Mistress of Fortune

by Holly West

  The bell above the door rang, signaling the arrival of another customer. It was my friend, Lady Sunderland. I stood to greet her.

  “Lady Wilde, how nice we should meet,” she said. We kissed cheeks.

  I smiled broadly. “Lady Sunderland, I’m indeed glad to see you,” I said. We both sat down. “I was taken ill at Mrs. Gwyn’s party and left before I could speak to you.”

  “We’ve been in London a fortnight, and I must apologize for not sending you word earlier. There’s not been a moment to rest since we got back. This is the first chance I’ve had to visit Madame Laverne, and I fear all my dresses are shamefully out of fashion.”

  “From the look of things, Madame Laverne will appreciate the business. I’ve never seen her shop this empty before.”

  Lady Sunderland took note of her surroundings. “Nor have I. Don’t tell me English dressmakers are back in fashion.”

  “Lord, let’s hope not,” I said. “Madame Laverne is Catholic, is she not? I think this downturn in business has to do with the recent death of Sir Edmund Godfrey and the rumors about the Catholics killing him. Certainly you’ve heard about it.”

  “My dear, I’ve heard of nothing else since we returned to London,” she said. “Lord Sunderland is on the committee to investigate the murder.”

  Charles had told me about the committee, and I hoped that Lord Sunderland’s inclusion might mean the investigation was being handled with some amount of common sense. “Does Lord Sunderland have an idea about who killed Sir Edmund?” I asked.

  “There are no suspects at the moment, but the committee is determined to blame it on the papists. The opposition to the Duke of York’s succession is more powerful than ever. Buckingham is pushing hard for a law that will exclude Catholics from the throne.”

  I withheld a sigh. “Even if the Catholics murdered Sir Edmund, the king will have his way,” I said. “York will be the next king of England.”

  “My dear, the king is powerful, but even he cannot stop the will of the people. And the people do not want a papist on the throne.”

  Lady Sunderland’s condescending tone annoyed me, though I could not say exactly why. It wasn’t as though I thought York would make a suitable king, but he was the rightful heir. Instead of arguing, however, I returned my attention to Charlotte. Madame Laverne told her she could put her other dress back on. Charlotte went behind the screen, followed by Marie, while Madame Laverne took out her ledger. She added up some figures then addressed me.

  “The dress will be ready in three days,” she said. “The cost of the alteration is one pound.”

  “Thank you, Madame Laverne. Alice will pick it up on Thursday.”

  Madame Laverne lowered her normally boisterous voice. “Excusez moi, Lady Wilde, but I hope it is not too much trouble if I ask you to pay the cost in advance.”

  “Is there a problem with my credit?” I asked, confused.

  “No, no—it is just—”

  If Madame Laverne was asking for payment in advance, then her business was almost certainly in trouble. I had no doubt that the blame could be laid at the feet of the Duke of Buckingham and his efforts to vilify the Catholics. I only hoped that Madame Laverne could survive the onslaught.

  “Of course,” I said quickly so she wouldn’t have to explain. “But I confess I am not carrying such a large sum with me. I will have to send Alice with it later.”

  “Merci, Lady Wilde.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Though Sam and I hadn’t been to Coal Yard Alley in six days, we arrived to find it undisturbed. As he set about preparing the fire, I went to my desk and opened the empty drawer where my diary should’ve been, noting it hadn’t magically reappeared. I sighed and closed the drawer and, when Sam finished, we played All Fours, waiting for someone to come.

  After an hour, I said, “It’s likely our long absence will mean we’ve lost some of our regular visitors.”

  “Let’s give it a little more time,” Sam replied, dealing another hand.

  A brisk knock fifteen minutes later startled both of us. It was Lady Widmark, who I hadn’t seen since I had my dress fitting at Madame Laverne’s, when I’d learned that Sir Edmund was missing. Here she was, fat as ever, and she wanted to know how she might become smaller in time for her daughter’s upcoming wedding. I read her palm and, when it turned up nothing very interesting, I said, “You like rose cakes, don’t you?”

  “They’re my favorite.”

  “And syllabubs with cream and sugar?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “They are delicious, are they not? Well, I’m afraid you must give them all up.”

  She looked horrified at the prospect. “I couldn’t do that, Mistress Ruby! However will I survive?”

  “Nevertheless, if you want to become smaller you must eat less.”

  “Isn’t there some other way?”

  I gave her a vial of brindleberry extract and told her to mix three drops in water and drink it three times a day. Satisfied, she paid me ten pounds and went on her way.

  An hour passed before we received our second visitor of the night. Sam took his place by the door and peeked out. “Jenny,” he said to me.

  “Don’t you think it’s odd that she seems to come every time we’re here? It’s not as though we’ve kept regular hours of late,” I said.

  By way of reply, he poised one hand on the hilt of his dagger and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. After a few moments he returned and said, “She says she’s been waiting for you every night for the past week. She’s had more trouble from her husband.”

  “Let her in,” I said.

  Sam opened the door to her and, as she entered, I noticed a newly acquired limp.

  “I’ll be downstairs,” Sam said.

  Jenny sat down wearily, without waiting to be invited to do so. “Thank you for seeing me,” she said.

  “What happened since I last saw you?” I asked.

  “My husband will eventually kill me. I know that now.”

  “He hit you again?”

  “Yes, just this morning. He’s angrier than ever.” She worried the edges of her cloak with nervous hands. “I think he suspects I’ve taken a lover.”

  There was nothing more potent than jealousy to provoke anger in a man. I had withstood more than one beating because of Sir Ian’s envy of the king. Despite the reason for our marriage I had been a faithful wife, refusing to see Charles during that time, but nothing I said would convince him of it.

  “Have you found someone so quickly to aid in your quest for a child?” I said.

  “To tell you truly,” she said quietly, “the search was not difficult.”

  “How did your husband find out?”

  “He must have followed me. But he’s not said anything to me about it. He did this last night because he didn’t like what I prepared for supper.” She pointed at her swollen mouth.

  “Has he always been so abusive?”

  “He has always had a bad temper but it’s been worse of late,” she said. She looked off to the side, beyond me, as though speaking to herself. “He was very sweet when we first married. But his patience has waned since there has been no child.”

  Indeed, this was a terrible situation. Her husband seemed intent on hurting her, or worse, murdering her. Regardless of her past transgressions or her inability to conceive, which was probably his fault in the first place, she did not deserve to be treated thusly. No woman did. But for me to make my final recommendation, I had to be sure she was ready to save herself, no matter the cost. I sat on my chair, leaned forward, and took both her hands in mine.

  “Jenny, I need to ask you some questions and you must be absolutely truthful with me,” I said. “I cannot help you otherwise.”

  She nodded.

  “The last time I saw you I asked if you loved your husband and you did not answer me. Now you must tell me. Do you love him?”

  She shook her head.

  “Say yes or no.”

  “No
. I’ve never loved him.”

  “Is there any way you can escape him?”

  “No.”

  “Think about it,” I said, coaxing. “What about your lover, can he help you?”

  She shook her head. “I have gone over this in my mind a thousand times, Mistress Ruby. I have no choice but to stay with my husband. I have no money, no skills—I can’t even cook a proper meal. What would you have me do, become a prostitute?”

  Wouldn’t it be preferable to dying this slow death? For some it would, but Jenny obviously felt otherwise.

  “Do you think matters will improve if you have a baby?” I asked.

  “Lord, I hope so! I cannot live this way much longer. I almost think it would be better if he did kill me!”

  I let go of her hands and sat back in my chair. “I know a woman who can help you,” I said. “But if you decide to seek her services, you must tell no one. You must act in absolute secrecy.”

  “I will do anything you say. I am desperate.”

  I gave her the information she needed.

  * * *

  The next morning, I went to see Mary Bixby. As Elijah navigated the carriage through the muddy streets on the way to Mary’s shop, my thoughts drifted back to my lost daughter. I didn’t notice Elijah had stopped the carriage in front of Mary’s shop until Sam opened the door. I sat still for a moment, trying to clear my head. I dabbed at my eyes with my handkerchief and blew my nose, willing myself to put my painful memories aside.

  “You’re upset,” Sam said. “What is it?”

  “It’s nothing to concern yourself with.” I allowed him to help me out of the carriage, and when we entered the shop, Mary seemed happy to see the both of us, as usual. But she scrutinized my face carefully, and I knew my effort to conceal my troubles had failed once again. She said nothing of it, however.

  “There’s a woman in need of your special service,” I said. “I gave her your information last night.”

  “You’re certain she can be trusted?”

  I spoke without hesitation. “Yes. Her husband beats her often because after three years of marriage there have been no children. She’s afraid for her life and, after seeing her wounds, I agree she’s in grave danger.”

  Mary turned to Sam. “And you agree?”

  “I’ve not spoken to the woman,” Sam said, “but as always, I trust Isabel’s opinion.”

  “And you’ve already offered less drastic suggestions?”

  I nodded. “She’s even taken a lover more virile than her husband to increase her chances. But I’ve seen her three times in the last few weeks, and with each visit her bruises and cuts get worse. Nearly as bad as Ian hurt me.”

  “It seems there is no other solution then.”

  “None that I can see,” I said.

  “What’s her name?”

  “She calls herself Jenny.”

  “Did you explain to her the exact nature of my remedy?”

  “I told her she must reflect carefully about her situation before visiting you. If she decides to come and you agree she can be trusted, you will have to direct her from there.”

  Mary’s expertise in plants and herbs went far beyond medicine. She’d developed a concoction derived from a combination of dangerous plants, capable of permanently felling even the strongest man. Its strength lay not only in its effectiveness, but also in its lack of flavor and smell. It was virtually undetectable.

  She chose her clients carefully and through referral only. The bulk of her business was drawing charts and dispensing medicinal herbs, as I did. But occasionally, a woman came along who needed something more. I believed that Jenny needed her help.

  “I will look for her then.” She leaned forward, holding her cup in both hands. “And now may I ask what has become of the matter we discussed the last time you were here?”

  “Sir Edmund Godfrey?” I asked.

  Mary nodded.

  “You probably know they have not yet found the culprit. And I’ve not located my diary.”

  “But you’ve followed my advice and stayed out of it?”

  Sam guffawed, but I ignored him.

  “You know that’s impossible,” I said. “I must find my diary. But any inquiries I’ve made have been discreet, I assure you.”

  Mary drank the last of her gin and reached for the bottle to pour more. “For both of your sakes, I hope that’s true.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Tuesday, 22 October 1678

  Our first visitor at Coal Yard Alley that night was an impotent old earl who wanted to know how best to keep his young wife faithful. He raised a fuzzy gray eyebrow when I told him my fee was ten pounds but paid it without protest just the same. A brief interview and palm reading showed he was in good health, so I provided him with a pouch of cardamom, ginseng and ginger and advised him to drink it in a sack posset made of eggs and cream three times a day and to return in one month if he did not see improvement.

  When he rose to leave, I gave him an additional bit of counsel. “Above all, you must be kind to her, m’lord. Treat her with tenderness, and she’ll not be tempted to find comfort in another man’s arms.”

  He left and I busied myself by organizing the herbs in my cabinet, wondering if the earl would follow my advice. Suddenly Sam flung the door open, acting as panicked as if the building was afire.

  “Two constables are outside looking for you,” he said breathlessly. “Quick, you must hide.”

  I tried to keep calm while I considered my options. Given my scant furnishings, there was no place to conceal myself, except, perhaps, for under the desk. I didn’t think it would stand up to even a cursory search.

  “Is there any hope for escape?” I asked.

  “It’s doubtful. They appeared confused about the exact location of your room and of course I misled them. But it won’t be long before they’re up here, I’ll wager.”

  I snatched off my wig and skullcap, stuffing them both into my desk drawer. I spit into the same cloth I’d used to clean Jenny’s wounds a few nights before and scrubbed my skin, trying to remove as much paint as possible.

  “What are you doing? You must hurry!”

  “Follow my lead.”

  I pulled my hood up over my natural hair and opened the door. I listened for footsteps on the stairs, and hearing none, I ran down them with Sam at my heel.

  “When we get to the bottom,” I said, “I want you to run in the opposite direction I do.”

  “I’ll do no such thing!”

  “It’s the only way, Sam. Please. I’ll meet you on Bow Street as quickly as I can.”

  At first I didn’t see the constables when I stumbled onto Drury Lane. Had I found a bit of luck at last? Sam and I both went south but we’d gone only a few steps when two liveried men turned the corner toward us.

  “Go,” I whispered. Sam stubbornly maintained his place at my side and I elbowed him. “You must trust me, Sam. Do as I say.”

  He hesitated a moment longer before hurrying off in the opposite direction. The constables didn’t appear to notice either of us, so caught up were they in trying to determine where Mistress Ruby’s room was.

  I walked toward them, keeping my head down in the hope they would allow me to pass without comment. Alas, when I was almost upon them, one of them put his hand out to stop me.

  “Halt, madam,” one of them said. “We’re here at the behest of the Lord Treasurer, Lord Danby. We ask that you identify yourself.”

  “Please sirs, I’ve caused no trouble.”

  They formed a barrier with their bodies, legs spread and arms crossed in front of them. “Your name, madam.”

  “Very well then, I am Lady Wilde,” I said, praying they wouldn’t look too closely at my face and see the remnants of paint that were no doubt smeared across it. “Now please let me be on my way.”

  “What reason have you for being in this dire place, Lady Wilde?”

  “I don’t see that it’s any of your affair.”

  “We’re lo
oking for a fortuneteller named Mistress Ruby. You wouldn’t happen to know where she does business, do you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Lady Wilde, His Lordship has instructed us to take anyone who does not cooperate into custody. We must insist that you explain yourself.”

  I placed my hands on my hips and pushed out a haughty sigh. “If you insist, gentlemen. As it happens I’ve come to consult Mistress Ruby about a personal matter. But you’re wasting your time as I’ve wasted mine—she’s not in her room.”

  One of the men chuckled, no doubt amused to have caught one of the king’s mistresses in a compromising circumstance. “And which room would that be, Lady Wilde?”

  “That building on the corner,” I said, nodding in the direction of my room. There was no point in lying—if they didn’t locate it tonight, they would only be back tomorrow. “Third floor.”

  The taller of the two men said, “You stay here with her. I’ll go upstairs and check it out.”

  Nausea born of fear stirred in my stomach. I calmed myself by considering the facts. The room’s door was locked and besides, there was no longer anything incriminating inside of it. As long as they did not examine me too closely and notice the remnants of strange paint on my face, I figured my secret was safe for now.

  I could not begin to think about the future and how I might continue to conduct my business here or anywhere else under such scrutiny.

  Upon finding Mistress Ruby’s room empty, the constables asked a few more innocuous questions and let me leave. I was sure they’d be back. Only one conclusion could be drawn from their appearance at Coal Yard Alley: Danby had figured out that it was Mistress Ruby Sir Edmund had visited. My worst fear had come to pass—it was no longer safe for me to continue my business without risking the revelation of my true identity, or worse, arrest.

  I arrived home to find that Captain Bedloe sent a messenger to inquire whether I would meet him at the Cock and Fox the next night. It had been three days since our supper and I’d been eager to see him again. But now I could think of nothing but Danby’s men invading Coal Yard Alley.