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“They killed the duke,” Marilee protested weakly. “He’s dead. We are all dead.”
* * *
Marilee was awakenedby a gentle shaking of her shoulder. A young girl perhaps five years Marilee’s junior was kneeling at the side of her bed with a steaming cup of tea in her hand.
“You are not dead,” she said. “Although you might wish to be before it is all said and done.”
She waited for Marilee to pull herself into an upright position and rub the sleep from her eyes. “I was dreaming,” she said. Marilee felt bruised and tired from the past day, but she attempted a smile at the young girl, and then everything that happened the night before came flooding back to her.
“I overslept?” Marilee worried. The last thing that she wanted was to start off on the wrong foot with Mrs. Cavendish.
“No,” the girl smiled and held the tea out for Marilee to accept. “I didn’t wake you.” Marilee looked around at the number of neatly made beds and confirmed that she had not been alone last night.
“I lit the fires, but it took an hour for the water to warm enough for us to get to work,” the girl said. “I thought perhaps you could use the extra rest after your ordeal.”
“Thank you,” Marilee offered a small smile as she blew across the steaming cup.
“I assume you came in in the dead of night.” The woman grinned.
“Is that the normal way of it?” Marilee asked as she sipped the tea.
“It is,” the girl said. She crossed her arms, sat on the edge of the bed and settled her chin over her hands. “I’m Peggy.”
Marilee paused for a moment before replying. A part of her wanted to tell Peggy her real name. It was so easy to trust this sweet girl at her side, but she also worried that doing so could be dangerous to herself and Miss Caroline. Marilee had an open and honest heart that tended to trust easily. Peggy could have been instructed to earn Marilee’s trust. Marilee knew she had to keep her cards close if she ever stood a chance at freedom. She hoped that Peggy was as true as she seemed, but only time would tell. Until she was sure, she would be cautious.
“Kate,” Marilee replied with a friendly bob.
“Well, Kate, let’s get you some porridge, and then we can attack the mountain of clothes.” Peggy offered a grimace. “Mrs. Cavendish might actually be nice to us for a day or two if we make progress. Well, perhaps not exactly nice, but indifferent. That is the best we can hope for.”
A few minutes later, with cold porridge in hand, Peggy opened the door to the laundry and put the bowls near the fire. “Come on, I wasn’t lying about the porridge being cold,” she said.
Marilee wrinkled her nose, but Peggy held one finger to her lips and smiled. “I like to set my bowl near the fire beneath the basins until it warms. As long as there isn’t any soot on it, it’s good to eat, and when it goes back to the kitchen, well, they’ll never know, will they?” She grinned.
Marilee took a moment to evaluate the room. Three large copper basins sat in the center of the room over low pits that held neat piles of wood waiting to be lit. A massive hood angled to a chimney that was meant to vent away the smoke, but Marilee knew the room would be stifling once the fires were ablaze. Already it was uncomfortably warm, and the water had not yet started to boil. On the far side of the room was a stack of wood that reached nearly to the ceiling. It was the only thing taller than the pile of linens that had been thrown unceremoniously on the table. Behind the pile, Marilee suspected a window, but even that was difficult to see save for the merest glimpse of a paned corner.
On the floor to either side of the table stood veritable mountains of bedding and what must have been servant’s clothes. They reached nearly chest-high to Marilee and were twice as wide as they were tall. Another table near the door held several dozen gowns and suitcoats that had been laid out with more care. Racks for drying lined the final wall and held a handful of items, but not nearly enough to make a dent in the task.
The room was crowded, dark and wholly wretched. Peggy lit the lamps that sat on pedestals in each corner of the room. It brightened the space, but not enough to chase away the feeling of doom that seemed to have settled over Marilee. Or perhaps the doom simply pervaded the entire house and could never be chased away.
“Help me to fold these,” Peggy said about some of the items hanging on the drying rack. “We will take them to the kitchen before we begin washing.”
Marilee nodded her assent.
* * *
Mr. Nikolas Harding,sans Mr. Crowley, stood at the door to the house with his hand upraised. There seemed to be somewhat of a commotion around at the mews, but that was not unusual. Blackwell House was generally in an uproar. He walked around to investigate. The mistress of the house, Lady Lydia, was a particular sort of woman. Still, he had no business to find fault with her. In his eyes, most women were shrews. She was just the worst of her kind: vain, entitled, and demanding. He hated that he was beholden to the woman.
Presently, Lady Lydia was whipping a mare, who rolled her eyes and looked about to bolt with the lady still aloft. Mr. Crowley, in an attempt to save the headstrong miss, took control of the reins on the ground, attempting to calm the mare, and received a lash for his trouble. He released the horse immediately, and the groom came to the lady’s aid instead.
“Aye my lady, the beast is just spirited, is all,” he said. “We’ll have her tamed in no time.”
“See that you do,” the lady snapped, allowing the groom to help her dismount. “I don’t want to see the beast again until she is settled. I have no use for a creature that does not know its place.”
Her eyes strayed to Mr. Crowley, and he felt she was talking about him more than the horse. He bowed smartly to the lady.
“A new acquisition?” Mr. Crowley questioned with an eye to the lovely piece of horseflesh. Someone was missing the animal, he thought. She was a fine high stepper, that one.
“Yes,” the lady said. “And that is not all. Come inside and you can see to the paperwork,” she said.
