Page 18 of A Mayfair Maid

“Do not go asking questions you do not wish for answers to,” she hissed. “And for Gawd’s sake you mustn’t tell anyone what you saw tonight.” She gestured at the prone Lucy. “No, magistrate. Do you understand?” Good heavens. She thought of Miss Caroline. What if tonight’s actions got her lady killed? She couldn’t bear the thought. “Please. Promise me.”

“Kate,” he whispered and placed a hand on her forearm, looking straight into her eyes, demanding honesty. “Are you alright?”

Marilee couldn’t answer. No, she wanted to scream. No, I am not, but she could not tell him the truth, nor could she bear to utter the lie. So badly she wanted to escape, but this was not that moment. There were too many other girls in this house that would be left to their deaths if she acted rashly, and more than that, she did not know what had become of Miss Caroline. Would she be murdered?

Surely countless others, like Peggy and Ella and Lucy would be if there was even a whisper that something was off in this house. It would be easy to get rid of the evidence, even if that evidence were people. She had to remember these villains had killed a duke. Offing a few servants would barely raise an eyebrow. Marilee moved around the table so that it was once more between them. She could not get caught up in feelings for this man. It meant nothing. It could mean nothing. She nodded to the unconscious girl.

“It’s not just me,” she said softly gesturing to the prone girl on the table. “Please. Do what I ask.”

He nodded. “What do we need to do?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Nothing just now.”

Marilee looked at him with narrowed eyes. He saw the books. He had to know what was going on here. He was not ignorant for all he appeared to be. But he had helped Lucy. Perhaps he was not as much of a villain as she had first surmised, but she could not bring herself to trust him. She had already told him too much. If he went to Lady Lydia with that news, all was lost. She covered her face with her hands thinking of the massive blunder she had caused. If she got Miss Caroline killed, she would never forgive herself.

“Kate,” he said softly. “You can trust me.”

But of course, she couldn’t.

* * *

Mr. Crowley lookedat her with questions in his eyes. She was kind, and stalwart and the last thing he wanted to do was leave her alone in this house, but she had been alone for weeks, possibly months, and he knew there was villainy here. He knew. In fact, he was a part of it. But he had come to believe lately, that there were more than stolen items of value involved in the villainy at Blackwell House. He was not sure, and could prove nothing. Furthermore, his inquiries had been met with resistance, and he had to remember that Lady Lydia held his purse strings. He begged Kate to trust him, but she did not. Moreover, she was right to distrust him. He was not a trustworthy man. His own actions had proven that. He should have gone to the authorities straight away, but he did not.

It took all of his resolve to walk out the front door not knowing what would befall Kate in the future. Kate. His Kate.

Not long after he left Blackwell House, Lady Lydia came to visit his humble abode. That in itself meant she was worried about his silence. Mr. Crowley assured her that nothing had changed between them. He knew she held him by the short hairs. He could not speak out against her without implicating himself, and he knew, that she would blame all on him. With feigned nonchalance, he told Lady Lydia that she could treat servants in her employ as she wished, and certainly what happened to thieves at the house was not his business.

“Yes, thieves,” she said thoughtfully, making Mr. Crowley think that Lucy was not a thief at all. “She shall be dismissed, of course.”

“Of course,” Mr. Crowley agreed. “Without references.” The thought made him realize that even though a number of maids and footmen had left the Blackwell’s employ, he had seen no letters of recommendation among the papers, either for hiring or for reference when the employees left. The realization brought a horrible thought to his mind.

Perhaps Blackwell house was not dealing in stolen goods alone, but in stolen people. Surely not. The beautiful woman before him could not be so evil. Certainly, something even more sinister than he thought was taking place at Blackwell House, but what? Why would Lucy not just leave before something so drastic was done? And what about Kate?

“I should have chucked her out the door already,” Lady Lydia said pacing the small space of his office.

Who? He wondered momentarily and then realized she meant Lucy. “It would be a mercy to allow her to remain until morning,” he urged, but he thought, Lady Lydia was not a woman prone to merciful dealings. Instead, he changed his tack reminding her that some might know that Lucy was in her employ. He hoped he convinced Lady Lydia that Lucy might die of her wounds, and a maid dead in her employ would elicit more questions than she wanted to answer. Every word she uttered made him more sure that the people were being kept there against their will. Kate was being kept against her will. What hold did she have on Kate? Was it debt that kept her imprisoned, as he was?

“Tomorrow, then,” Lady Lydia said reluctantly. “She will be out of the house at first light.”

Out where? He wondered, and what could he possibly do to help Lucy without stretching his own neck and perhaps putting Kate in danger?

* * *

After Lady Lydia left,Mr. Crowley buried himself in his work, mixing herbs and making potions and tinctures. As the night wore on and the candle burned down, he realized he was mixing herbs for wounds such as the ones Lucy sustained; salves for the hurts and potions to drink for the pain. He had ground an inordinate amount of willow bark for pain, but perhaps they would need it. When he filled the last bottle, he found his bed, but he could not close his eyes. He knew Kate was supposed to keep him from interfering, and she had not. He had caused her to be in more danger than previously. He was sure of it. He resolved that he would visit on the morrow and stay to speak with Lady Lydia. He would get both Lucy and Kate out of that house by whatever means necessary.

CHAPTER7

When Lucy had been taken away, Marilee thought it was all over. Mr. Crowley had made his exit without seeing Lady Lydia, though Marilee suspected the lady was not pleased by this news because she followed him shortly afterwards. Marilee heard her call for her carriage.

Marilee assumed she would castigate Mr. Crowley about the whole affair. Lady Lydia had also not been pleased to discover his involvement or what he had overheard. Mrs. Cavendish had been given a tongue lashing to end all for the misstep of bringing a beaten girl into the house while they had a guest. The housekeeper had sworn that she had not known the man was within, but Lady Lydia declared that if he made a report, she would flay them all herself.

“I’ll have to coerce him into silence,” Lady Lydia had said she had pinched her cheeks and delved a hand into the front of her gown to pull her breasts more fully to sight. Marilee had no doubt as to the kind of coercion that Lady Lydia was used to offering to bend men to her will. Thoughts of Lady Lydia and Mr. Crowley tortured Marilee’s mind. When she examined the feelings, she realized she was jealous. How had she become so possessive of the man? They were not engaged. They barely knew one another.

Lady Lydia returned an hour later and promptly launched a potted palm down the hall, which surprisingly, made Marilee feel somewhat better, until the lady turned her ire on Marilee.

“You had one task!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs as she rounded upon Marilee who stood frozen in the stairwell. “Keep him in the parlor. One task!”

“I told him to stay put,” Marilee offered the weak excuse while Peggy did her best to push through the servants who had gathered at the base of the stairs.

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