by Wendy Vella
“Please listen to him, Mr. Bidwell, he means only to help her.” The butler nodded at Poppy’s words, then stood to one side.
“It is the staff’s wish that someone help her, Miss March, and we will all be grateful if you have achieved that.”
Poppy rushed to squeeze the solemn-faced butler’s hand as she led the rest of them inside. People trusted her, Jacob realized, and the shame he already wore grew heavier. He had treated her badly, but would make amends, he vowed. As yet he was unsure how.
“Well, that went smoother than expected.”
“That is only the first obstacle, Lady Carver. The gatekeeper will be another matter entirely,” Nick said.
They climbed the stairs, and neither of the two maids they saw said a word, although they looked terrified. A woman was seated beside Lady Revel's door when they approached.
“Who are you?” She got to her feet. Large, with blunt features, she did not look intimidated to see such a party approaching at such an early hour.
“We have come to visit with Lady Revel,” Jacob said calmly. “We believe she is being mistreated, and you can stand aside and let us enter or we shall make you.”
“Make her,” Lady Carver said with relish. Poppy was still pressed to her side, as if the elderly woman was protecting her and not the other way around. Jacob had the urge to snatch her to his side. “If she's had a hand in Bertha's mistreatment, she deserves a serving of the same, Lord Hatherton.”
Elegant to her toes in deep rust, Lady Carver was at least sixty-five, and beneath her sweet façade lay a woman with an iron backbone.
“I-I'll tell Lord Revel.” The woman's eyes shot from Nick to Leo, and back to Jacob.
“You do that,” Leo said, stepping closer. “And while you are there, perhaps you can inform him that the magistrate should be arriving shortly.”
She backed away as they approached, and then turned and ran.
“She probably took the key with her,” Nick said, pulling out a small tool. He then got to work on the lock, grunting when he heard a satisfying click.
Jacob opened the door and entered.
Poppy looked down at the dear, sweet woman she had been companion to. She lay in a large bed in Lady Carver's house, in a deep sleep. She had not woken when the doctor had examined her, nor when Lord Revel had rushed into the room shouting.
She found a small smile at the memory of Lord Hatherton punching him hard, and the man running away squealing like a piglet after he had staggered to his feet. Lord Hatherton had then picked up Lady Revel and carried her from the house, with the others on his heels. They had taken her directly to Lady Carver's. Once there she had been settled in a room and the doctor had examined her thoroughly before leaving to collect what he needed to treat the elderly woman. Poppy had heard him say he was not sure she would recover, but he would do his best to ensure that happened.
The Lords of Night Street had left. Lord Hatherton had tried to talk with Poppy again, but she had ignored his overtures, instead standing beside Lady Revel's bedside with the elderly woman’s cold hand in hers.
She would have to leave London now, return home to her family, as there was nothing else for her here. She was done, beaten. She wanted only the peace and love that she would get from the large, boisterous March family home. Given time, she would heal, but right now, she had finally reached the end of her strength. It would return, as it was not her way to feel low for long periods, but right now she wanted to cry on the shoulder of someone who loved her as much as she loved them.
How could you love and hate a person, Poppy wondered? But then in the cold hard light of morning, she had also realized what an innocent fool she had been. Lord Hatherton cared nothing for her. Yes, she knew he was a good man, no one who did what he did couldn't be. But he was an aristocrat. A man who'd been born into privilege. He would wed a titled woman and dally with people like her. Silly fool that she was, she’d been naïve to believe otherwise.
Passion, Poppy realized, made fools of sane people.
“There is little we can do now, Miss March, but be here for her when she wakes.”
Lady Carver moved to her side and placed a gentle hand on Poppy's arm.
“Your tears tell me of your feelings for my dear friend, Miss March. And you must come here to visit with her whenever you wish to. I will ensure she is safe from that vile nephew of hers, and that he is dealt with accordingly for what he has done.”
“Thank you so much for being here to help Lady Revel. I know she will be in wonderful hands with you. However, I fear I shall be going away for a while so I will be unable to visit. If it is acceptable to you, I will however write to enquire after Lady Revel, and when I return I shall call upon her?”
“Of course, my dear. But must you go?”
“I must. It has been too long since I have seen my family, and find lately that I am missing them more and more.”
Time and distance, Poppy hoped, would help to ease the pain of loving Lord Hatherton, and help her live with the shame of what she had done.
Poppy kissed one of Lady Revel's pale cheeks, then left Lady Carver's house. She made her way to Night Street. The distance was not great by carriage, but by foot it would take her forty minutes. Still, she needed the time to think and compose herself, and prepare what she would say to Mr. Perkins. How she would tell him she was leaving and to thank him for allowing her to work with him. Poppy prayed Lord Hatherton was not there; she had no wish to see him again, now or ever.
“There she is.”
She heard the words, but was too late to stop the sack from lowering over her head. She tried to fight off the hands that grabbed her, but they were too many and too strong. Poppy was lifted and then landed on the floor of a carriage, and soon it was racing through London at a cracking pace. When would someone realize she was missing, and more importantly, would they even care?
“Good morning,” Jacob said, entering the office. He braced himself to see Poppy, and refused to acknowledge the disappointment when she wasn't seated at her desk. Instead Leo was leaning on it, talking to Perkins.
“Lord Hatherton. Miss March has not arrived for work this morning.”
“You know I do not like to gloat, Jacob, and ‘I told you so’ should be beneath me, but, I told you so. We should never have employed someone we knew so little about. Especially not a woman.”
“You said you liked her,” Jacob snapped, knowing his friend was deliberately needling him. “In fact you said a great deal more, but that is not up for discussion. Did she send a note, Perkins?”
Jacob had not seen Poppy yesterday. He had deliberately stayed away from Night Street to give himself time to think. It hadn't helped. The more he thought, the more he realized that Poppy had become important to him, and that he had behaved like a fool, speaking to her as he had. He had tested what lay inside him last night after he'd finally reached his bed, and found that he did care for Poppy more than he had allowed himself to acknowledge.
“No word, my lord, and Miss March is not the type of person who simply does not turn up for work. I am sure of that.”
He had never seen Perkins upset before. In fact, he'd never seen any emotion on Perkins’ face before. The man was wringing his hands, for pity’s sake, and Jacob did not like the sudden flutter of panic that had begun inside him.
“Stay calm, Perkins. I'm sure there is a rational reason for Miss March's absence.” Leo looked at Jacob. “Can you shed any light as to why she has not turned up?”
Had she done so because of him? Had he traumatized her? Had his actions sent her running back to the brothel, or... Christ. Had she left London? Could he have finally broken Poppy’s indomitable spirit with what transpired between them two night ago, and she’d run to the arms of her family?
“Miss March is a reliable and trustworthy young woman,” Perkins was saying. “She would never have let us down this way. I fear something has befallen her. Something that is stopping her from coming to Night Street.”
&nb
sp; “Good lord, Perkins, how can you know that on such a short acquaintance?” Leo scoffed.
“I know Miss March, and she would not do this, Lord Vereton.”
“Does she have anyone she is close to in London, Perkins? Has she discussed visiting anyone?” Jacob asked.
“Just that she was going to visit friends the other night on the way home from work. She did not say who, and I did not pry, as Miss March was not herself lately.”
Jacob battled the guilt. He knew why she had not been herself, and was sure he was solely responsible.
“How many friends does she have?” Leo said.
“Two close ones is my understanding, my lord, but she has several acquaintances.”
“Good Lord, she really only has two friends here?”
Leo could be arrogant and opinionated. Past experience had allowed him to form a deep mistrust of women, but he also had a gentle, caring streak that he battled to keep hidden. His concern that Poppy had only two friends would be real.
“Yes. Charlie, her friend from Tittleton, the village she was raised in, is usually working at Miss Saffron's brothel, so she does not see a great deal of him, and Miss Nita, who is a seamstress.”
“I don’t believe I have ever heard you say the word brothel before, Perkins?” Leo looked shocked.
Two flags of red colored Perkins’ cheeks.
“Sh-she has been quite open and honest with me, my lords, therefore I know a great deal about Miss March now. She was to come home to visit with Mrs. Perkins soon.”
Leo seemed stunned silent by this piece of news, so Jacob spoke.
“So this Charlie in all likelihood got her the position at Miss Saffron's. Although I hardly see that as a sign of friendship.”
“She has only two friends?” Leo said again. “Can you imagine that, Jacob?”
He couldn't, and the pain in his chest told him he did not like to think of Poppy in the city of London with only two people at her back.
“Anyone else she could be visiting, Perkins? Any name that may help locate her?” Jacob asked.
“There is the Hardy family, with the unfortunate son.”
“Niven. Yes, I met him.”
“When, and why is he unfortunate?” Leo asked, but Jacob waved him silent.
“Miss Nita is at present visiting her sister as she is due to have a baby, so Miss March would not be there.”
He wasn't sure why, but that he had never heard of this Nita, but Perkins had, annoyed Jacob.
“I fear she has met danger, Lord Hatherton.”
“Surely not?” Leo looked from Perkins to Jacob. “You both believe it, don’t you?”
Jacob nodded. “We shall drive to Miss March's house at once, Perkins, and if she is not there….”
“I shall see if I can find the address of the Hardy family, my lord.”
Jacob gave Perkins a short nod, then left the office, with Leo on his heels.
“Miss March's house, Hamley, and as fast as you can!”
“Care to tell me what transpired between you and Poppy two nights ago, Jacob?” Leo said once they were seated and the carriage moving.
Jacob sighed. “I've been a fool, Leo.”
“Undoubtedly. But are you now a clearheaded fool?”
Was he? Jacob thought about Poppy and nodded. “Yes. I cannot stop thinking about her. She is so different from any other woman of my acquaintance. Except perhaps Charlotte and Grace.”
Leo snorted. “What is it with the Lords of Night Street, that they cannot settle for a sweet-natured, boring woman of nobility?”
“God's blood!” The sound exploded from Jacob. His friend just sat silently watching him. “I have made her run, Leo, I am almost sure of that.”
“Then we must catch her, Jacob.”
“What if we can't?” The thought made him ill.
Leo made a grunting sound. “When have we failed in a mission?”
“I... yes, I take your meaning,” Jacob said, inhaling deeply. They would find her, and he would apologize, and tell her.... What would he tell her?
“Does the look of wonderment on your face have anything to do with the realization that you love Miss March?”
“For someone who has the emotions of a piece of ten-day-old bread, you certainly seem quite happy to discuss mine.”
“I told you that lately my thoughts have changed.” Leo lifted a hand as Jacob opened his mouth. “They have changed toward you, and the others, not toward me or my belief that I will in all likelihood grow old alone.”
“You won't,” Jacob said. “Some poor woman will see your faults and decide you can be changed. That she can reach through that ice-cold veneer you portray to everyone but us and save you.”
Leo shuddered. “Lord, that sounds painful.”
“It is,” Jacob said softly. “Extremely.”
The rest of the drive to Poppy's house was conducted in tense silence. He prayed he would find her there, and if he did he would do whatever it took to beg her forgiveness. Jacob had the door open before the carriage had stopped.
Please, dear God, let her be up there.
He rapped on the front door, but it was not answered quickly enough for him, so Jacob turned the handle and entered.
“Who are you?”
An elderly woman was stomping toward him, leaning heavily on a cane. Dressed in black, she had a thick gray shawl around her stooped shoulders. Her cap was black, face showing the lines of age, but her eyes were sharp, like two blackcurrants pressed into dough.
“I am Miss March's brother, and this is a friend of mine, Mr. Pudding.”
Leo didn't blink, he was more than used to carrying off an alias, even Mr. Pudding.
“How do you do.” Leo took the lady's hand and bowed grandly over it.
“One of them nine March siblings, are you?”
“The eldest,” Jacob said, looking to the stairs. Was Poppy up there? “And I wish to see my sister one last time before leaving London. Do you know if she is currently in her room, Mrs.?”
“Miss Pithier,” she said. “Poppy missed tea with me yesterday, and it is not like her.”
The tension inside Jacob coiled tighter.
“When did you last see her, Miss Pithier?”
The elderly woman thought about that for a few seconds, and Jacob wanted to roar at her to hurry, but Leo gave him a look that suggested he kept his mouth shut.
“Three days ago, but then I haven’t been out a great deal. Too cold. I asked after her with Mr. Beedle, and he has not seen her either.” Miss Pithier shook her head. “’Tis not like Poppy, you understand. She reads to me, you see, and we are at an exciting chapter in the Romley adventures.”
“Book four?” Leo said, and the woman nodded. “It is the best book of the series to my mind.”
As he looked ready to settle in for a nice chat over the Romley Adventures with Miss Pithier, Jacob elbowed him.
“Thank you, Miss Pithier, I shall go up and check my sister’s room.” Jacob took the stairs at a run, and did not stop until he had reached the top. Knocking on Poppy's door got no answer. Trying the handle, Jacob found it locked, so dropped his shoulder into it. The door sprang wide.
“Lord, will you look at this place. It's no bigger than my bedroom. In fact, my bedroom is bigger.”
“You know how people live, Leo, and that most do so in conditions worse than this,” Jacob said as he moved around the small space. Everything was neat. Her bed was made, coat and hat gone, but nothing else. Her clothes still sat in a neat pile on the floor. Where was she?
“I don't know them, Jacob. But I know Poppy, therefore seeing how she is forced to live is a shock.”
He grunted but kept walking around the small space, as if some clue as to her whereabouts would materialize. Where is she?
“You!”
Jacob turned at the roared word and found Niven Hardy in the doorway, his face clenched in anger.
“When did you last see Poppy?” The man blinked at Jacob’s demand. “She
did not turn up for work yesterday or today. I am trying to find her, and have no time for your theatrics, Mr. Hardy. Therefore, speak or step aside.” Jacob could hear the anger in his words. Anger and fear. Something was very wrong. It had been simmering inside him, but now, standing here among her things, the feeling had intensified.
“She was due to come for a meal with my family last night, but did not make it.”
Every word confirmed something was not right. Poppy would never let people down; it was not in her nature, even considering his treatment of her.
“Do you fear she has met with trouble, sir?”
“I do, Mr. Hardy.” Jacob handed the man a card. “If you receive word from her, then contact me at this address at once.”
Running back down the stairs, he told Hamley to take him to Lord Revel's house.
“You fear he has done something to Poppy?”
“Poppy believed him responsible for the previous attempts on her life, so following that logic, it must be he who is now responsible for her disappearance.”
Fear rode him as he leaped from the carriage once more and ran up the path to Lord Revel's front door. He banged the knocker loudly, and it was answered seconds later.
“Is Lord Revel at home?” Jacob stepped inside.
“What do you want now!” Revel appeared, looking harried. Hair a mess, shirt points wilting. “It is not enough to bring the magistrate on me, I must now endure more from you!”
“Where is Miss March?” Jacob stepped close to the man and watched his eyes widen in fear. “Tell me now, and I may let you live.”
“Jacob,” Leo warned, but he ignored him.
“She told me of the attempts on her life. The river and carriage that nearly ran her over. Then there were the abductions.”
“I have no time for you or that meddlesome woman, I—”
Jacob grabbed his shirt at the neck and twisted. “Tell me where she is.”
“Tw-twice,” the man stuttered. “The river and the c-carriage,” he squealed, “but I know nothing of the the others!”
