord Edward gathers his wits, you will hang. The only thing that will save you is your absence. Please,” she begged. “I cannot be the cause of your death!”
He sighed as if he too knew that this was the only option. “Then I will take caution. If he was truly in his drink, as well as you say, then I will have faith that all shall be forgotten.”
“I am sorry that you had to take such action.” She dropped her head in shame. “I had no idea he…”
“Don’t,” Nikolas stopped her with a hand to her chin, the pressure slowly raising her gaze to his own. “Don’t you ever say that. You could no more have prevented his advances than I could have stopped myself from ripping him off of you.” When she pursed her lips, preparing herself to argue that he might have stayed clear of any harm to himself, he stopped her. “Given the chance I would do it again and again. You deserve better and that loathsome creature needs to be put to a stop.”
Marilee smiled up at her rescuer and nodded. Despite the danger, she was glad that he had been there to protect her. He always seemed to be there to protect her when she needed.
“Then go for now,” she pressed. “We will talk later, when you return. For now, be safe. Who knows what Lord Edward could do?” Marilee felt her hands begin to shake, and she needed to get Nikolas out of here before she fell apart. “Go!” she begged, pushing him toward the stairs. He turned to leave, but turned back, and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was so fast, so unexpected that she gasped, and then he was gone, leaving a tingling on her lips and a flutter in her heart.
“Be safe,” she murmured as he raced down the corridor and out the door.
Marilee barely made it down to the washroom, her knees were so weak. When she arrived, Mrs. Cavendish was throwing the pile of items to be laundered at an overwhelmed Peggy and demanding to know, “Where in the devil is that blasted Kate?”
“My apologies, Ma’am,” Marilee broke in when she saw Peggy’s eyes grow wide with fear. “I had to use the necessary.”
Mrs. Cavendish snorted as if she thought it a waste of her staff’s time to even think of the need to relieve themselves. “Well,” she said, “Be quicker about it, would you? We both know these clothes will not wash themselves.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Marilee dipped into a curtsy with what she hoped was convincing deference for the haughty old bag.
With that, the housekeeper pushed by her, sending Marilee stumbling into a pile of soiled nightclothes.
Peggy’s mouth fell open, but she said not a word until she had checked the hall to be sure that the tyrant had gone and latched the door at her back.
“I had a fright,” Peggy gasped. “She came in here demanding to know where you were and why you weren’t tending at my side now that the lady had left. She said she had just been in Lady Lydia’s chamber and you were nowhere to be found. I had no idea what to say.”
Marilee sank into the pile and felt at once as if she needed a strong drink although she never had been one to imbibe.
“I need a clean dress,” she said when she could finally manage a word. She pulled off the soiled dress with distaste. “I’ve been shoved under the bed for what feels like an age and if anyone looks too closely, they are bound to see the dust.” She began to strip her outer garments while Peggy rooted around for a suitable replacement.
“Marilee?” questioned Peggy when she stifled a sob.
“What happened?” Peggy asked.
“Lord Edward,” she gasped, and Peggy wrapped her arms around her friend, and then helped her to dress in clean clothes. While they worked, Marilee told her tale in the merest of whispers. Worry about Nikolas filled her as she recounted the story of woe and his part in it.
The encounter with Lord Edward was of grave concern to both of them. How Lord Edward might choose to retaliate against Nikolas could cost his life or his career. Marilee was only satisfied when Peggy expressed relief that he had only landed the blow in the gentleman’s stomach and not his face. A mark would not be left and perhaps Lord Edward would be too shamed by his defeat to make the matter public. They could only hope that his pride would result in silence.
Marilee paced and worried, but there was nothing to be done, but convince Nikolas to keep his distance for a time until the matter might blow over. It was a blessing that Lady Lydia had been out when the tousle had occurred. She would have rained fire down on both Mr. Crowley and Marilee, but Peggy was right. Lord Edward would have his pride. Perhaps he would not want the truth to be known.