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Peggy left the room. There was shouting in the hall and then she returned with a strawberry welt on her cheek.
A short while later Marilee heard the house erupt into chaos above her. Lady Lydia had returned from her call to finish her packing except rather than packing she seemed to be tearing her room apart and screaming at the top of her lungs.
“Do you think he reported?” Peggy whispered although there was no one to overhear them.
“Would it matter?” Marilee replied. “No one is going to step in for punishing their own staff. Sure, it is looked down upon, but not forbidden.”
“We aren’t their staff; we are their prisoners,” Peggy grumbled. At this, Marilee smiled. Peggy had always been so hesitant to be vocal about their situation.
“Even Mr. Crowley does not know that,” Marilee sighed. “And if he did, he could not begin to prove it.”
“What do you think enraged her then?” Peggy wondered aloud.
Marilee only shrugged which brought on another burst of pain. She should not have tried to move her shoulder. She stayed still and stiff since every movement brought pain.
An hour later, Peggy, who had gone to fetch a meal to attempt to coax some broth down Marilee’s parched throat, burst into the room with eyes alight with mischief. She leaned out into the hall once to ensure no one was coming and then shut the door and hastened over to Marilee’s side.
“You’ll never guess who just arrived,” she whispered.
“The king?” Marilee joked even though she was too tired to laugh.
“No, Mr. Crowley!” Peggy pressed the back of her hand to Marilee’s forehead as she clearly thought her response had resulted from delusions. Marilee tried to sit up, but Peggy gently, but firmly, pushed her back onto the clean coverlet that they had draped over the pile of dirty linens that made up her bed. “I wager he has come to make his demands.”
“You have to warn him,” Marilee protested as she fought and failed to rise again. “They’ll kill him.”
“I don’t think so,” Peggy said with a shake of her head. “Candace says that Lady Lydia seemed quite pleased with herself when she left the parlor after speaking with him.”
Marilee tried not to imagine what Lady Lydia might have done, or offered, to bring the man to her side. Probably something carnal in nature, she thought with disgust. And what sort of man must he be to accept her ploy? Marilee allowed her good opinion of the solicitor to sink a notch or two.
A knock sounded on the door and both maids flinched. Mrs. Cavendish would be irate if she found Marilee lying about like this even though she was ill. Not that Mrs. Cavendish was prone to knocking, but who else would come to this room besides the housekeeper looking to relieve some anger on an unsuspecting soul? She allowed Peggy to pull her up to stand at her side so that they might pretend to be working.
Mr. Crowley was the last person who the females expected, and their faces must have revealed their surprise because he instantly shut the door behind him and began to explain.
“I came here to check on Lucy,” he said as he settled what appeared to be a small medical bag on the table near the door, “but I’ve been told she is already gone and no one will say where.”
Still, the maids remained silent.
“I struck a deal with Lady Lydia in exchange for my silence,” he continued. “Since she refused to allow a surgeon to be called, then she must at least permit me to care for the wounded or ill. I believe I have gained some of her trust.”
Marilee’s eyes widened in surprise. She had not thought that Mr. Crowley would stoop so low. “You are helping her,” Marilee accused.
“No. I am helping those hurt here. As I told Lady Lydia, I am not a doctor, so there should be no inquiry.” He paused a moment and then continued. “I have also agreed to accept her monetary irregularities with less…questioning.”
Marilee jeered, angry at the thought of this man whom she had trusted turning his coat to help Lady Lydia and the blackguards in this house. “You would debase yourself to play her games?” Marilee said with scorn. No wonder Lady Lydia had been pleased. Yet again, she had the solicitor in her pocket. But why would this man help them? Was he on the take? He did not seem to be a villain, but perhaps Marilee was just poor at judging character.
He lowered his voice and stepped forward.
“If I have to pretend for the time being that I will go along with Lady Lydia’s wishes, then so be it,” he revealed. “She’s too sly by half, but this is the best way for me to figure out what is happening here. She is not getting the money from her father’s floundering estate, nor even from the supposed shipping,” he said. “But I dare not accuse her without proof of wrong-doing. To learn more, I must have access to the house and its workings. My gut, and our conversations yesterday, tell me that this is much more than a fencing operation of stolen goods. My guess is that you two are not willing participants. Is that right?”
Still, the pair only stared at him, unwilling to hope that his words were true.
“I am relying on your help and if in return I can offer some care, then it would be my honor.”
Had a rescuer really been dropped right into their midst? Marilee played the situation over and over in her mind, looking for the trap. Surely, this was Lady Lydia’s way of weeding out her enemies. It was too much to hope that this man was on to the wicked workings of Blackwell house, and yet determined to put a stop to it himself with no other reason except… what? That he was honorable?
Was he truly honorable? He could be their salvation, and yet… Trust had been in short supply lately. Had she grown so cynical, she wondered. Marilee hesitated.
Peggy, however, did not. “We’ll help,” she said with a firm nod.
