Chapter Two

 

 

Serena made another, more thorough study of the young woman sitting across from her. In the guise of a social call, Mrs. Delilah Osborne sat nervously gathering her wits to make her case.

“Go on.” Lady Wellcott signaled Pepper to leave the teacart and began to serve them both from the painted porcelain set without bothering to ask the woman’s preferences. Serena had sat through enough of these meetings to know that Mrs. Osborne would graciously accept whatever was handed to her and then forget to take a single sip.

“Mrs. Standish referred me…I meant to say, there was a conversation about how d-difficult it was to keep a good maid in service these days and…” Mrs. Osborne cleared her throat, a miserable picture in her modestly sturdy visiting dress and tastefully unattractive bonnet. “She was a longtime friend of my mother’s or I would never have accidentally confided in her. But she was very firm in her advice and insisted that I should call on you. She said that you would have a ready solution.”

Serena held out the obligatory cup of tea with milk and sugar and smiled as the young woman took it without question. “Mrs. Standish is very clever and well-informed. But I cannot speak of the possibility of solutions until I know the problem.” She collected her own cup with the grace of a geisha. “Pretend that I am a longtime friend, Mrs. Osborne, and confide in me.”

“Of course,” she nodded her head, her cheeks flushing a flattering shade of pink. “It’s just such a sordid horrible business…”

Serena smiled. “Naturally. If it were a simple matter, then a good woman such as yourself would see to it directly and have no need of someone like me.”

“Someone like you,” her guest echoed softly, a wariness coming into her countenance.

Good. She’s paying attention.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Mrs. Osborne.”

“I’m thinking that I am in over my head and quite without options. This all seems a bit strange but as I look at you, I wonder if Mrs. Standish hasn’t made a mistake. You are so much younger than I expected. You seem very kind but I don’t see how there is anything you can do to help me with...the situation. And,” she let out an unsteady sigh as she set down her untouched tea. “I’ve abused the time allotted for a social call and should be making an awkward exit instead of sitting here stammering on your sofa.”

“Nonsense!” Serena set down her own cup hard enough to rattle the china against the marble surface of the cart. “I hate the rules about allotted times and a person’s ability to come and go as they please! Five minutes is hardly time to get your skirts arranged and begin any proper conversation and then off people go in a tangle of wraps and bonnets spitting out niceties and meaningless platitudes about hospitality. A waste of an afternoon, if you ask me!”

“Oh!” Mrs. Osborne’s surprise was charming.

“But you didn’t come here to waste my time or your own, Mrs. Osborne. Did you? Mrs. Standish said nothing beyond a note with your name to confirm that she spoke to you. But you’ve come because you have a dreadful problem that,” Serena paused only long enough to re-evaluate her guest and apply her uncanny talent for observation, “by the look of it is robbing you of sleep and your health. And if it’s to do with your current lady’s maid, then I already have my suspicions. For you are impeccably put together so her skills aren’t in question, even if I must urge you to choose richer colors for I swear those pastels make you look positively ill, Mrs. Osborne.”

Mrs. Osborne blushed. “I…like pastels.”

“They do not return your affections,” she said smiling and was finally rewarded with a shy smile in return as the young Mrs. Osborne caught on to her hostess’s keen wit and sense of humor. “Is it your current lady’s maid that is involved?”

Mrs. Osborne nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

Serena sighed. “And your husband.”

It wasn’t a question. She just had to understand the boundaries of the issue. Her instincts were screaming but the truth had to be spoken aloud by Mrs. Osborne.

Her husband’s at her maid and probably other girls in the house. If it were a mutual affair or sinful dalliance, she wouldn’t have that sick look in her eyes and she’d have already sent the girl packing.

“He…” Mrs. Osborne took a deep breath and let it all out as the tears slipped down her cheeks. “I know it is not an uncommon abuse of power for…men to…approach young women in service and I am not blind to it. I…confronted him the first year we were married when I learned that he’d…taken advantage of one of the younger kitchen maids.”

“And what did he say?”

“That it was none of my concern. That I should mind my tone and not make myself appear stupid by taking the word of an uneducated child over his when it came to such, as he put it, ‘ridiculous accusations’.” Mrs. Osborne’s hands were clenched into fists in her lap so tightly that Serena could see the threads in the seams of her gloves from the strain. “And I…complied and then convinced myself that it was a singular occurrence.”

“But it wasn’t.” Serena encouraged her to continue.

Mrs. Osborne shook her head, shame choking her answer into a single word. “No.”

“How many “singular occurrences” have there been?” Serena leaned forward a single inch, her gaze locked onto the misery in her guest’s face.

“Many I think, but…the last. He raped my dear Dell. She—she has been with me as my personal maid since I was fifteen and when I found her…crying on the floor in my dressing room…I couldn’t stay silent any longer. God forgive me for all the others, but Dell, she is more than a maid. She’s been like a sister to me.”

“Why not dismiss her? For her own safety?”

“I can’t! I wanted to—though it would break my heart—I’d have seen her to another situation and guaranteed her placement with a glowing letter of recommendation but…”

“She’s pregnant and there’s not a respectable house in London that will hire a lady’s maid in her current state.” Serena finished for her, sparing Mrs. Osborne the agony of it.

Mrs. Osborne nodded. “My sweet Dell! I cannot turn her out now! But if he learns of her condition, he won’t be as merciful! I know him too well.”

Serena held out a lace edged handkerchief and Mrs. Osborne took it gratefully.

“Thank you.”

Serena sighed. “I’m going to pace about, Mrs. Osborne. I say it in advance only because I’ve had more than one guest misinterpret my standing to some kind of dismissal when that’s not my intention at all.” She stood and smoothed out her skirts. “It helps me think to move about.”

Mrs. Osborne nodded, dabbing her eyes with the soft linen square. “Then please do.”

Serena smiled and walked to the window, absorbing how much she liked Mrs. Delilah Osborne. It wasn’t a requirement to like a petitioner but it never hurt. The urgency of the situation pressed against her heart and Serena had to take a few deep breaths to keep her emotions clear of the tangle. Even so, there was one question she had to ask to make sure there were on the same page.

“You’re not asking me for a referral to a cooperative physician, are you? You’re not seeking to end this child?” she asked, as neutral as stone.

“No!” Mrs. Osborne shifted in her chair, nearly coming to her feet in indignation at the question but holding her place all the same. “I-I know it’s done but—Dell couldn’t face such a thing and I…I have no children of my own, Lady Wellcott. Years of hoping for a baby have made them seem far more precious to me, even in these horrifying circumstances, I refuse to see a life squandered.”

“Very well.” Serena began her pacing in earnest. As a bastard herself, she had an affinity for innocent children robbed of a name and had planned on pressing Mrs. Osborne into providing for the child or even allowing Serena to make arrangements for its care. “We’ll set aside the topic of the babe for the time being.”

“Dell is a very good girl, Lady Wellcott.”

“Of course, she is.” Serena crossed the room, listening to the rustling of her skirts and savoring this part of the game. Problems were one thing but the crafting of a wicked solution was nothing short of thrilling. “Is she safe from him now?”

“I believe so. I’m keeping her close, even when I go out shopping or on errands but there’s no telling really. James is usually more interested in conquest than he is in affairs.” Mrs. Osborne’s hands tightened in her lap again. “I’ve done my best to distract him.”

Serena turned, eyeing Mrs. Osborne with new respect. “Dell is lucky to have you.”

“Can you help her? Could you…perhaps take her on yourself until the child is born or—“

“I do not believe in temporary solutions, Mrs. Osborne,” Serena interrupted her.

Mrs. Osborne’s disappointment was as apparent as a cloud covering the sun. “Oh.”

“Your maid is not the only woman in trouble, madam.” Serena went over to the sideboard and poured two glasses of wine. “The problem is your husband. He must be stopped and quickly to prevent Dell’s ejection from your home and to protect the other women in your service, as well as yourself. Do you love him?”

The question was a bit abrupt but it was meant to be, evoking an honest reaction from Mrs. Osborne.

“No! What? J-James? I…couldn’t…I should not say, Lady Wellcott.”

“Then no, you don’t,” Serena said with a smile and brought Mrs. Osborne one of the crystal goblets. “You’d have looked miserable and confessed it rather than sitting there and looking shocked and horrified at the very notion.”

“Why do you ask such things?” She took the glass, this time taking a small sip for courage.

“Because if you engage my services, Mrs. Osborne, then I must know exactly what the boundaries are and how far you will be willing to go to achieve our goal.”

“And what is the goal?” Mrs. Osborne asked, a woman mystified and enthralled.

“Justice.” Serena took a sip of her wine and sat back down. “Now, this, Mrs. Osborne is the moment where I shall tell you that you are free to take your leave if you disagree. This is the moment where you can profess to have misunderstood my intentions and withdraw without judgment. Naturally, I’d advise you to never repeat a word of our conversation since I would simply deny it and act defensively and without qualms to ensure that you withdrew the tale.” She crossed her ankles very daintily. “But if you agree that justice is in fact the path we must take to see that these vicious attacks never occur again under your roof against the women who have entrusted themselves to your care…”

Mrs. Osborne nodded slowly. “He must be stopped.”

“I can and will stop him, madam. But let me be clear. I am a merciless thing and before I’m done, your James will wish that he had never been born. This is not a polite game of subtle pressure and silly strategies. I want him to suffer for what he’s done to your Dell and to all the women before her. Only the darkest flavor of vengeance will satisfy my appetite after hearing your tale and while a woman with a softer nature might flinch—I have no qualms about plotting a man’s destruction. There is no act or sin off the table or beyond consideration if it brings me closer to achieving what I want. None. Do you understand me, Mrs. Osborne?”

Delilah Osborne was solemn and still. “You’ll destroy him.”

It wasn’t a question but a quest for affirmation.

“I will.”

Mrs. Osborne took a larger swallow from her glass before setting it on the cart. “And what is the going rate for justice, Lady Wellcott?”

“Mostly, its greatest cost is your pledge to keep our arrangements strictly secret. But once we have done as promised, then you will be a member in the Black Rose Reading Society and will vow to help any other member who approaches you with a need and to provide whatever they ask without question.” Serena quickly tossed back the contents of her own glass before setting it down next to Mrs. Osborne’s. “The Black Rose is a small women’s circle dedicated to helping one another with life’s more vexing problems. Where the law of the land turns a blind eye to the plight of women, the Black Rose Reading Society stands quietly ready to hear any petition and tries to act where we can.”

“The Black Rose Reading Society. It all sounds so tidy,” Mrs. Osborne said quietly.

“From one perspective, it is,” Serena conceded. “But from another…”

“Consider yourself employed, Lady Wellcott.”

Serena smiled. “Good.” She held out her hand to Mrs. Osborne. “We shall shake on it and call it a contract.”

Mrs. Osborne took her hand shyly. “Just that? I’m not to…sign anything?” she asked.

Serena shook her head. “There shall be no written trace of our agreement. Well, perhaps one small thing.”

“And what is that?”

“Are you still in London this late in the season or has your husband retreated to the country?” Serena asked.

“We leave London tomorrow. Is that—a problem?” Delilah replied with a new flush of color in her cheeks.

“Not at all. You must send me an invitation to visit your country estates, Mrs. Osborne. Tell your husband you have made a new friend in London and that I expressed an interest in your gardens.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Osborne said. “James will be quite impressed that I’ve managed a friendship with a lady of your station. He’s always accused me of lacking social ambition.”

“Perfect.” Serena stood, this time effectively ending the visit. “I’ll see you again soon, Mrs. Osborne. I look forward to my country holiday.”

“Thank you, Lady Wellcott. Thank you for—“

“Don’t! Don’t thank me until I’ve honored my promises.”

“As you wish.” Mrs. Osborne curtsied and left. “Good day, Lady Wellcott.”

 

Serena sat for a few moments alone sifting through the implications of her new commitment and her own plans averted until Pepper cleared her throat from the open doorway. “Yes, Pepper. Let’s have it.”

“Lucky chance, that.”

“Lucky?” She smiled and shook her head slowly in subtle denial. “How am I lucky today?”

“I struck a good conversation with your visitor’s driver and learned a great deal. It seems Mrs. Osborne was a Fitzpatrick before her wedding.”

A strange icy tendril unfurled down Serena’s spine. “Make it plain.”

“She is cousin to a Sir Phillip Warrick, your ladyship.”

The world stopped and Serena stood in a rush, all the color draining from her cheeks. “You’re certain?”

Pepper nodded. “As certain as I am of my own toes.”

“Hellfire,” Serena’s fingers moved to touch the racing pulse at her throat. “There’s a twist.”

“Do you—wish me to stay?”

“No. I need a moment alone.” She turned away before the maid answered, confident of the woman’s loyalty and obedience. Her mind was racing as the past rushed in and robbed her of all her icy reserve.

Damn.

Phillip Warrick. Just your name and I am there again.

In love.

In loathing.

God help me, it’s all there and all proof that I wasn’t an idiot for putting this off.

For years, she’d done nothing but craft revenge for others, while quietly feeding her own need for justice. With every cruel twist, she’d imagined that it was her own satisfaction she’d achieved. But that fleeting joy never lasted.

The only sound in the room was the tick of the clock over the mantelpiece and the drumming of her own heartbeat in her ears. She’d always prided herself on her planning and her control of every element in the new life she’d crafted, but luck had wrested away the illusion once and for all. Pepper was correct in crowing over the simple twist. Chance had brought things back around and if luck held, the world would right itself again.

Not that I won’t neglect to lend it a hand.

Serena deliberately took a few deep breaths and waited until the feeling finally uncurled inside of her.

There.

There it is. That first little hint of the thrill of the hunt.

And the promise of joy.