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Still, she felt the hesitation within her.
“What if we…” She looked toward the door where the voices were growing ever closer. There was no way that she could pass as Lady Katherine. If she did not lose her life today, she would lose it when she was discovered. “What if they…”
“We will not die this day,” her friend promised and Marilee, for whatever reason, believed her. They just needed to survive today and whatever came after they would deal with that too, together. They clasped hands. In the last moments before the door was thrust open, Caroline promised her maid that her father, the baron would buy both their freedom. She would make sure of it.
Little did Marilee know that a sennight later, the duke and all of his entourage would be murdered. She and Miss Caroline would be thrown into slavery; separated, so that any attempt at escape would endanger the other, and Marilee thought the only use for the little bottle would be to poison herself, she had procured from Dr. Harding. Only she did not know if the whole bottle would be enough to end her life, and it certainly would not free her lady. With her luck, it would probably only cause her grave discomfort. She had no one looking for her, but perhaps she would be able to formulate an escape. If she had a clean getaway, she would no longer endanger Miss Caroline.
Now, she did not know if Miss Caroline was alive or dead. The villains had separated them, with threats that if either misbehaved, the other would pay with their life. That was the last she had seen or heard of her lady, and her friend. She did not know Miss Caroline’s fate. She was not even sure of the time that had passed since that fateful day when her captivity began.
CHAPTER2
The house where Marilee was taken was an elegant London townhome. Marilee recognized the area in the grey light of dawn as the affluent neighborhood of Mayfair. She had not been to London in years, but had spent a large portion of her youth in these neighborhoods as she had trained in her duties. The fact that the highwaymen had not bothered to cover her head when she arrived was both a relief and a concern. She hated the fear that was brought on by the felted bag over her head, the reminder of the dangerous situation in which she found herself. Yet, the fact that she was led into the home, hands tied at her front, and manhandled by two brutish men, said that the people within were neither bothered nor unused to such arrivals. Her heart sank. The beautiful yellowed brick and arching windows belied the horrors that lived within.
She was hustled into the side entrance and met by a formidable looking couple. The butler and head housekeeper, she could only assume by their attire and rigid stature. The woman, an icy-eyed mistress with her grey hair pulled back in a severely twisted bun, clicked her pocket watch shut and sighed with annoyance.
“You’re late,” the housekeeper snapped at the brutes.
“Change of plans,” the man to Marilee’s left slurred. “You get this one instead.”
“What happened to the footman I requested?” the butler demanded.
“We don’t have one yet,” the brute replied, “but we will. There are some urchins camping on the Thames that Robert is luring in. They won’t have anywhere else to go once the snow falls. For now, Mrs. Cavendish gets her laundress.”
Mrs. Cavendish, the housekeeper, grinned up at the butler with her lips pursed to one side and an eyebrow raised. It was clear she was happy with the draw, some victory won by having her needs met first.
“Snow may not fall for weeks,” the butler argued. “Snatch one now. I’m short staffed as it is, and I will need time to train him. These boys are stupid as ducks.”
“The whole house is short-staffed, Angus,” Mrs. Cavendish replied. “If you want a boy without paying a wage, then you know that Robert will provide. He always does.” She began to circle Marilee, plucking at her hair and dress as she did so. “This one is pretty. She isn’t thin or wan enough to have been begging on the streets or broken enough in spirit to have been selling herself. Where did you get her?”
Marilee held her breath as she waited for her captors to reveal her supposed tale. Instead, the man shrugged. “I don’t ask questions and neither should you.”
Mrs. Cavendish only nodded and continued her inspection. When she seemed satisfied with what she saw, she flipped the drunkards a coin each before gesturing for Marilee to follow her. Hands still bound; Marilee complied.
They made their way deeper into the back of the house, where the servant’s areas spread out on either side of the hall.
“You’ll start in the morning,” Mrs. Cavendish began. “Well, in an hour or so, I imagine. There is a mountain of underclothes to be cleaned, a pile to be starched for the lord, and Lady Lydia’s gowns must be treated with the utmost care.
“Peggy will show you the ropes.” She spun around and glared down at Marilee. “I don’t care if you want to be here or not, but if you ruin even a single article of clothing, I’ll take payment in flesh. You’ll keep your head down and your mouth shut. Do you understand?”
Marilee nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Good.” The housekeeper dusted her hands off as she opened the last door in the hall.
Marilee was shoved into a darkened room and told to get some rest. She nearly tripped over the cot near the door. She stumbled and sat heavily upon it.
“Morning comes early,” Mrs. Cavendish said before shutting the door. There was a sense of other people in the room, a dormitory of sorts, but Marilee could not see who it was. There were no windows in the room. It was disconcerting. She lay on the pallet where she had been pushed and tried to sleep, but worry kept her awake tossing and turning.
She said a prayer for Miss Caroline, likely sleeping somewhere across London in a similar condition, tired and hungry and full of fear. She said a prayer for other women like herself, caught in this web of deceit although she had not met others. It was clear that she was not the first to suffer so. She prayed for those who may have been taken to the brothel. Last, she said a prayer for herself although that felt selfish in this moment when she was but one of many who were suffering. She prayed for the world to be different, for hope and happiness to take over, for the simplicity of the life she had once known and perhaps never fully appreciated. Then, when her mind was just as exhausted as her body, she slept.
Soon, she was tossing as she relived the nightmare of her capture.
“No!” She cried. “Miss Caroline, you can escape! Get on Bella and ride!”
“I won’t leave you,” Miss Caroline said. “I won’t.”
“You must! Save yourself!”
Instead, Miss Caroline was pulling the cap from her head and hastily braiding her hair. “You must pretend to be a noble lady. You remember my cousin Kate? They will kill you if they think you are a maid, but a noblewoman they may ransom.”
