Lady Lydia was so thrilled at Mrs. Cavendish’s news of Marilee’s success that she made an unexpected visit all the way down in the washroom where she caught Marilee and Peggy unawares. Never had she shown her face in the servant’s domain and the flourish with which she arrived had given them both a rather nasty start. Thankfully, they had only been discussing a particularly meddlesome tear in Lady Lydia’s riding frock and not something more dire. They had become complacent that the laundry was invulnerable.
“Let me see it!” Lady Lydia exclaimed and Marilee held out the riding frock, confused.
“No, no,” Lady Lydia said as she clutched at Marilee’s wrist and examined the band. “Good heavens, what have you done to the man?” she said “Even I was unable to tempt him and, I shall tell you, I tried. I am not one who is used to taking no for an answer and I certainly don’t appreciate being upstaged…”
The woman’s moods jumped like quicksilver. Marilee bit her lip. Had their plan worked too well? The last thing that she needed was to draw the jealousy of Lady Lydia, but they had all suspected her devotion to Lord Edward, or perhaps she was just devoted to the title.
“Perhaps, he simply knew that he could never have any real hold on you, my lady,” said Peggy demurely. “Untitled as he is, and you, a grand lady.”
“Of course,” Lady Lydia agreed. “More than likely he prefers to feel superior with women of such a low class rather than one of my prestige. Men do that, you know,” she told Marilee particularly. “They do not like intimidating women, and of course it would be intimidating to consider me. Yes, that must be it!” She nodded and seemed satisfied with the explanation, her ire disappearing as quickly as it had come. “Well, you did as I asked,” she said to Marilee, “so I shall forego the slight and simply be happy that you made fast work of it.”
Marilee just found herself nodding. Insults and all, Lady Lydia’s delusional happiness was enough to bring Marilee a breath of relief. When she opened her mouth to express her gratitude that she had pleased the lady, Marilee realized Lady Lydia had already rushed from the room, as quickly as she had arrived, her quicksilver mood foregoing a farewell.
Peggy and Marilee stared at one another in silence for the longest while before they both burst out laughing.
“She is mad as a hatter,” Peggy said.
“Yes,” Marilee agreed, for a moment pushing thoughts of their woes to the background. That mad woman had control of their lives.
Altogether, Marilee enjoyed a sennight of bliss, or as close to it as could be had, in her current situation. She still worried about Lord Edward; albeit, less and less. Lady Lydia might be mad, but Lord Edward was not. That made him dangerous, but with so many days having passed Marilee was growing more confident in the idea that the lord had not given a second thought to the solicitor. Perhaps he was so often such an aggressive brute when it came to women that he was used to being laid out. It would not look well to have a maid say that he had forced himself upon her, although she doubted it would be the first time. Still, Marilee had not had seen him, nor had she endured another private moment with him. No doubt he was busy with his nefarious plans, and good riddance as long as those plans did not include her.
By day, Marilee had Peggy for company, and for a few hours each evening, Nikolas. The solicitor had done a skillful job of appearing entirely enraptured with the maid, sending token gifts and sweets nearly every day. In the evenings, they were left alone under the assumption that something untoward must occur. In truth, only a few stolen kisses and lingering embraces filled their hours of plotting and menial entertainments.
They spent the next hour at a round of backgammon, which Nikolas won with pristine strategy although Marilee had given him a good go with her own energetic play.
Unbeknownst to Lady Lydia, Nikolas was on the brink of discovering the location of the Three Sparrows, which they now knew for certain was the name of the secretive brothel near Marylebone.
Marilee felt almost happy in those few moments that she could put aside her anger and determination to end this ring of devilry. She still worried for Miss Caroline, but there was nothing she could do on that account. If only she had met Peggy or Nikolas or both when she had lived and served in Northwick then she would have been quite happy indeed.
But it was never meant to last. Marilee knew that one day Lady Lydia would call Marilee to her chambers to enact the second half of her diversion plan, the heartbreak. Marilee had warned Nikolas that when the moment came there would have to be a scene so convincing that Lady Lydia could not doubt his heart had been well and truly broken and that he would be so overcome with grief that he could think of nothing else than winning back her affections.
What Marilee had not foreseen was to be summoned to Lady Lydia’s chamber so very soon.
“We must have a chat, you and I,” Lady Lydia said as she waved Marilee into her chamber and patted the bed beside where she herself had perched.
“Is something amiss, my lady?” Marilee asked outright for it was clear from the other woman’s impatient behavior that she was agitated.
“I am afraid so.” Lady Lydia sighed. “And as you have proven yourself to be so loyal to my needs, I should bestow you the honor of facilitating the solution. For which you will be rewarded, I assure you.”
“Rewarded for what?” Marilee asked. Her heart had dropped into the pit of her stomach for she instinctively balked at the prospect of aiding Lady Lydia in any way. Good heavens, the lady already thought that she had stooped so low as to use her body to distract an innocent man who was simply doing his duty.
“Do you not mean to ask what the reward shall be?” Lady Lydia grinned.
Fine then, Marilee thought, as she realized she must at least feign interest in her mistress’s schemes. “What then, is the prize?”
“Your freedom, of course,” Lady Lydia said with a shrug. When Marilee only stared at her with her mouth gaping open, unable to believe what she was hearing, Lady Lydia continued. “Well, you must know that I shall expect you to remain on as my personal maid. Having a trusted servant so close at hand is always invaluable, and I wouldn’t think of giving up your skills. But you’ve proven yourself once, and if you do this one teeny, tiny thing, then I shall grant you a stipend and allow you to accompany me about town and on my travels. It’s really a fantastic offer. I’ve never given it to another. I would consider you as a permanent fixture of Blackwell house, as trusted as Mrs. Cavendish or Mr. Smyth even. And, as a final boon, I shall take you with me to remain in service when I am Duchess. To think, lady’s maid to a Duchess, it would be like a dream to someone of your status!”
How Lady Lydia could manage to sound so cheerful when discussing an offer of only moderately lesser servitude was beyond Marilee’s comprehension. Still, to be offered an income, however small, and ability to come and go from Blackwell house was indeed a boon. The thought that she would be permitted beyond the walls garden, perhaps even to run errands on her own, was a blessing. The potential for escape would be well within her grasp. She could pass information to Nikolas and even, perhaps, perform some investigations of her own. She might even be taken to the place where Miss Caroline was being held if she behaved well enough. Lady Lydia could not know anything about her friend, but Marilee was almost certain that she would have personal connections at each of the other holding houses, particularly if they were disguised by members of the Ton as was the case here.
She was sad that her time with Nikolas would come to an end, but it also meant that whatever Nikolas was doing was bearing fruit. Perhaps they could soon court in earnest.
“What must I do?” Marilee asked with a mixture of hesitation and conviction.
“Just a little thing, really,” Lady Lydia grinned. “It is time for your beau to be gone.”
“Oh,” Marilee said. She was disappointed that the estrangement should happen so soon, but she had expected it.
“I will speak to him tonight,” Marilee said obediently, but Lady Lydia held up a hand.
Marilee waited in silence while the Lady produced a small stoppered vial from her bedside table. “I need you to pour this into his tea cup without his noticing but it is very important that you not pour it into your own nor the kettle, and he must see you drink to allay suspicion.”
“I don’t understand,” Marilee said.
“So that there can be no suspicion to fall upon this house!” Lady Lydia snapped, suddenly angry. “Don’t be so stupid, girl.”
Marilee’s eyes grew wide. Such a request could mean only one thing. Death.
“You wish me to poison Mr. Crowley?” Marilee gasped and shot to her feet, ready to rage at the lady for suggesting such a horrible thing. To kill anyone, any human being with even a modicum of decency was unfathomable. But she soon stifled her disapproval because arguing would only lead to her own downfall.
Lady Lydia rolled her eyes at Marilee’s momentary indignation.
“Now, about this,” Lady Lydia said holding up the little container, and then pressing it into her palm. “It is effective and painless. It really is the most humane way.”
“Humane!” Marilee cried. Then when Lady Lydia hissed, she lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “You want me to kill Ni… a man… an innocent man, and you call that humane?” She could not help herself. She covered her mouth and fought against casting up her accounts. At least Lady Lydia did not rage at Marilee’s shock. She seemed to have expected it and continued on as if she were confident that she could convince the maid to do her bidding.
“Innocent? Ha! Mr. Nikolas Crowley is far from innocent.”
Marilee frowned at the thought and then thrust it away. How could she trust anything this mad woman said?
“I can’t…” she began.
“It’s okay,” Lady Lydia soothed. “He won’t suspect you, or the potion. It’s not one of his own. Ed gave it to me so you need not worry that Mr. Crowley will recognize it. After all, we needed to replace his sleeping potions, anyway. He is not the only apothecary in Town. He is not even the best of them.
“Apothecary?” Marilee said her heart growing cold. “I thought he was a solicitor; your solicitor?”
Marilee felt dizzy with the realization that he had lied to her.
“Oh yes, that,” Lady Lydia said. “He is after a fact. Mr. Crowley still puts his seal to the papers, but the real Mr. Crowley has actually been dead for over a year.” She giggled in a quite girlish manner.
Marilee wondered suddenly if this woman had killed the solicitor; or rather had him killed. Perhaps he too was getting too close to her secrets. Her head was spinning.
“This Mr. Crowley is not Mr. Crowley at all,” she chuckled. “He is not even a solicitor, although he has been impersonating one, and doing the job quite well until recently. He is an apothecary, but he was not very good at that job.”
Marilee frowned trying to take in all the information. She would not usually be one to take Lady Lydia at her word, but there was a horrifying ring of truth to the words. The fact that he knew how to stitch a wound for Lucy and how to make the poultice to put on her back when she was hurt was damning indeed, and then she remembered him saying of the perfume that she smelled at the brothel. I made the perfume. I dabble in such things. and when she accused him; told him she smelled the scent at the brothel, he did not tell her the truth. No. he said, “I have no control over the goods after they leave my shop.” Only that was not true. He chose. And he lied to her. He flat out lied to her.
“You get the laudanum from him?” Marilee said, feeling slightly sick that the dose which rendered her and Miss Caroline unconscious came from his hand.
“Well, not anymore,” Lady Lydia said. “He knows too much, and he has become a liability.”
Marilee stood shaking her head. She was not sure if it was denying his duplicity or refusing Lady Lydia’s command to kill him.
Lady Lydia assumed the later.
“Well dear,” she continued, “it’s got to be done, and he certainly doesn’t trust anyone else.” Lady Lydia stood and picked at her nails as if the conversation were boring her. “I can find other ways if you refuse, but those always get so messy. Don’t you think?”
Slowly, Marilee willed her breathing to steady. She must not give away that the knowledge that Lady Lydia wanted Nikolas dead was tearing her insides to pieces. His betrayal along with all the nightmares that she had been having of his demise now surged into the forefront of her mind with a vengeance. She realized that even if he were guilty, she didn’t want him dead. She certainly didn’t want him dead at her hand. Yet, if she refused, Lady Lydia would still have him killed, and Marilee did not have the means to protect him or even send a warning. Her head was whirling with a cacophony of thoughts.
“Why must he die?” she asked. It took every ounce of strength within her not to allow her voice to crack or tears spill over. Instead, she nursed her anger and turned the conversation to herself. Lady Lydia understood selfishness. “I’ve done what you asked of me. Everything you asked. Haven’t my… efforts… been worthwhile?”
“They have, darling,” Lady Lydia crooned as she tucked a curl behind Marilee’s ear reminding her unwittingly of Nikolas doing the same. Marilee sucked in a breath.
Lady Lydia clucked and sighed, fussing over her like one might an imbecile that they pitied, but would not deign to help. “That is why I am trusting you to do this. You have already done so well.”
“Then, why?” Marilee pressed. She clutched the vial so tightly in her hand that she feared it would break. Who knew the strength of the contents within? Perhaps even touching her skin would be enough to do her in. She forced herself to loosen her grip and repeated the question, feigning acquiescence. “If I am to do this, I must know the whole truth. If I am risking my neck, I want a part of it.” Her eyes narrowed. She would find out something that could put this woman away for a very long time. She must.
“You!” Lady Lydia grumbled and pouted but the carrot Marilee dangled was too much to resist. “Very well, then. Your efforts have been quite effective when it comes to Mr. Crowley. However, the magistrate hasn’t let up. One of his undercover men,” she laughed, “as if we did not know who he was… well, he came to the Sparrow Club, Friday last and was asking all manner of questions of the girls thinking himself covert.” She paused. “I’m told you’ve been there?”
Marilee nodded. The Sparrow Club. The brothel. And if the magistrate had sent an agent to investigate, then they must be getting close! Marilee did her best not to appear pleased. She still did not understand how Lady Lydia would have connected the magistrate to Mr. Crowley and she dared not ask.
“Then let us not pretend that you are unaware of my… arrangements. So, you see then that I cannot be affiliated with such an establishment. I am a lady.”
Marilee thought she was stretching the definition of lady rather thin, but said nothing.
Lady Lydia shrugged. “If the magistrate is investigating, then he will soon attempt to contact Mr. Crowley for my records of payments, if he has not already done so, and since Mr. Crowley, the real Mr. Crowley is dead, he cannot be contacted. The ruse is up. Plus, I am told that my runner has been compromised.” James, Marilee thought feeling a stab of compassion for the young boy caught up in this mire.
“Although I have been careful in my deposits, Mr. Harding knows more than he should, and it is clear he will no longer keep his mouth shut.”
“No longer,” Marilee breathed. “Then he has done so in the past?”
“Under duress,” Lady Lydia agreed. “But ease your overactive conscience and rest assured your Mr. Crowley is no innocent. Half of Fleet Street knows he poisoned his wife.”
“What!”
“You did not know, dear?” she crooned. “That he poisoned her, or that he had a wife?”
Marilee’s head was awhirl. He had not mentioned a wife. He had said he made a perfume, and then changed the subject. She shook her head. “No,” she said. “I don’t believe it. I won’t.”
“Believe what you will,” Lady Lydia said coldly. “It will not change my actions. I was only trying to ease that delicate conscience of yours. You will have to toughen up if you want to gain purchase in my organization. If not, well…” she shrugged. “You have to know I cannot allow you to walk away unscathed. Now, about our dear Mr. Crowley. He does like to keep things up to snuff.”
“But won’t another solicitor just pick up where Mr. Crowley left off?” Marilee inquired, grasping at straws.
Lady Lydia shook her head. “I’ve found a solicitor willing to handle the account. It will be released from Crowley and Crowley, and the new solicitor is willing to turn his eye for a fee; therefore Mr. Harding, sans Crowley must be, shall we say, expunged?”
She chuckled using the solicitor’s own words. “The purpose is twofold,” she continued. “My debts can be transferred and paid through a more, how shall I say it, amenable solicitor… and the magistrate will reach a dead end with his questioning. Quite literally. All will be well and it only takes a moment of effort on your part. Our dear Mr. Crowley shall make his departure feeling slightly off and no suspicion can land here for you will have drunk from the same pot without effect. In truth, many will think that the guilt of killing his wife finally caught up with him. You shall find some relief that you will no longer have to tolerate his pawing. Men can be so taxing.” She sighed as if the affection of a gentleman was something she saw as a chore, rather than a pleasure. “In a few days, the matter will have resolved itself, and we can get on as we were.”
“I thought I was just to break his heart?” Marilee asked, hoping that she could convince Lady Lydia that such a plan would create enough issue as to convince the solicitor to pass the account and perhaps be too crushed to take visitors, particularly the magistrate.
All of the pieces of this puzzle were topsy-turvy in her mind and she wanted a moment to think but she had no time. She was certain that if she explained all to Nikolas, he would have an explanation for his wife and Lady Lydia’s accusations. He couldn’t possibly be so devious, could he?
She demanded that she look at the source of this information. It was Lady Lydia. Of course, the woman was lying. Nikolas would find a way to play this and still achieve his goals: their goals. They were a team, but he had lied to her; kept secrets. She had kept secrets too.
She groaned and sat in a chair. Lady Lydia in a moment of compassion said nothing. She only waited for Marilee to gather her wits. Marilee did not know what was truth or lie, but she had to deal with the matter at hand. Regardless of what he had done, or how he may have lied to her, Marilee did not want him dead.
Finally, she spoke. “I can send him packing. I am sure that would do. He will be so heart-broken that he won’t wish to come here any longer.” She prayed she could convince Nikolas to do so.
Lady Lydia laughed. “You are welcome to break his heart if it will amuse you. After all you have had to endure his… attentions It might even weaken some of his resolve and help him succumb at a faster rate, but in the end it would not be enough. I know him. He will not let this go, and in any case, you wouldn’t want him hanging around mooning. We wanted him to yearn before this development with the magistrate, a lingering distraction that would possess his mind. Now, I need him disposed of.” Her face hardened. “Permanently. There can be no mistake. Do you understand?”
Marilee nodded. “When does this need to be done?” she asked in a whisper. She was doing her best to pretend that she wished to please Lady Lydia, but all she could think about was that she needed to warn Nikolas so that he might pretend to be ill and take an extended leave of absence for his own protection. She wanted to speak with him; to understand the accusations that Lady Lydia made against his person. Thoughts flooded her mind like a deluge.
“Immediately,” Lady Lydia chirped with a clap of her hands. “No need to delay and dwell on it. He’s below as we speak.”
“He’s here?” Marilee squeaked. “I can’t…”
“How sweet that you can pretend to be so innocent!” Lady Lydia laughed. “I see now how he fell for the ruse.”
“I—I am not ready,” Marilee protested.
“You had better get ready,” Lady Lydia growled. “He is here. It is best to act straight away before the magistrate has a chance to add up the ledgers. If all goes well, Hetty can be sent off by the end of the week. She shall fetch a good price, and you shall resume your position at that time.”
“But I—I thought,” Marilee stammered. “I thought Hetty was your lady’s maid now. I thought you liked her.”
“Oh pooh,” she said waving a hand. “She does not matter. I only did not want to overtax you.”
“Over tax me,” Marilee repeated. She laughed bitterly.
“I’ll even allow you to take the adjoining servant’s chamber if you’d rather not sleep with all of those pitiful girls. Honestly, it would free up a bed in the dormitory, and you’d be much happier near me should I have need of you.” Marilee could only manage to stare dumbfounded at Lady Lydia who prattled on as if the matter were settled and she was pleased with Marilee’s assumed agreement. “Off you go. Mrs. Cavendish is preparing the tea as we speak.”
“Yes, my lady,” Marilee mumbled. “I’ll just clean up first.”
“Do hurry,” Lady Lydia beamed. “Penelope Firth is expecting me for a dinner party, and you know how I hate to be late. I want him out of here in no more than one hour so that I can be on my way.”
Marilee nodded, curtsied, and made it out into the hallway without bursting into tears. Shaking, but still somehow managing to maintain the appearance of composure, she made it to the dormitory and closed the door behind her. With her back to the whitewashed wood, she slid to the ground and buried her face in her knees taking a series of laborious breaths. What was she going to do now?
She did not have the luxury of crying, nor did she have time for it. She was expected to make her way to the small parlor any minute now to murder the man that she had come to love; a man who may have lied to her and deceived her, but still, a man she most certainly loved. She did not have any time to find a way around it, save for convincing him to abandon her and go into hiding. Her mind was frantic with the thought that she would have less than one hour to make her point when the question her heart wanted answered was: did you have a wife and what happened to her?
Marilee forced herself to take slow, calming breaths. First things first. She could find out the truth later. She had to save Nikolas. That was the most immediate problem and the only way to save Nikolas would be to convince him to leave London. Better yet, leave England for a time. If she could warn him of Lady Lydia’s plot then he could slip away to safety before any harm might come to pass. Even then he might not be willing to forsake Marilee or Peggy, but if he was still resolved to get them away, as she hoped, then she would confront him about his wife.
Even if she could manage her argument, it did not solve the matter of the poison. If he were to make his escape, his supposed illness, and death, would have to be believable lest he be followed. She would need him to appear well and truly ill, gravely so. Nikolas may be adept at investigations but she was unsure of his ability to play the farce. Could he pull it off? She doubted it. How could one falsify the effects of poison... the pallor and fever, the rattle of the breath? Even if he could pretend an ache to his stomach, it would not be enough for Lady Lydia. She might still conclude that Marilee had not given him a proper dosage and she would follow through with her secondary plan and send assassins after him. This was all happening too fast.
Marilee stood, smoothed her hands over her hair and paced the room. The vial weighed heavily in her hand, reminding her of another moment not so very long ago when the emetic had felt much the same. An emetic which she had smuggled with her into Blackwell house.
“Please still be there,” she whispered to the empty room.
Upon first arriving here, Marilee had painstakingly plucked at the threads that seamed her lumpy mattress. Within its coarse stuffing, she had slipped the bottle of the tartar emetic in the hope that she would never have need of it. She had on several occasions considered dosing the night guard with the tonic so that she and Peggy might slip away but she had never found an opportunity to do so without suspicion. Still, it had been her only true possession to link her to her previous life, and so she had hidden it away for safekeeping like all the other secrets that she had been forced to keep. Secrets that paled against the one that Nikolas held.
She sighed when her fingers closed around the hard shell of the stoppered bottle. She weighed the pair in her hands; one lethal and the other much less so. She was thankful that the bottles looked nothing alike. She had no idea if the tartar emetic would still be effective all these weeks later. Nikolas would likely know the answer and she only hoped that she could convince him to take a draught for pretenses. His brother had thought the ruse safe enough for Miss Caroline and Nikolas had shown a great deal of respect for his brother’s skill in medicinal administration. It would have to work. She would have prayed, but it seemed wrong to ask a blessing upon the horrible act she was about to undertake.
Marilee calmed herself with self-assurances that this could be managed not so very differently than she and Miss Caroline had planned. Though she and Miss Caroline had rehearsed the dramatic moment dozens of times in their minds, never had she imagined that it would require Mr. Crowley’s consumption of the purgative. Better that than the true poison, however, she thought. Marilee thanked her lucky stars that Doctor Harding had provided the bottle that would, by some strange fate, be the saving grace of his very own brother.
Marilee had hoped against all hope that she would be permitted to speak freely with Nikolas upon entering the drawing room so that she could give him some warning, but that was not to be. Mrs. Cavendish met her in the hall with the tea tray and a smug expression.
“Milady asked that I ensure that all goes to plan,” she said as she passed the tray into Marilee’s shaking hands. “Don’t fret girl, not everyone can complete such a task without their nerves taking hold at least the first time. It gets easier.” Marilee began to wonder how often an occurrence administering poison might have become in this household that both the lady and housekeeper were so immune to the thought. “That is why I shall be just outside the door to make sure that you don’t get any ideas about warning the man or failing to do your duty. And leave the door ajar. If you can’t manage the sleight of hand, then I have been instructed to send Benedict to pay Mr. Crowley a visit before the sunrise. He’s messy but efficient.”
“There won’t be a need,” Marilee cut in before the housekeeper could finish her thought. The last thing that Marilee wanted, was for the woman to have what she assumed, was an assassin in the wings.
“Good,” Mrs. Cavendish settled herself upon a bench in the hall with her ear turned to the door. “You shan’t regret it. Lady Lydia takes good care of her own, and what is this man to you, anyway? Nothing. We must always put ourselves first, Kate. That is the only way to progress.” She winked and closed her eyes, giving all the appearance of having fallen asleep.