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“Not the duke,” he said.
“Oh, no,” said Marilee. “Miss Caroline would not do such a thing. She only hoped to dose herself, so she could plead nausea from the carriage ride, or perhaps a mild illness, but nothing that might cause an evaluation.”
“No,” he huffed. “You wouldn’t want a doctor called.” He shook his head again and glanced at Marilee from the corner of his eye. “Miss Caroline truly wishes to do this?”
“Only for a short while,” Marilee nodded. She felt the tension release from her shoulders. He would help them. She could see it in the resigned set of his mouth and the weariness in his eyes. Whatever it was he had remembered about the duke, in combination with his loyalty to Baron Wickham and the gentleman’s family, the memory had helped him make up his mind.
The doctor opened a cabinet that sat high on the wall on the far side of the kitchen and began to rifle through its contents. Marilee’s gaze bounced back and forth between the doctor and the window, where the light of morning was just beginning to cast a faint glow over the village.
“Tartar emetic,” he said as he turned around with a small stoppered vial in one hand. “Only the barest pinch and no more than once a day. She can also buy a few days by claiming her cycle after she has ‘recovered’ from the journey, but I fail to see what difference this might make in the long term.”
“If she can find some proof of the blackmail,” Marilee began again, but the doctor waved her off.
“I’d rather not hear it. The gentry are difficult to pin to a crime, any crime,” he said. “And a duke…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but this is a shot in the dark.”
“I know.” Marilee allowed her breath to release in a long sigh of relief. “But we have to take that shot. I will not abandon my lady and my friend.”
He nodded. He was going to help them. She took the proffered vial and slipped it through the slit in her gown and into the pocket that was tied there. Then, impulsively, she threw her arms around the man’s shoulders, pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
She listened carefully as he explained that the medicine was used to clear the contents of a patient’s stomach. The purgative would do well enough to indicate a traveling sickness without giving fever or other effects that might result in the duke calling for a physician. Truthfully, she wondered if the horrible man would even call a physician for his wife. Marilee professed her thanks in abundance and slid a handful of coins across the table before she slipped through the door, knowing full well that the only way she would ever see the doctor and his wife again was if the plan was successful.
She made it back to the manor in time to slip upstairs into Miss Caroline’s chamber with no one noticing that her skirts were dew dampened to her knees and she had pine needles in her hair from the shortcut through the forest. Her cheeks were rosy from the exertion and her breath quivered as she stared upon the beautiful, albeit terrified, features of her dearest friend.
“It is done. At least the first step. You will still have to find evidence of his wrongdoing,” she said. “That will be the hard part.”
“Thank you,” she whispered and then Miss Caroline crumpled to her knees and began to sob. No one but the maid would ever see the lady cry, but here she was sobbing as if her heart had broken into a thousand shards. Marilee sank down beside her and wrapped her friend in her arms.
Fear for the future, hope that there may still be an escape, and gratitude for Marilee’s efforts came spilling out. It had been a fitful night for both of them; it was the beginning of many fitful nights.
The carriage conveying the duke and duchess along with the duchess’ maid, Marilee Pelletier was stopping.
“Stand and deliver,” came the call of the highwaymen, and for a moment, Marilee could not quite believe what was happening.
The old duke blustered and opened the door of the carriage to confront the highwaymen while Caroline, Marilee’s friend and new duchess sat frozen beside her. The duke slammed the carriage door shut with a resounding crash.
Then came the sounds of shouting and to Marilee’s horror, pistol shots.
She looked at her lady, the duchess, who leaned close, turning Marilee so that their faces were drawn together and the merest whisper might pass between them unheard.
The duchess was taking slow, even breaths, calming herself. Marilee mirrored the action with the hope that it might steady her own nerves. It settled her into an outward calm, but inside Marilee was still screaming. The noise in her head was so loud that she could not even begin to understand the shouting of the men outside in the night.
Then, Marilee felt the duchess’ hands ripping at her hair and almost raised her own hands to stop her when she realized what Caroline was doing. Her friend had removed Marilee’s cap, the only identifying feature of her station since Marilee’s wardrobe consisted of the lady’s old gowns. Without the cap, she too might look like a lady, though for a moment she considered refusing.
It was a crime to pretend to be above her station. The cap disappeared, tucked away within the seat cushion where it would never be found, but Marilee was too frantic to truly notice.
“You are a lady,” the duchess said. Marilee barely processed the words. “My cousin. Kate. Do you remember her?”
Through her confusion, Marilee recalled Caroline’s distant cousin to whom she did bear some small resemblance save the lack of a beauty mark below her eye. She nodded. She remembered the woman, though only a little.
“My lady…” Marilee whispered. She needed to tell her friend to save her own life. That the hopes of passing herself as a lady was futile. Maybe she could rush from the carriage and cause a distraction? If the attackers were chasing Marilee, then perhaps Miss Caroline could escape while their attention was elsewhere? Caroline was an excellent horsewoman. She could take her horse Bella. “You could escape,” she said.
Caroline’s glare told the maid that she would not tolerate such thoughts. She grasped Marilee’s shoulders once more and gave her a firm shake. “You are a lady,” she demanded. “You cannot falter.”
“But,” Marilee began.
“I’m not leaving you,” Caroline said.
Marilee allowed herself one more bolstering breath, squared her shoulders, and sat as proud as she had seen the duchess do when trading barbs with the duke only a few hours prior.
