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Marilee had found refuge with Peggy as soon as the lady was dressed.
When Mr. Crowley appeared at his usual time that evening, the women were excited to hear that he had good news, because they certainly did not.
“One of the colleagues of Crowley and Crowley came to me with a dilemma this afternoon,” he said as he crouched beside one of the copper basins and warmed his hands near the fire that blazed beneath. “One of his accounts is paying back substantial debts in large sums and he cannot place the origin.”
“Like Lady Lydia!” Peggy gasped.
“Exactly,” he nodded. “He wanted to know what to do, but was afraid that his profession would be at stake if he dug too far into the matter.”
“What did you tell him?” Marilee held her breath as she waited for the answer.
“Not much,” Mr. Crowley shrugged, “only that he should make careful inquiries and observations. I told him to take precautions and come to me with any proof that he might uncover. We have known each other for many years, and he knew well to trust me.” When he explained that he had withheld the information that he was investigating the same issue at Blackwell house, Marilee breathed a sigh of relief. “I will have to tell him eventually, so that we can determine if the cases are tied, but I will not risk our plans falling to naught before we can act ourselves. If he finds his own proof first, then I will enlist him to help us. If we find proof, I will share the knowledge with him and hope to bring both houses down in tandem.”
“Do you really think that they are linked?” Peggy wondered aloud.
“Not necessarily, which is why I did not share my own concerns with him, but they may be and if so, we may just be able to find your friend,” he nodded to Peggy before turning to Marilee, “and your cousin.”
Heaven be praised, may they have just discovered the house of Miss Caroline’s imprisonment? Marilee wondered. She could hardly allow herself to hope.
“Did he give you a name to his account?” Marilee gasped. Perhaps Mr. Crowley could go to the place and look for Miss Caroline. Perhaps he could verify that she was alive and well, or even sneak her out before anyone was the wiser. She could be rescued before even the ransom was called into order. Not that she had much faith in that at this point. She had not heard even a single mutter that the demand had been made to the Baron Wickham. Although how such information would make its way into Blackwell house, she did not know. Perhaps the thugs were negotiating a deal this very minute.
He shook his head and her musing came to a precipitous halt.
“It is too tenuous a situation for us to trade names as of yet,” he explained. “To cast such doubt on a peer, as you well know, is very dangerous. He is skittish and concerned, but he has been in the business long enough to know that it is far more common than any of us would like to admit. Mostly, I believe he was looking for a way to convince his client to disclose the information so that he could record it according to the proper legal avenues.”
“Not one, but two straight solicitors!” Peggy teased. “Who would have thought?”
“Yes. Well.” He sighed. “There are a fair number of crooks among us, but the numbers are more heavily weighted toward those that simply want to do our job according to the law when we can.” Marilee smiled to herself at his words. She doubted that Mr. Crowley had ever expected to be tangled up in his current mess and yet here he was, trading secrets against a powerful family.
* * *
When they had exhaustedall of their questions and received a bit of relevant information, the gentleman decided it was high time that they head out to the yard. Peggy was invited to accompany them, but she once again feigned a yawn and waved them away with a twinkle in her eye. That meddlesome maid, Marilee thought, but she appreciated Peggy dearly.
They had made their way past the guard who winked at them, and settled on the cold stone bench, Marilee found she was not in the mood for silence. The thought that Mr. Crowley may have discovered one of the other deplorable houses in London had enlivened her. There would be more, she knew it as well as she knew her own name, but it was a start, a small chink in the armor of the network of debauchery that was the London underworld. So it was that she found that she needed to expel some of her budding excitement.
“You said that your father was a physician,” she began, hoping that it would lead the man at her side into revealing more about himself. She found that she did want to know more, and that surprised her. “What made you decide to study the law?”
He contemplated his answer and then smiled. “I don’t much care for suffering,” he finally revealed. “It is true that a surgeon can help many people, but they also fall witness to just as much death and pain. I think that a part of me hoped to be spared from that in my position.” He had not been spared; Marilee finished his thought. Instead, he had stumbled upon a plot rife with suffering.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he contended as he took her hand. “But I, on the other hand…”
Marilee looked down at their joined fingers and felt a flutter of excitement. He did not know her, any more than she knew him. He did not even know that he was sitting beside a woman who had been witness to death in the most brutal form. His path had not led him to ease, as he had expected, but rather to those who had experienced loss, abduction, and murder. It must have weighed on him.
Marilee was lost in her thoughts, but he took a breath of the cool air and continued his tale. The sound broke her from her reverie.
“I like figures and potions,” he said. “I am also very analytical by nature, but not actually very good with money.”
“Surely, you jest.” She grinned.
“I tend to spend it on the poor. There are quite a lot of poor in London.”
“You apprenticed here in London?” she asked, feeling that the subject was safe enough.
He nodded. “Yes. As an apothecary,” he said.
“What?” She was confused now. This made no sense. Wasn’t he the Blackwell’s solicitor?
