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Chapter Seventeen
Madalene groaned. She felt as though she had been run over by a carriage. The entire left side of her head throbbed, and her whole body seemed to ache with every breath. As she moved to touch her forehead, she was reminded that her hands were bound together.
“Good,” a familiar voice from above her said. “You are finally awake. I was worried that I might have killed you with that blow.”
With great reluctance, Madalene attempted to pry her eyes open and was met by the smiling face of Miss Gaillard.
“The effects will wear off soon enough,” Miss Gaillard remarked as she turned back to tinkering at the table. “I removed your gag so we could talk before I depart.”
Madalene sat up and rested her back against a crate. “Where are you going?” she asked, her voice sounding hoarse to her own ears.
“I am going to blow up Fieldstone Square and, hopefully, everyone in it.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Why, indeed?” Miss Gaillard asked, glancing over at her. “Because I hate the British and everything you stand for.”
Wincing in pain, Madalene remarked dryly, “At least you have a reason.”
Miss Gaillard laughed. “You are funny, no?”
“I’m not attempting to be.”
“I could have killed you,” Miss Gaillard said, turning to face her. “It would have been rather easy, but I didn’t. And do you know why?”
Madalene shook her head, and immediately regretted it.
“Because I respect you, Mademoiselle Dowding,” Miss Gaillard said. “You have created an orphanage filled with love, and you impressed me with your dedication to the girls.”
“Thank you.”
A pained look came to Miss Gaillard’s eyes. “After my father died, I was sent to an orphanage, and I became just a number. Frankly, the headmistress didn’t care if I lived or died. We were always half-starved and cold.” Miss Gaillard shuddered. “We were always so cold during the winter months.”
“I’m sorry you were forced to endure those terrible conditions,” Madalene said, compassion in her tone.
“Don’t be,” Miss Gaillard replied. “That is why I ran away and lived on the streets of Paris with other like-minded individuals.”
Not entirely sure what to say, Madalene decided to remain quiet.
“I knew if I killed you, I would regret it later,” Miss Gaillard shared. “But I have no regrets about killing the headmistress.”
Madalene’s eyes grew wide. “You killed Edith.”
“Was that her first name?” Miss Gaillard asked with a shrug. “I would have thought her to be a Jane or Catherine.”
“Why did you have to kill her?”
Miss Gaillard crouched down in front of Madalene. “Because she started asking too many questions, so I needed her to disappear,” she answered.
“Why not just abduct her but keep her alive?”
“Then I would have been forced to take care of her, and that was too much trouble,” Miss Gaillard remarked without a hint of remorse. “Instead, we just threw her unconscious body off the bridge.”
“We?”
Miss Gaillard rose. “Your solicitor, Mr. Walker, helped me. He is a good man. It is a shame that he will be hung for treason.”
“Treason?” she asked. “Why?”
