Page 67 of The Secret Life of a Lady
Lady Philippa had sent a message. She should be returning by early afternoon, so Hannah wasn’t surprised to see a note on her table when she entered her room after taking leave of Ivy and Millie. Philippa requested Hannah join her for afternoon tea in Philippa’s room.
Hannah was desperate to show her Alfred’s letter.
Philippa sat on a high back chair near the fireplace. Her room had windows revealing the beautifully landscaped front gardens of Everly Manor. Sunlight streamed through the window, tea steamed on the low table in front of Philippa, and the scent of buttery shortbread blended with rose and lavender. It was a genteel and delicate backdrop to discuss dark and deadly deeds.
‘I heard you were out shopping with Ivy and Millicent. I must say, it is good to see you developing friendships. Those two seem worthy companions for you.’ Philippa poured Hannah’s tea.
A bubble of warmth filled Hannah, and she smiled. ‘Yes, they are.’
‘Our enterprises require we keep so much hidden, but in rare circumstances, life provides us with people who respect the need for secrets, or even better, who can be entrusted with them.’
Hannah sat. ‘I would not be willing to put either of them at risk by exposing our secrets. Speaking of which, I have news.’ She dipped into her pocket and produced the letter.
Philippa placed her tea on the table and reached for it. Her eyes scanned the words. ‘Intriguing. Where did you find this?’
‘In Alfred Cavendale’s bedroom.’
‘The author does not name a recipient. Just “Dear sir”. Maddening, is it not?’
‘I assume that given its location, the “sir” referred to is Alfred.’
Philippa nodded. ‘Certainly a logical assumption, but not definitive. He may have come into possession of this letter by other means. We must also assume the “tragic victim” is Sarah Bright, although again, with no names mentioned, this is just conjecture.’ Philippa rubbed her thumb over the seal. ‘My conversation with the Queen was rather enlightening. She was not surprised by our revelation. Indeed, she shared intelligence about a new secret society that bears this seal. They consider themselves creators of their own destiny. A group of men with Godcomplexes and more money than sense. Pathetic, but like all men who have been granted too much power, potentially very dangerous.’
Hannah sipped her whiskey-laced tea and sputtered. It was almost completely whiskey. Philippa’s visit with Queen Victoria must have gone badly indeed.
‘She shared something even more dire. These men are not just killing women. They are selling them for trade.’
Hannah leaned forward and felt a crease form between her eyebrows. ‘What do you mean? Trade for what?’
‘What value is given to a woman of no means besides that of her body?’ Philippa’s voice was hard, her syllables clipped. ‘They are being sold into the flesh markets of Europe. Girls from country towns lured into London by wealthy lords to interview as maids, only to be drugged and shipped across the channel in caskets where they are sold into slavery.’
It could not be true. Hannah recoiled, pushing back into her chair. ‘Surely she is mistaken!’
Philippa shook her head. ‘Queen Victoria is never mistaken. Certainly not about something as serious as this. These men are dangerous. They are making obscene profits and gambling with their lives if they are caught. Which means they are also desperate. They will kill anyone who threatens their enterprise. Didn’t you overhear Lord Cavendale saying Alfred was the member of a secret club? If he is one of their brotherhood, we must consider our next steps very carefully. To take out one of their members is to enrage the entire pack and bring them down upon our heads, Hannah.’
‘Are you suggesting we walk away?’ Hannah’s stomach clenched as bile burned up her throat. Retreating for fear of retribution while young girls were being sold into slavery was unthinkable.
Philippa stood and paced to the window. ‘Absolutely not. But I won’t risk your life either.’
‘I can take care of myself, Philippa. You trained me to do just that.’
Philippa turned, and Hannah saw something she’d never seen before in her patroness’ eyes. Fear. ‘You cannot defend yourself against this brotherhood, Hannah. Not alone.’
Hannah stood and walked to Philippa, grasping her hands. ‘I’m not alone. I have you.’
‘Even together, the risk is dire.’
Hannah bit her lip. For ten years, Philippa had provided for Hannah, protected her, trained her, and in her own way, loved Hannah. But Hannah had never been completely honest with Philippa. She shared her darkest secret with a man destined to break her heart. But she had never shared that truth with Philippa.
They were playing a dangerous game. She and Philippa might not survive this mission. She didn’t want to go to the grave with any deceit between them.
‘Philippa, there is something you should know. About the night I arrived on your doorstep. The night my mother was murdered.’
Philippa squeezed Hannah’s hands. ‘Tell me.’
‘My mother didn’t kill Raymond Smythe that night. I did. I murdered him.’
Philippa could still surprise Hannah. She smiled. ‘Darling girl, don’t you think I knew that the moment you arrived?’
