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Marilee didas she was told and soaked in all that he said as well as the quiet evening. She breathed in the cool night air, and slowly breathed out her troubles, if only for a moment. There were no words. No thoughts. Just the wispy puffs of her breath against the dark winter sky, and the silent man at her side, sure and solid, holding her hand. She could almost imagine away the yellow-bricked townhouse and its horrible inhabitants.
The sky, the same stars that glittered over the fields and forests of Gravesend Manor, brought her peace. The world was wretched, but not all ruined. Outside of this place, these people, there could still be beauty; there could still be hope. She now understood why he had brought her out here, for this reminder that there was more beyond her walls of captivity. That there was good to be had. And she would have it again. She must.
She closed her eyes briefly remembering who she was. She was more than a captured laundress. She was more than she was at this moment. She was an independent woman living in the grandest land in the world. She was not a slave forever, unless she believed it so.
She turned toward him to find him gazing at her, a strange and intense look in his eyes. “I thought we were looking at the stars,” she said softly.
He said nothing, only smiled.
“Thank you,” she whispered after what felt like an age, “for this.”
He turned toward the stars again, but she could not forget the gentleness in his dark eyes, so dark but still so very kind. Kindness, and something else, like regret. “You ought to make a habit of taking the air,” he said. “It does you good.”
“I suppose that I will,” she agreed.
“Every day?” “If there can be even a moment of reprieve from your discomfort, then it is worth the effort. That house…” he paused, “it is poison. It will leech into you until you are nothing but a shell of yourself.”
“Peggy has been here for ages and she is still herself,” Marilee countered.
“No,” he shook his head. “She is still good and kind, and strong, but I doubt she is herself. Whomever she was, whomever she will be, will only come back in time. There is a sadness in her that I fear will only abate when she is reunited with her son.”
Marilee nodded. He was right, as he often was. Peggy was a flicker of light in this dark world but she ought to have been a blaze. She was muted, as Marilee was muted. The captivity had taken something from them, something she could not name, but only feel.
“Promise you’ll sit here and look at the sky every day.” He had turned to her more fully, but did not touch her. Marilee could see that he wanted to offer her comforts, but he would not be so bold, did not want to take advantage of her need to draw on his goodness. “Promise me that you will not give up hope. No matter what happens, promise that you will remember that there is more to live for and that you will be free.”
He must have noted that her confidence had been waning these past days. The connections, the evidence that was needed for the solicitor to make his case simply were not to be found. She had doubted, had doubted more than she cared to admit. He must have seen that she was floundering even before she had recognized it in herself.
“I will try,” was all she could offer.
“I will not stop until it is done.” The resolve in his voice, the impossible promise that he vowed to fulfill, bolstered her and crushed her at the same time. “Whatever it takes, I will see this injustice put to an end, or die trying.”
“Do not say such things,” she groaned. “We are already lost; you need not fall with us.”
“You are not lost, Kate,” he murmured. “Do not lose faith now.”
Marilee took a steadying breath. “Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll take the air and from it draw my strength. For as long as I can. I promise.”
Nikolas smiled. “Every day. Doctor’s orders.”
“You aren’t a doctor,” she laughed.
“No,” he winked, “but I’m the closest thing you’ve got at the moment.” She hummed as if his assertion held no sway, but he could see that she was needling him. “Agreed?”
“Would you…” she hesitated. She hated to ask any more of him, and yet, this small reprieve had been pleasant. “Could I come out at night? Like this? Would you… would you join me? I’m not certain that I would feel safe if I were alone at night, and I had rather not be crowded in with the others at tea time or midday. There is something about the silence that soothes me.”
His gaze drifted over to the woodpile and the door behind it. She was unlikely to be allowed to pass without the beast of a man following her out into the night to ensure that she really did not attempt to scale the walls. It was unfair to ask for Nick’s protection, his company, but she had already done so and could not take it back.
“Of course,” he said with a solemn nod. “Until tomorrow.” With that he offered her his hand and pulled her to her feet. He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. For a moment he just stood and held her. She realized now that she was shivering. She had grown unused to the cool bite of the air when most of her day was spent in the sweltering washroom. Her days were spent in hell, but now, for this moment, was a bit of heaven. At last, he took her hand and led her inside. As she followed him, she thanked the doorman for her leisure. It could do no harm to earn the man’s good favor. He seemed surprised by the sentiment.
CHAPTER11
The following day, Marilee found herself looking forward to the coming evening. There had been no discoveries to be made and Lady Lydia had been in a horrendous mood, throwing things and cursing. Her betrothed had been making his visits, and it was clear she was repulsed by the man. Marilee had laid eyes on him for the first time that afternoon. If Lady Lydia was the picture of elegant beauty, then he was the opposite. He was not an ugly man. At least, the features that he had been born with were even and symmetrical, but he had a shocking scar that raked down half the length of his face and well down his neck. He was marred, and it was clear Lady Lydia could not see past the surface. She could not see anything but the disfigurement. Not when she had his angelically good-looking brother with whom to compare.
Marilee had fulfilled her duties in silence and then raced below to join Peggy with the laundry. How that aching labor had become the preferred task, she could not fathom, but Lady Lydia was truly that odious. Her moods swung on a pendulum and one never knew which end she was at until she exploded with either joy or rage. There was no in between. Surely, there must be some malady that affected her for her moods to be so explosive.
Today had been the latter. Lady Lydia had scolded a footman for announcing the duke, slapped a scullery maid for her tea being lukewarm, and tore the bedding from the four-poster bed when one of the petrified house maids had made it up in a way that was not to her liking.
