by Wendy Vella
“And it was the companion who contacted us, and you went to the Hen and Duck to meet?” Marcus asked.
“Yes, and today when I paid a call on Lady Revel to see if I could speak with her, under the guise of handing over a gift from my grandmother, she was there, lurking in the lavender.”
“I beg your pardon?” Marcus looked shocked.
“Miss March, the companion, she was there snooping, but I intercepted her and bundled her into my carriage. My driver then took her to a tea shop to wait for me.”
Jacob wished he hadn't said those last words, as Nick narrowed his eyes.
“Why would you do that?”
“She just lost her job, has had people attempting to kill her, and is a long way from home. It was the least I could do.” He shrugged.
“Where is she from?”
“Kent. Her father is a vicar and she is one of nine children.”
“You know a great deal about her,” Leo said. “How many times have you met with her?”
“Twice.”
“In two days?”
“Is that a problem?” Jacob said the words in his coolest tone. But all it did was make his friends laugh.
“Ho, I smell a pretty woman,” Leo crowed.
“No, she is simply desperate, as Lord Revel turned her off without references.” And beautiful, with the softest lips.
“There are many in just such dire circumstances,” Leo added, the smile falling from his lips. “Sometimes I am not proud of those I walk among.”
They all nodded, very aware of just what their fellow noblemen were capable of.
“Three times someone has tried to silence her,” Jacob said into the quiet, “and Miss March believes the attempts on her life were because of her interference and that Lord Revel is behind them.”
“Good God,” Marcus said.
“Someone threw her in the Thames.” Jacob felt his anger again over whoever was behind the threat to Miss March. “Another time she was pushed under a carriage.”
“And she survived?”
“She is most resourceful. Apparently she was raised to look after herself.”
“She sounds an interesting woman. Is she able to read and write? Do you trust her, Jacob?”
He nodded, not sure where Nick was going with his questions.
“Have any of you noticed that Perkins is harried at the moment? His wife has been unwell, and he has fallen behind in his work.”
“I spoke to him about it when I arrived,” Marcus said. “He looked flustered, and I offered my services but he looked horrified, so I left him to it.”
“His wife is unwell?” Jacob said.
“She had a fall, but I believe is now recovering,” Leo added.
“The reason I was asking after your Miss March, Jacob, is that perhaps she could assist Perkins until she finds work, or he has caught up with his,” Nick said.
“We don't know her!” Leo looked outraged. “Surely you can't make such a decision without a prior meeting. Plus, she is a woman. I’m not sure Perkins would be happy with that fact.”
“Jacob knows her,” Marcus said, “and she is a vicar’s daughter, I should imagine she is trustworthy. Plus, she worked for Lady Revel, and surely anyone who can tolerate her for long periods would do well alongside Perkins.”
“I have met her briefly, and do not know her character well.” Jacob wasn’t sure how he felt about Miss March working here.
“Do you trust her, Valorous?”
He found himself nodding, and wondered how he could trust her on such short acquaintance when he did not trust easily or often.
“Then that is enough for me. Perhaps a vote is in order?”
Leo grunted, but remained silent.
“Wait.” Jacob lifted a hand. “Miss March may not wish to come here; after all, she has chosen work in a brothel to put food on her table.”
“What!” Marcus look horrified. “Don't, for pity’s sake, tell Charlotte. I have only just managed to stop my wife from daily visits to that bloody house, for women who have fallen on hard times, she made me purchase. She needs no more incentive, or indeed women to care for.”
“I don't believe she is working there in the usual manner, but as yet I'm not sure what capacity she is employed at the brothel. But I will find out.” He could not bring himself to think of Miss March lying beneath a man while he took what he wanted from her. It didn't sit well with Jacob; in fact, it made him want to fly into a rage, which was a peculiar thing, as he didn't do that either.
“You sound very interested in this woman, Jacob, considering you never involve yourself personally in anything that does not concern your family.”
“Rubbish, I am constantly involved in your lives.”
“In ours, yes, but you keep your distance from everyone else.”
Jacob didn't deny it, because Nick's words were the truth. He did keep to himself, and especially now that his sister, Rachel, was married to a man who would love and care for her as she deserved.
“Rachel is to have a baby,” he said in an attempt to distract his friends. “Due in five months.”
The smiles were real, as they, like Jacob, had seen the woman his sister had been when they had rescued her from the clutches of the man who had abducted her.
She had been snatched from outside Jacob's doorstep by a man who wanted to get his hands on Jacob’s money. What had followed had been some of the worst days of his life, but now his sister was happy and safe. He was closing in on the man responsible, and when his identity was confirmed, he would be made to pay.
“Excellent, and you will be a wonderful uncle, Jacob,” Nick said.
He would be, Jacob vowed. He would make sure his niece or nephew never doubted his love for them, and that if they needed him, he would be there, unlike his parents, who had cared little for their children.
“So how are we to proceed with this Lady Revel case?” Leo brought them back to the matter at hand. “And for the record I am not sure about a woman who is working in a brothel becoming Perkins’ assistant.”
“Jacob is an excellent judge of character,” Nick said. “I trust him.”
“I did not say she would be suitable, Nick, nor that she wanted the position.” But he wanted her to take it, Jacob realized. Wanted her to have the money and work in daylight hours, and he wanted her where he could see her. And that was the most worrying thought in quite a few of them, he realized. Miss March had got to him, and he couldn’t work out how or why on such short acquaintance.
When Jacob left an hour later they had a plan in place, and he was eager to start implementing it. First he needed to send word to Miss March that he wished to meet with her, and offer her the position as Perkins’ assistant. He felt a ridiculous surge of excitement at the thought of seeing her again and tamped it down. She was a novelty and nothing more, he reminded himself.
CHAPTER FIVE
Poppy loved the market. She visited there when she could, and had a few coins to purchase food.
“Well now, Miss March, aren't you a fine sight.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dodd.”
She knew most of the vendors by now, and they shouted a greeting as she passed. It was a place of hustle and bustle, and color on a gray day. She bought a slice of bread and jam, and ate as she wandered. The air was crisp, but she enjoyed it. She smelled flowers and herbs, and loved the fresh scent of baking.
Leaving the markets an hour after arriving, she made for the narrow lane that led to the main road that would take her past the shops. Poppy liked to look in the windows and imagine what she'd purchase when she had the money to do so. First would be a new bonnet, and perhaps gloves. Her coat was still serviceable, but she could do with a new dress.
She was halfway down the small lane when she felt a shiver of awareness roll down her spine. Turning, Poppy looked but saw no one. Was she imagining things? Hardly surprising considering the attempts on her life. Picking up her skirts, she increased her pace. There were not as many people here
as there had been at the markets. But still, she was not entirely alone, so surely she was safe?
Eyes forward, she was almost running now. One more turn then she was out of the lane and on her way to Nita's, who lived only a matter of minutes away. Her dearest friend was a dressmaker, and she had the morning off, so Poppy was visiting. They would sit before a fire and eat toast and drink tea while discussing anything and everything. Nita had been Poppy’s first friend when she arrived in London. They had met in a bookstore and formed an instant bond. Her friend was going away soon, to visit her sister, so this would be their last visit together for a while.
She spun quickly on her heel as the loud thud of a boot reached her, but could not evade the man’s hand as he grabbed her arm.
“Unhand me at once!” When that failed, she began to scream. Cursing, the man started dragging her toward a building. The door was open, and she knew that was where he had come from, and this was why she hadn’t heard him. Poppy realized if he succeeded in getting her inside, she was doomed. Her life would be over. Overly dramatic perhaps, but she believed it was the truth.
Swinging at the man, she connected with his ear. He cursed but did not release her; instead he cuffed her, his fist making contact with her chin. Poppy battled to clear her head as everything started to blur.
“You won't get away with this!” She redoubled her efforts and began making as much noise as she could, but no one came to her aid. The neighborhood was not one that inspired trust, but still, surely common decency for their fellow man should send someone to help her.
“Shut up!”
He placed a large dirty hand over her mouth and she seized the opportunity and bit down hard on the fleshy palm, holding on as long as she could. His grunt of pain had him throwing her hard to the ground. Poppy tried to break her fall, and instead her head and hand took the impact. The pain was instant, but did not incapacitate her completely.
“Get up!”
He was on her in seconds, but Poppy crawled backward fast. He was big and lumbering and she had the advantage of agility. Scrambling to her feet, she ran down the alley with him on her heels.
“Stop!”
Stupid fool, did he honestly think she would?
Poppy sprinted down lane and out onto the next street, this one populated with more people thankfully.
“’Ere, watch out!”
“Sorry!” She cannoned off a woman. “I'm being chased.”
“That great lumbering beast?”
Poppy looked behind her and saw the man, then nodded.
“You run on, lovely, I'll stop him for you.”
She did as she was told. Turning to look briefly she saw the man who had grabbed her was now sprawled face-first on the road, with the woman standing over him shaking her fist.
Breathless, Poppy couldn't find a smile, so she simply turned and ran.
Jacob knocked on the front door of number sixteen, Primrose Road. The house was large and rambling. Paint was chipped and peeling off the exterior, and he noted a cracked glass window. Rubbish was piled on the front path and lined the fence. Not the most pleasant of places, but then he'd seen and been in worse. It was bloody freezing out today; the air was cold enough to force puffs of white from his mouth with every exhale.
“Good day, how may I help you, sir?”
The woman who answered the door was elderly, her lined face smiling at him. She wore a lace cap, woolen scarf to her chin, and thick shawl.
“Good day to you, ma'am, I am hoping to speak with Miss March.”
He'd had Perkins send word to Miss March several times over the last three days that he had information he needed to discuss with her, and as yet she had not replied. Which to Jacob's mind was alarming, especially as she was the one who had contacted him, and because someone was intent on harming her.
“She's on the top floor. But I haven't seen her for three days.”
“She's away?”
“Well as to that, I'm not rightly sure. Miss Pithier, who lives on the second floor, said that Miss March hadn't been in for her weekly cup of tea, but seeing as she can't get about, she never went up to check why.”
“But someone else has?”
“Has what?”
“Has anyone checked on Miss March?”
“Don't rightly know that they would. Everyone keeps to themselves, except Miss March of course. She visits everyone, and as all the occupants are elderly, they rely on her.”
“And yet no one is alarmed that they have not seen her for three days?”
“I'm not sure that she hasn't seen anyone, as I only just arrived home today from a visit with my sister. Edith and I had a lovely chat.”
Jacob was known for his calm manner. It was his strength, according to his friends. He could be relied upon to stay controlled in any situation. Now was not the time for that to falter, no matter how much his patience was being tested.
“And yet you said that Miss Pithier had not seen her.”
“Because I called up to drop off her toffee. She loves it, and I always get her some when I go to visit Edith.”
God's blood.
“Excellent, it's my fondest wish that Miss Pithier enjoys her toffee, however the more pressing matter at hand here is Miss March. Now, if you will step to one side, I shall go and check she is all right.”
The woman's face appeared to fold in on itself as she contemplated him, sucking on her bottom lip.
“I don't know as if you should be visiting Miss March, because if she is up there, she would be alone.”
“I'm her elder brother come to London for a brief visit,” Jacob lied smoothly.
The woman leaned closer.
“I suppose there's something around the eyes, but the family resemblance is not a strong one.”
“Nine children, you understand. We can't all look alike.” Jacob made himself smile, showing his teeth.
“Nice smile like her, though. Miss March is a lovely girl, always helpful if I need it.”
“Our father instilled good values in us all, ma'am. He's a vicar, you know.”
She held the door open.
“Well then, you go on up, dear. Nasty bite in the air today, and I wouldn't want you to catch a chill.”
Jacob took off his hat and nodded before entering. The paper on the walls was a dull brown and peeling. The floor rugs were worn and there was a general air of tired and shabby.
Taking the stairs, Jacob climbed.
Five days ago, he had met with her at the Hen and Duck, and since then he had done some investigating. After his friends had heard about Lady Revel, they had decided to stay in London a few more days to see what they could unearth with regards to the situation. Yesterday he had spoken with one of Lady Revel's oldest friends, Lady Carver, and was informed that she'd been turned away at the door, as Jacob had been, by the pernicious Lord Revel stating his aunt was ailing. His story was not believed.
Jacob reached the fourth floor. The rafters sloped inward and led to a small door. Knocking yielded no response. He tried again, this time louder.
“Miss March, are you in there?”
He heard a thump, and then a moan.
“Miss March?”
At the sound of movement, he felt a surge of anticipation at seeing her again. He beat it down. She was a client, a colorful one, but a client nonetheless. He had no right to feel excited and was not entirely sure why he did. Perhaps his life had become mundane?
A key turned and then the door slowly opened.
“Miss March?”
She wore her blue coat and a green scarf. Her hair wasn't on top of her head, but hung in a long tail to her waist. It was brown, a deep, nutmeg color, and Jacob had the ridiculous urge to touch it. Her face was pale, dark rings were smudged beneath her red-rimmed eyes, and her usually animated face was closed and tight with pain.
“Are you unwell?”
“I-I was resting.”
“At midday?”
“I worked late.”
�
��Are you sure you are all right?”
She nodded, and then bit her lip. “I fear I am somewhat under the weather, my lord. If you would call again another day, I would be most grateful.”
He stuck his foot in the door as she attempted to close it, and then gently removed her fingers and nudged her backward.
“My lord, please, I need to rest before I return to work this evening.”
“Did you not receive my notes?”
She shook her head and then winced.
“What is wrong with you?”
She retreated as he entered. He took a matter of seconds to scan the room. It was the size of his bed. A slight exaggeration, but not by much. A narrow bed was pushed against one wall. A small basin, and one chair. “Tiny” was being generous. Her clothes were folded neatly on the floor in the corner.
“I would like you to leave, please.”
“I will, once you tell me what is wrong with you?”
As if the effort of standing was too great, Miss March made for the bed and fell onto it. Resting her back against the wall, she looked at him. Actually, it was an attempted glare, but spoiled slightly by the trembling of her lower lip.
“I have hurt my hand and head.”
“How?”
“A man attempted to abduct me. I thwarted him, but not before he threw me to the g-ground. That was when I hurt myself.”
Her words were spoken slowly, precisely, and told him of the pain her head was giving her. She was barely moving, which Jacob knew, even after their brief acquaintance, was not the usual behavior of this woman.
“When did this happen?”
“Two days ago.”
“And your head is still hurting?” Stripping off his gloves, he pushed aside his anger that someone had tried to harm her once more and moved to her side. Pressing a palm to her forehead, he felt the heat of her skin.
“You are very hot for a cold day.”
“My head hurts if I move, therefore I am attempting not to. I shall recover, my lord, and I wish only for sleep before work. If you will leave now I shall achieve that.”
Dropping to his haunches before her, Jacob took the hand she held pressed to her middle. She was obviously cradling it against her body to protect it.
