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Marilee frowned at the thought and then thrust it away. How could she trust anything this mad woman said?
“I can’t…” she began.
“It’s okay,” Lady Lydia soothed. “He won’t suspect you, or the potion. It’s not one of his own. Ed gave it to me so you need not worry that Mr. Crowley will recognize it. After all, we needed to replace his sleeping potions, anyway. He is not the only apothecary in Town. He is not even the best of them.
“Apothecary?” Marilee said her heart growing cold. “I thought he was a solicitor; your solicitor?”
Marilee felt dizzy with the realization that he had lied to her.
“Oh yes, that,” Lady Lydia said. “He is after a fact. Mr. Crowley still puts his seal to the papers, but the real Mr. Crowley has actually been dead for over a year.” She giggled in a quite girlish manner.
Marilee wondered suddenly if this woman had killed the solicitor; or rather had him killed. Perhaps he too was getting too close to her secrets. Her head was spinning.
“This Mr. Crowley is not Mr. Crowley at all,” she chuckled. “He is not even a solicitor, although he has been impersonating one, and doing the job quite well until recently. He is an apothecary, but he was not very good at that job.”
Marilee frowned trying to take in all the information. She would not usually be one to take Lady Lydia at her word, but there was a horrifying ring of truth to the words. The fact that he knew how to stitch a wound for Lucy and how to make the poultice to put on her back when she was hurt was damning indeed, and then she remembered him saying of the perfume that she smelled at the brothel.I made the perfume. I dabble in such things. and when she accused him; told him she smelled the scent at the brothel, he did not tell her the truth. No. he said, “I have no control over the goods after they leave my shop.” Only that was not true. He chose. And he lied to her. He flat out lied to her.
“You get the laudanum from him?” Marilee said, feeling slightly sick that the dose which rendered her and Miss Caroline unconscious came from his hand.
“Well, not anymore,” Lady Lydia said. “He knows too much, and he has become a liability.”
Marilee stood shaking her head. She was not sure if it was denying his duplicity or refusing Lady Lydia’s command to kill him.
Lady Lydia assumed the later.
“Well dear,” she continued, “it’s got to be done, and he certainly doesn’t trust anyone else.” Lady Lydia stood and picked at her nails as if the conversation were boring her. “I can find other ways if you refuse, but those always get so messy. Don’t you think?”
Slowly, Marilee willed her breathing to steady. She must not give away that the knowledge that Lady Lydia wanted Nikolas dead was tearing her insides to pieces. His betrayal along with all the nightmares that she had been having of his demise now surged into the forefront of her mind with a vengeance. She realized that even if he were guilty, she didn’t want him dead. She certainly didn’t want him dead at her hand. Yet, if she refused, Lady Lydia would still have him killed, and Marilee did not have the means to protect him or even send a warning. Her head was whirling with a cacophony of thoughts.
“Why must he die?” she asked. It took every ounce of strength within her not to allow her voice to crack or tears spill over. Instead, she nursed her anger and turned the conversation to herself. Lady Lydia understood selfishness. “I’ve done what you asked of me. Everything you asked. Haven’t my… efforts… been worthwhile?”
“They have, darling,” Lady Lydia crooned as she tucked a curl behind Marilee’s ear reminding her unwittingly of Nikolas doing the same. Marilee sucked in a breath.
Lady Lydia clucked and sighed, fussing over her like one might an imbecile that they pitied, but would not deign to help. “That is why I am trusting you to do this. You have already done so well.”
“Then, why?” Marilee pressed. She clutched the vial so tightly in her hand that she feared it would break. Who knew the strength of the contents within? Perhaps even touching her skin would be enough to do her in. She forced herself to loosen her grip and repeated the question, feigning acquiescence. “If I am to do this, I must know the whole truth. If I am risking my neck, I want a part of it.” Her eyes narrowed. She would find out something that could put this woman away for a very long time. She must.
“You!” Lady Lydia grumbled and pouted but the carrot Marilee dangled was too much to resist. “Very well, then. Your efforts have been quite effective when it comes to Mr. Crowley. However, the magistrate hasn’t let up. One of his undercover men,” she laughed, “as if we did not know who he was… well, he came to the Sparrow Club, Friday last and was asking all manner of questions of the girls thinking himself covert.” She paused. “I’m told you’ve been there?”
Marilee nodded. The Sparrow Club. The brothel. And if the magistrate had sent an agent to investigate, then they must be getting close! Marilee did her best not to appear pleased. She still did not understand how Lady Lydia would have connected the magistrate to Mr. Crowley and she dared not ask.
“Then let us not pretend that you are unaware of my… arrangements. So, you see then that I cannot be affiliated with such an establishment. I am a lady.”
Marilee thought she was stretching the definition of lady rather thin, but said nothing.
Lady Lydia shrugged. “If the magistrate is investigating, then he will soon attempt to contact Mr. Crowley for my records of payments, if he has not already done so, and since Mr. Crowley, the real Mr. Crowley is dead, he cannot be contacted. The ruse is up. Plus, I am told that my runner has been compromised.” James, Marilee thought feeling a stab of compassion for the young boy caught up in this mire.
“Although I have been careful in my deposits, Mr. Harding knows more than he should, and it is clear he will no longer keep his mouth shut.”
“No longer,” Marilee breathed. “Then he has done so in the past?”
“Under duress,” Lady Lydia agreed. “But ease your overactive conscience and rest assured your Mr. Crowley is no innocent. Half of Fleet Street knows he poisoned his wife.”
“What!”
“You did not know, dear?” she crooned. “That he poisoned her, or that he had a wife?”
Marilee’s head was awhirl. He had not mentioned a wife. He had said he made a perfume, and then changed the subject. She shook her head. “No,” she said. “I don’t believe it. I won’t.”
