by Hilly Mason
“I am never drinking again,” she announced to herself as she splashed water on her face, using a towel to wipe the makeup and sleep away.
“Would you care for some breakfast, milady—I mean, Sophia?” Levinia asked, standing hesitantly by the doorway with a tray of toast, tea and fruits.
“Yes, do come in.”
As the maid busied herself by setting up her meal, fluffing the blankets, and hanging up Sophia’s discarded clothing, she observed Sophia out of the corner of her eye, as though she might do something strange, like dance on her hands or spin her head around like a doll.
“I suppose it’s not every day that you wait upon a former prisoner,” Sophia said amusedly.
“Pardon me, milady?” Levinia squeaked as she picked up Sophia’s slippers and placed them neatly by the wardrobe.
Ah yes, Sophia hit her mark. “Never mind,” she told the girl as she looked at her appearance again in the glass and started to undo the pins in her hair. “I did like the way you styled my hair yesterday,”
The maid blushed with pleasure. “Thank you, mil—Sophia. I do try to keep up with the current fashions in the city.”
“Indeed.” Sophia picked up her comb and frowned at the tangles that resulted from yesterday’s poor choices. “Do you think you would be able to teach me how to do it?”
“How to do your hair, milady?”
“That’s what I said.”
“I... I would love to, milady. It’s just something most ladies wouldn’t care to learn, so I am a bit surprised...”
“I’m not like most ladies,” Sophia said mildly. “Anyway, whenever I try putting my hair up in pins, it always springs out. I’m afraid I get too frustrated to try it again, but perhaps there is some sort of trick I do not know about.”
“Well, the key is to wet your hair down a bit before you work with it. You are one of the lucky few who already have wavy hair so there is no need for the hot iron or curling papers.”
Sophia watched with discernment as Levinia did up her hair like the day before, with two perfect ringlets framing her face.
“All right, I think I understand it. Let me try now.”
It took her several tries for her to be satisfied with the end result, but she finally got it down, praying that it would last the entire day. She turned her head side to side, feeling for any looseness in the pins, but felt none.
“Your gown does not have many wrinkles in it, if you wanted to wear it again today.”
“That’s fine, Levinia.”
Before Sophia left her room, she made sure that the vial of poison was securely placed in her gown pocket. How damning it would be if she were to be found with this little bottle!
She was to meet up with the banker later that morning to discuss her finances, and perhaps receive a loan to get her started on the boarding school early. The sooner the better, although she would most likely need to stay at Ramsbury a little while longer to accrue enough money.
Alex was shut in his study, working. As she walked by his study, memories of the night before came unbidden to her mind. She was embarrassed with herself with the way she acted. Why should she care if Alex consorted with a whore? It was none of her business. What was her business was to continue to give little Annie lessons and earn enough money to start her own boarding school. Nothing else mattered.
There was a light drizzle when she stepped outside. Sophia put on her bonnet and tied the ribbon around her chin snugly as she began her walk down the streets. The bank was only three blocks away, so thankfully she did not have far to travel. However, it took her longer than normal to walk, as her ankle still bothered her. Even though it was still morning, the streets were already busy. Sophia’s chest tightened and she tried to make her way through the throngs of people and horses.
Had London always been like this? she thought. Was it always so hectic? A man slammed his shoulder against hers, causing her to stumble backward. She managed to find her balance before falling into a rain puddle, and then breathed a sigh of relief. She’d rather not meet the banker looking like she had just emerged from the Thames.
Sophia was thankful to see the sign for the bank as she rounded a corner. A tiny bell rang as she opened the door. The only person in the small room was an old man, who was almost hidden behind piles of precariously placed papers. He leaned to the side as he heard her come in and owlishly blinked at her behind thick spectacles.
“Lady Sophia Gibbs?” he asked her. Sophia nodded. “Please, take a seat.” Realizing that the only other seat was covered in paperwork, he leapt up and cleared the spot for her.
“Thank you for taking me in on such a short notice,” Sophia told the man as she sat down in the chair across from him. “Mr. Hampton, is it?”
“Yes, that’s right,” the banker begin, straightening his papers and picking up a quill. He dipped the quill in his inkwell. “Is it just you that I am meeting with this morning?”
“Well, of course it is,” Sophia replied, confused. “Who else did you expect?”
Mr. Hampton shrugged. “I don’t usually see a young woman doing business here without her husband or a male family member. You want to open an account with me, correct?”
“Yes, although my late husband had already set up an account here, if that means anything. And while I am here, I want to discuss a business proposition.”
She noticed how his eyebrows rose on his wrinkled forehead and swallowed her annoyance. The man shuffled through his papers and read them. His lips moved silently along with the words.
“Ah, I see. You are Lord Gibbs’ widow.”
“Yes,” Sophia replied tartly and sat up straighter. Was she going to be seen as his widow for the rest of her life?
The banker gave her an expectant look, then shrugged, perhaps deciding that she wasn’t going to suddenly attack him, or slip the contents of the poison she carried into the glass of wine he had next to his papers.
“Very well,” he said. “Since your husband used to do business here, we can open an account under your name. However, it looks like your husband has no balance.”
“I am very much aware of that.”
“And it is a loan you would like?”
“Yes.”
“And what is the purpose of your loan, Lady Gibbs?”
Sophia took a deep breath. “I want to open a boarding school. I want to teach young girls how to grow into strong, independent women.”
The man erupted with laughter. Sophia looked on awkwardly, waiting for him to finish. He wiped a tear of mirth from his eye and coughed, trying to compose himself.
“Oh, you’re quite serious, aren’t you?”
“I am, yes.”
“My dear, a boarding school is not going to be a lucrative business. No father is going to send their daughter to a school where they try to teach them to be independent—isn’t that what you said?”
“Well, perhaps I can try to change that,” Sophia said, jutting her chin out defiantly. How dare this man? “At any rate, how much would it cost to rent a building for such purposes?”
“What part of London are we thinking about?”
“Anywhere around Mayfair would be most desirable.”
Again, he laughed, a pealing, grating sound that would seem much more natural coming from a boy than a grown man. Sophia waited patiently for it to subside.
“I am not an expert at real estate, but my clients, who actually have attainable goals, pay a handsome sum for their monthly rent. Shouldn’t you already know this, with your late husband and all?”
Sophia’s faced flushed. “My late husband never went over the figures with me,” she admitted.
The banker sighed. He then scribbled some numbers down on a sheet of paper and handed it to her.
She stared at the numbers in shock. Even with Alex’s generous salary, there would be no way she could afford the monthly payments of a house in the area. Mr. Hampton would most likely seek her out for her debts—like her Lord Gibbs’ murderer—and kill h
er! Sophia’s head dropped and she suddenly felt foolish for thinking she could take on such a venture.
“A bit of a surprise, isn’t it?” Mr. Hampton said, surprisingly not unkindly. “A house the size you’re thinking of may be half the price in poorer areas, but still...”
“It’s expensive.” Sophia nodded numbly. “So, would there be any option for a loan to get me started?”
He shook his head slowly. “I’m afraid not. It’s too much of a risk for the bank, you see, since you are not financially stable as it is, and opening a boarding school... It’s usually something left for the abbeys, who rely on donations to keep them afloat.”
“I... I understand.” She clutched her reticule tightly in her hand as she stood up. “Thank you for your time.”
Knowing that his curious eyes still lingered on her, she tried not to falter as she opened the door to leave.
Once outside, Sophia took a deep breath of air and let it go slowly. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. What was she to do now? She had no choice but to stay at Ramsbury, or find a job elsewhere. She cursed herself for thinking her dream would be so easy to execute. If she still had Comerford House... If she didn’t have to sell it, then she wouldn’t have to deal with any of this.
Damn you, Gregory, Sophia thought. And damn you, Alex. Any other man could have bought Comerford, but it had to be him. It had to be bloody him!
She pressed her hand against the vial of poison in her pocket as she walked down the street toward Miss Baxter’s apothecary. She had enough coin to call a coach, but she’d rather not have anyone know she was going to a witch’s shop. The rain started to come down hard. Her foot slipped on the wet cobblestone steps and she fell into fresh slop, just thrown out from the window of the house above her. Her injured ankle made her wince in pain.
“Damn this city,” she hissed, drawing the looks of people passing by. A homeless woman, missing most of her teeth, cackled at her as Sophia pulled her leg out of the slop. As she walked miserably onward, she silently cursed the banker, Alex, the whore, everyone she could think of, and hoped the rain would wash most of the grime from her shoes and dress before making it to the apothecary.
Most heartily of all, she cursed herself.
She wasn’t sure if it were tears or rain that streamed down her cheeks, and she stopped bothering to wipe the wetness away. Her body was shivering, and her teeth chattering as she finally spotted Miss Baxter’s shop sign.
I do have options, she thought as she pushed the door open.
“Well, look who it is?” Miss Baxter declared from her work bench, looking similar to Mr. Hampton as she glanced up from her spectacles.
“It is good to see you well,” Sophia said politely as she stepped into the main floor of the shop.
“Oh, well that’s bein’ generous,” the old woman muttered. One other customer was in shop—a servant, by the looks of it—waiting by the counter. He looked nervous when he noticed Sophia walk in.
“How much longer will it be?” he asked Miss Baxter impatiently.
“Hold yer britches.” The old woman dropped a small linen bag on the counter in front of the man. “There ye go: a month’s worth of barrenwort an’ saffron. Take the tea two times a day for at least a week and ye’ll start to see a decrease in impotency.”
“Do you have to say it so loud, ma’am?” the young man hissed, glancing over his shoulder at Sophia in alarm.
Sophia hid a smile as the servant paid for the herbs and hurried out.
“It’s for my master,” he told her under his breath before he left.
“Of course.”
Now that they were alone, Miss Baxter heaved herself onto a little stool and rubbed the small of her back, grimacing. Sophia sat down in a chair beside her.
“Look at ye; ye’re limpin’ like ye’re a hundred years old like me.”
“I injured myself a little while ago,” Sophia explained. “Is this a bad time?”
“Nay, it’s not. The rain just makes my back creak like an old house. What is it that ye need?”
Sophia fished her hand into her pocket and pulled out the glass vial. “I found this in the servants’ kitchen, where I now live,” she told the woman. “I believe someone is trying to poison me—just as they had poisoned my husband.”
Miss Baxter took the vial from Sophia’s hands and peered at it carefully. “Well, it’s not of my stock. That I ken.”
“I was hoping so,” Sophia said, more to herself.
Miss Baxter opened the stopper and stuck her little finger down the small neck. She brought her finger back out and tasted it with the tip of her tongue and grimaced.
“This ain’t poison, lass.”
“It’s not?”
Miss Baxter shook her head. “I can see how it could smell like poison to a layperson, but I believe it only to be the extract of almond, an’ perhaps a mixture of other herbs. Buckthorn, perhaps? It’ll make a person’s stomach turn a different direction for a time, but that’d be the worst of it.”
“Why would someone try to use nonlethal poison on me?”
“Well, I have a feeling that whoever was trying to poison ye didn’t know that it was a fake. Some less-than-honest herbalists sell this type of thing for a considerable sum of money.”
Sophia stared at the vial. “But if this was the same person who went after my husband, why did he die?”
“Could have been actual poison, could have been somethin’ else.” The old lady shrugged. “Unfortunately, I cannot see into these things.”
“Wait!” Sophia exclaimed. “My husband… I remember him telling me once that he would get a terrible reaction to nuts if he ate them—they would make his throat swell up and it would be difficult for him to breathe. I wonder if that is what happened to him?” Excited by this revelation, she grabbed Miss Baxter’s hand. “Do you recognize the bottle, or where it could have come from?”
Miss Baxter shook her head. “I’d imagine it came from someone who doesn’t know what they’re doin’, an’ who are playin’ around with things they shouldn’t. Ye look like ye are going to freeze to death; would ye like some tea?”
“Oh, uh...” Sophia hadn’t realized until now that her teeth were still chattering. “Yes, please.”
The woman gave Sophia a cup of strong herbal tea tasting of chamomile and lavender.
“You were right about a child coming into my life,” she said to the old woman, once her insides warmed a bit and she had stopped shivering.
“Aye, I ken.”
“Can you... can you look into my future again now?”
“Ye would like that, lass? Ye didn’t seem to be too fond of me doin’ it before.”
“No,” Sophia sighed. “You’re right. Never mind.”
“Is that why ye’ve come to see me?”
“No, it’s not. I... I want to work for you again, Miss Baxter.”
The old lady raised her gray brows. “Oh, aye? Is workin’ at a baron’s house not good enough for ye?”
“It’s not that. It’s...”
“What are ye runnin’ away from, lass?”
“I’m not running away from anything!”
“Ah, that’s it. Ye are not runnin’ away from anythin’ because ye are tryin’ to run away from yerself, which is impossible.”
“Pardon me? What are you going on about?”
Miss Baxter jabbed a sharp finger into Sophia’s chest, where her heart beat wildly. “Ye are afraid of what’s goin’ on in here,” she told her, nodding her head. “Ye’re afraid of what ye might find inside if ye just stop to look.”
“I do not think that is...”
“Oh? Then why are ye wantin’ to stay in this drafty, dirty place, hmm?”
“I have no other options.”
“Nay, ye have plenty of them,” the old woman assured her. “An’ I am not allowin’ ye to stay here when ye can do better.”
Well, Sophia now had another name to add to her list of people that needed to be damned.
&n
bsp; “Why don’t ye choose happiness when it’s right there in front of ye? Why try to run from it?”
“You know nothing about me.”
“I know enough to recognize how foolish ye’re bein’.”
Sophia quickly stood up. “I’m leaving now. Thank you for the information, and for the tea.” She took the vial from the counter and turned her heel and left without another word.
Her trip to the apothecary left Sophia with more questions than not. Was this the same nonlethal poison that Lord Gibbs had consumed? Had he died after suffering a terrible reaction to it? The investigators had found an empty vial of what assumed to be poison in the nearby bushes by Comerford, but Sophia never did get a good look at it. Perhaps it was all just a coincidence. Perhaps this vial she found had nothing to do with her, and was only a prank amongst Ramsbury’s servants.
With those thoughts, she left the apothecary feeling slightly less worried, although still perturbed that Miss Baxter refused her service. The clock tower rang noon, and reminded Sophia that Alex was to start his duel in a half an hour. Alex had mentioned during the ride to London that the duel was to be held in Green Park, in an area not frequented by walkers so as to refrain curious onlookers from notifying the authorities. Sophia had no plans to watch him, however, curiosity once again got the better of her and she flagged down a coach to take her to the park.
After paying the driver, she looked around, wondering if this had been a good idea at all, for the park seemed relatively deserted. The pathway was muddy and the cold of the day was already starting to seep back into her bones. She started to turn around to walk back to Widley House when she heard some shouting about a hundred yards away within a copse of thickly grown trees.
She had found the duel at the clearing just past the trees. Sophia stood at a distance as a group of a dozen men made a circle around Alex and another unknown man who could be none other than the offender.
The man was swaying side to side, as though drunk, and his face was pale as snow. A pistol hung in his shaking hands. Alex, in contrast, stood calm. The gun that Sophia had seen him polish with such reverence back in Ramsbury was held solidly in his hand, the silver glinting in the dismal sunlight that struggled to peek through the rain clouds.
