by Laura Beers
“Why did you have to kill her?”
Miss Gaillard crouched down in front of Madalene. “Because she started asking too many questions, so I needed her to disappear,” she answered.
“Why not just abduct her but keep her alive?”
“Then I would have been forced to take care of her, and that was too much trouble,” Miss Gaillard remarked without a hint of remorse. “Instead, we just threw her unconscious body off the bridge.”
“We?”
Miss Gaillard rose. “Your solicitor, Mr. Walker, helped me. He is a good man. It is a shame that he will be hung for treason.”
“Treason?” she asked. “Why?”
“After we depart from the Blue Boar, I have no doubt that agents will raid the pub, and they will arrest all of the conspirators.”
“But not you?”
With a shake of her head, Miss Gaillard replied, “I intend to ride with your suitor to Fieldstone Square myself. We are to attend Lord Desmond’s rally, and I don’t dare miss it.”
“You are mistaken. I don’t have a suitor.”
“No?” Miss Gaillard asked. “You are not being courted by Lord Hawthorne?”
“I am not.”
Miss Gaillard tilted her head. “That is a shame, no? Not only is he handsome, but he is quite rich, as well.”
“He is handsome,” Madalene admitted, “but we aren’t courting.”
“Do you object to him being a spy?”
Madalene looked up at Miss Gaillard in confusion. “Pardon?”
Miss Gaillard gasped in delight and brought her hand up to cover her mouth. “You didn’t know he was an agent of the Crown, did you?”
“I did not.” Madalene felt like a fool that she hadn’t pieced that together sooner.
Lowering her hand, Miss Gaillard said, “When my partner first informed me of Baldwin, I had my own suspicions. I decided to follow him one night, and I saw him leaving the rookeries in ragged clothes and renting a hackney. You can only imagine my surprise when he pulled up in front of Hawthorne House and entered by way of the main door.”
A self-satisfied smile came to Miss Gaillard’s lips. “Lord Hawthorne wasn’t even aware that I continued to follow him over the course of a few days, including when he repeatedly met with you. If our circumstances were different, I would even be hoping that you two would marry.”
“Wonderful,” Madalene muttered.
“I take it that you are displeased, and I will inform him of that when I speak to him.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Madalene asserted. “I shall speak to him when I have the chance.”
Miss Gaillard’s lips dropped to a frown. “I’m afraid that is impossible,” she shared. “I intend to kill him in a few hours.”
Madalene felt her heart drop at Miss Gaillard’s remark. “Why would you kill him?”
“I know he has no intention of driving the wagon to the rally, so I am going to have to blackmail him to force his hand,” Miss Gaillard announced proudly. “That is where you come in.”
“Why me?”
Miss Gaillard gave her a concerned look. “I fear that my blow to your head has rattled your brain. I believe I have properly explained it, but I will explain it in more simple terms for you.” She paused. “Lord Hawthorne will drive the wagon to the rally because your life will depend on it.”
“Please don’t do this,” Madalene pleaded as she attempted to loosen her bonds.
“It is either your life, or he will detonate a bomb that will kill hundreds of people,” Miss Gaillard said. “Which one do you think he will pick?”
Madalene shook her head. “He won’t pick me.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Miss Gaillard remarked. “I have seen the way he looks at you. He looks like a man who is besotted.”
“Regardless, my life is not worth killing hundreds of innocent people.”
Miss Gaillard leaned down and patted her cheek. “I am wagering that Lord Hawthorne will think differently.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“My father was betrayed by British agents,” Miss Gaillard said. “Do you know who one of those agents was?”
She shook her head, more gently this time.
“Lord Desmond,” Miss Gaillard replied. “When the bomb goes off in the crowd, I will be a short distance away with a rifle to ensure that he doesn’t leave the podium alive.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Madalene asserted. “You can just walk away from this, and no one else has to die.”
Miss Gaillard gave her a sad smile. “A part of me died the day my father was executed, and every day a little more of me dies inside.”
“Let me help you,” Madalene attempted. “I can give you money, lots of it, and you can just return to France.”
“This isn’t about the money,” Miss Gaillard said as she took a step back. “This is about revenge.”
“Miss Gaillard, please—”
“My name is Marie,” she said, speaking over her, “and I am tired of living a lie.”
Marie picked up a bullet from the table and placed it on the ground next to Madalene. “If you try to escape before the sun sets,” she threatened emotionlessly, “I won’t hesitate to kill you the next time we meet.”
Madalene’s eyes grew wide as she bobbed her head. It was evident that Marie meant every word.
“I’m glad that we can see eye to eye, Mademoiselle Dowding,” Marie remarked with a sinister smile. “Although, I am sorry that I have to kill Lord Hawthorne, but I have no doubt that you will have another suitor before long.”
Not bothering to wait for her response, Marie left, closing the door behind her. Madalene didn’t dare move from her spot until she heard the sound of the wagon being pulled away by a team of horses.
When it grew quiet once more, Madalene struggled to stand, then glanced out the curtained window. There was no one in the courtyard, and nothing that could help her. She turned back towards the table and saw a large shard of metal.
Madalene picked it up with her fingers and started rubbing it back and forth over the rope. It finally started fraying after what felt like hours but was probably only moments. She continued using the metal shard until the rope was weak enough that she was able to break through it.
As the rope dropped to the floor, she took a moment to run her hands over her reddened wrists and inspect the cuts on her fingers from the metal shard. She wondered what she could possibly do to warn Lord Hawthorne of Marie’s evil designs.
“Think,” Madalene said, thinking out loud. “What would Lord Hawthorne do?”
Madalene frowned, knowing exactly what he would say to her at this precise moment. He would have chided her for leaving the muff pistol in her reticule, which she had left on Edith’s dressing table. She hadn’t thought that through when she went to search the wagon and outbuilding. Then again, who would have thought that Miss Gaillard was mad and intended to use the wagon to blow up hundreds of innocent people?
Either way, she needed to retrieve the muff pistol and somehow find a way to stop Marie from killing anyone else.
Madalene opened the door and ran across the courtyard. She raced up the steps and nearly collided with Mrs. Kipper at the top of the stairs.
“Where have you been, Miss Dowding?!” Mrs. Kipper exclaimed in astonishment. “Whatever happened to you?”
“Follow me,” Madalene ordered as she ran towards Edith’s room. “I need you to send word to the constable that someone is planning on blowing up a bomb at Fieldstone Square during Lord Desmond’s rally today.”
“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Kipper asked with labored breath as she stopped at the doorway.
Madalene picked up her reticule and reached inside for the muff pistol. She pulled it out and held it in her hand. The housekeeper’s eyes grew wide.
“Miss Gaillard is not who we thought she was,” Madalene explained. “She is mad and wants to kill hundreds of people.”
Mrs. Kipper frowned. “That is impos
sible. Miss Gaillard is such a nice woman.”
“We were all deceived by her, but she admitted to me that she killed Edith,” Madalene replied, returning the pistol to her reticule. “We need to stop her before it is too late.”
Mrs. Kipper’s face paled. “Why would she kill Edith?”
“That isn’t important right now,” Madalene asserted as she slipped the reticule around her right wrist, wincing at the pain from her earlier bonds. “I need you to focus, Mrs. Kipper. Can you go inform the constable of what Miss Gaillard intends to do?”
With a nod, Mrs. Kipper replied, “I will go myself.”
“Good,” Madalene replied as she hurried out of the room.
Mrs. Kipper called after her. “Where are you going?”
“I am going to find a way to stop Marie from killing Lord Hawthorne!” Madalene shouted over her shoulder.
“Who is Marie?” Mrs. Kipper yelled back.
Madalene didn’t have time to stop and explain. Instead, she ran out the main door and approached a hackney that was parked down the street from the orphanage.
“I need a ride!” she shouted up at the driver.
Keeping his gaze straight ahead, he replied dismissively, “I don’t give rides to ladies.”
“But you must!”
He met her gaze and frowned. “Are you aware that you have dried blood in your hair and on your face?”
Ignoring his question, she said, “I will pay you a pound if you take me to the Blue Boar right now.”
He eyed her curiously. “You don’t want to go to the Blue Boar, Miss. It is deep within the rookeries, and it ain’t safe for a young miss like you.”
“You won’t take me?”
He shook his head. “Not even if you paid me two pounds.”
“Five pounds.”
“Pardon?” the driver asked in disbelief.
Stepping closer to the hackney, she said, “I will pay you five pounds if you take me to the Blue Boar.”
“Do you have that kind of money on you?”
Madalene shook her head. “I do not,” she admitted. “I only have two pounds in my reticule.” She pointed at the building behind her. “But this is my orphanage, and I live on Grosvenor Street. If you come by tomorrow, I will gladly give you the rest of the money.”
She could see the uncertainty crossing the man’s face, and she knew she needed to continue to plead her case. “I assure you that it is a matter of life and death,” she asserted.
The man gestured towards the door. “Get in before I change my mind,” he barked.
Madalene rushed to open the door to the coach and was met with a pungent odor that managed to assault all of her senses. How she wished she had a handkerchief with rosewater on it at this precise moment.
“Is there a problem, Miss?” the driver asked impatiently.
“Not at all,” she replied as she stepped inside, attempting to ignore how the bottom of her boots were sticking to the floor.
After she closed the door, she sat down on the bench that was worn so thin that it offered little cushion. She truly hoped that she arrived at the Blue Boar before Marie did. If not, she didn’t even want to think about the possibilities.
Sitting on the straw mattress in his rented room, Baldwin yawned as the back of his head rested against the wall.
“You look terrible,” Oliver muttered.
“I feel terrible,” Baldwin replied. “We spent all night searching for Miss Dowding but found no trace of her.”
Oliver took a bite of his bread. “You need to eat something,” he advised.
“I’m not hungry,” Baldwin said, glancing down at the piece of bread in his hand. The thought of food didn’t appeal to him right now, not when Miss Dowding was still missing.
“We will find her,” Oliver assured him.
Baldwin turned his attention towards his brother. “We both know there is a good chance that we will never see her again. People disappear in the rookeries all the time, and no one gives it any heed.”
“But you are Falcon,” Oliver pointed out. “I daresay there is nothing that you can’t do.”
A knock came at the door, and they both reached for their pistols.
“Enter,” Baldwin ordered.
Corbyn stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “I assumed you would both be here,” he said. “I came by to inform you that agents are standing by to raid the Blue Boar after you drive the wagon away.”
“Thank you.” Baldwin rose and tucked his pistol into the waistband of his trousers, covering it with his waistcoat.
Corbyn gave him a concerned look. “I take it that you didn’t find Miss Dowding?”
“No,” he replied, “and we searched all night.”
“The other agents have all reported back that no one saw a woman fitting her description anywhere near the rookeries,” Corbyn shared.
Baldwin sighed. “I assumed as much.” He held up the bread towards Corbyn. “Hungry?”
Corbyn accepted the bread. “I can always eat.”
“I suppose it is time that I head over to the Blue Boar and meet with Morton and Marie,” Baldwin said as he removed his jacket and tossed it onto the ground. “I can’t show up looking too presentable.”
Corbyn watched him with a frown on his lips. “I daresay that won’t be an issue. You look terrible.”
Oliver spoke up. “I said the same thing.”
“Don’t worry,” Baldwin responded. “I am a trained agent. I know my role in all of this.”
“About that,” Corbyn said, “I have decided not to accept your resignation yet.”
Baldwin let out a disbelieving huff. “Why does it matter?” he asked. “I am set to retire after this mission anyway.”
“That may be true, but I don’t want to do any more paperwork than I have to,” Corbyn remarked. “Frankly, I don’t want to have to explain to anyone why I had a dismissed agent working on a case, especially if it turns into a disaster.”
“It won’t.”
“Let’s hope not,” Corbyn asserted.
As Baldwin moved to open the door, he asked, “Will you both be with the agents that raid the Blue Boar?”
“Oliver will be, but I have someplace I need to be,” Corbyn said.
“Which is?”
Corbyn’s eyes grew dark. “It is best if you don’t know.”
“Understood.” Baldwin knew better than to ask his friend more questions when his responses were cryptic.
Baldwin opened the door and departed from the room. He needed to focus on the mission, but his thoughts kept returning to Miss Dowding. What would he do if he never saw her again? He couldn’t imagine a future that didn’t involve her.
His steps faltered on the street at that realization. He wanted a future with Miss Dowding. He needed her in his life. But would she even welcome his advances? He knew she wasn’t completely immune to his charms, but that was a far cry from her agreeing to a courtship. Regardless, he needed to find her first, and he wouldn’t stop searching until he did.
The Blue Boar loomed up ahead, and Baldwin knew he needed to put Miss Dowding out of his mind for the time being. He had a mission he needed to accomplish.
Baldwin stepped inside and headed towards the back room. He knocked on the door and it was opened by a man he was unfamiliar with. The room was crowded with men as they sat around the tables and some were even resting their shoulders against the walls.
“Baldwin!” Morton shouted from the front of the room. “The man that we have all been waiting for.”
A few of the men turned towards him and lifted their tankards towards him. “Baldwin!” they repeated.
Baldwin approached Morton. “What are all these people doing here?” he asked.
“They are here to witness history,” Morton replied. “After the machine infernale is detonated, these men are going to flood the streets and rally the people to revolt!”
“To the revolution!” a man shouted at the table, lifting his tankard
in the air.
“To the revolution!” everyone said in unison.
Baldwin glanced around the room. “Where is Marie?”
“She will be here shortly,” Morton replied, eyeing him with interest. “Are you nervous?”
With a shake of his head, Baldwin said, “There is nothing to be nervous about. I light the slow match and run as fast as I can out of Fieldstone Square.”
“You are a good man,” Morton remarked. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
The door opened, and Marie stepped into the room. She was dressed in a simple blue gown and her hair was pulled tight into a chignon.
“Baldwin!” she shouted. “Are you ready to start a revolution?”
“I am,” he replied as he approached her.
Marie nodded approvingly. “Let me show you the machine infernale, then.”
He followed her out of the pub and saw a wagon parked in front. In the back was a large wine cask that was held together by rope. A twine fuse was positioned in the back of the cask.
Marie stepped closer to the wagon and pointed at the fuse. “You light the slow match and you quickly leave Fieldstone Square without attracting too much attention.”
“That fuse isn’t very long,” Baldwin commented.
“It doesn’t need to be,” Marie remarked. “It is slow burning and will only present a small glowing tip after you light it.”
Baldwin lowered his voice and asked, “What do you estimate the blast radius to be?”
Marie met his gaze. “I would just run, and don’t stop running until you are as far away from the blast as you can be.”
“I understand.”
Placing a hand on the wine cask, Marie ordered, “Get the wagon as close as you can to the stage and let the machine infernale do the rest.”
Baldwin’s eyes scanned the bomb. “I will do my best.”
“If you don’t succeed, I will kill you,” Marie said in a stern voice.
His eyes snapped back to hers. “I understand my job.”
A smile came to Marie’s lips. “Good, but I am coming with you to ensure that we have no mishaps along the way.”
Fearing he’d misheard her, he asked, “Pardon?”
Marie lifted her brow. “Is that a problem?”
