by Wendy Vella
“Heartwarming though it is to hear your fatherly concerns, Jacobs, let me assure you that the rules have indeed changed,” the man said, turning to face Jacobs. “I’m afraid you are now expendable.”
“What?” Jacobs’s eyes bulged. “But I cut you in.”
“You got drunk and talked, I listened.” The man shrugged.
Hannah watched in horror as he drew back the knife and plunged it into the heart of Lionel Jacobs.
“No!” Hannah started forward as Lionel Jacobs cried out, trying to reach him as he fell to the floor.
“Do not move or I will leave here and hunt down someone you love and show you my intent, Miss Wooller.” The man’s words stopped her. “I stabbed him through the heart; his death will be swift, with little pain, I assure you, and he is now unconscious and will be dead in a matter of minutes.”
“Y-you murdered him.” Hannah could not draw her eyes from Jacobs. She could see the blood flowing from his body, pooling around him as his limbs twitched. She started forward again, but the man held out a hand.
“You can do nothing for him, Miss Wooller, so I suggest you pay attention to what I am saying.”
Dragging her eyes from the blood, she looked at the man. He was calm, his eyes the same as they had been when she walked in, as if he had not just brutally murdered a man.
“We have established you have plenty of people you care for, Miss Wooller, and that we can and will harm them should we need to. Let us discuss my intentions for you.”
“We?” Hannah whispered. Was there another?
“Merely a slip of the tongue, Miss Wooller; I assure you it is only I you now have to deal with.”
He was lying. Hannah had seen the small flash of surprise in his eyes when she’d said “we.” Was this man collaborating with another, or was he doing as he was bid by his employer? Both thoughts only added to her terror.
“Wh-what do you want?” She looked back to Lionel Jacobs. His body was still now, lying there in a sea of red. This morning he had eaten his meal with the expectation that he would do so tomorrow and the day after that, but he would not, could not, as he was now dead. Life was so precious, and Hannah had just been made aware of how fragile it was also.
“A great deal, Miss Wooller, and that will be made clear to you in due course.”
“Please, I beg of you, don’t do this to me. My father will know if large sums of money go missing.” Her words were an anguished plea and Hannah watched a thin smile spread across his lips. He knew he had won, and that she would do whatever she needed to keep him quiet.
“I met Lady Levermarch and her dear little daughter last week,” he said, wiping his blade on the clean white handkerchief he had pulled from his pocket. It was stained red in seconds with Lionel Jacobs’s blood.
Hannah could do nothing to stop her eyes from seeking out the body again. The sightless eyes of her uncle stared back at her.
“Death is nasty, Miss Wooller, and if you do not wish that to befall any of your loved ones, then you will do exactly as I say.”
Hannah managed a jerky nod.
“Excellent. You will leave now and I will contact you soon with what I require from you.”
“Promise me you will not harm any of the people in my life, sir, and I will do as you bid.” She had to try to reason with him.
“I will make you that promise as long as you speak to no one and do exactly as I demand of you; but be assured, I will strike swiftly if you do not.”
She managed a jerky nod.
“Leave now, and remember to keep your silence.”
Hannah’s legs felt heavy as she hurried to the door. Pulling it open, she stepped outside. Running down the lane, she found a space between two buildings and after slipping inside was violently ill. When her stomach was empty and the nausea had subsided, she wiped her sweaty face and hands, before hurrying back onto the street. She didn’t look back to see if the man was near or watching, and did not stop again until she reached the place she had left Mary.
“There you are, Miss Wooller. I could not find your money purse in any of the shops you went into. I fear it has been taken.”
Hannah managed to smile at Mary. “Not to worry.” Her head spun, her hands were sweaty, and she felt extremely unsteady on her feet.
“The carriage is ready now, and we should arrive at Mrs. Fletcher’s in under ten minutes,” Mary added. “I’m sure she will love the gift you have for her.”
She’d forgotten they were to call in at Bella’s. How was she to act normal when her world had just been turned on its head? She had seen a man killed and knew the memory would haunt her forever. The blood, and sightless eyes of Lionel Jacobs. “Yes, I’m sure she will, Mary.”
Hannah drew in two deep steadying breaths. She must do this, had to keep her friends and family safe, and to do that she had to put on the best performance of her life. She must laugh, smile, and fool her dearest friends; she would act as if her most pressing problem was what cake to eat of the selection she was sure Bella would have ready for her guests.
Dear Lord. She wanted to curl into a ball and rock herself. She needed to be alone to find some calm inside the chaos that was her head.
The Fletchers lived at a smart address in Cheapside, frequented by other industrialists, doctors, and businessmen of London. Hannah knew that behind that door would be the Langley sisters and Lady Althea Dillinger, and as they knew her better than most, especially Phoebe, she would have to enact the performance of her life.
Lifting the knocker, she rapped twice.
“Good day to you, Miss Wooller.”
“Good day.” Hannah managed a smile for the butler as she stepped inside. Her fingers were shaking as she removed her bonnet and gloves and handed them over.
“The ladies are in the parlor, if you will follow me.”
She loved this house. It wasn’t as big as hers, Phoebe’s, or Livvy’s, but it was welcoming, warm and filled with love, just like the owners, Luke and Bella Fletcher.
She heard the laughter, Phoebe’s voice rising above the others, and the squeal of her daughter. The door was opened, and in she walked. She smiled and waved to her friends, who returned the gesture, before focusing on the woman waddling toward her, her round stomach protruding past her feet. Isabella Fletcher was a beautiful picture, with her blonde curls captured in a soft bun and her sweet face smiling.
“Hannah, I am so pleased to see you.”
“And you, Bella. You looked wonderful,” Hannah said, handing her the package she had brought along. Bella took it and hugged Hannah gently. It was enough to start the tears. She needed to be by herself for a few minutes; she needed composure, and would not find it there, at that moment, with the people she cared for. “I wonder if I may wash up before seating myself.” Hannah lowered her eyes so no one noticed her tears.
“Of course.” Bella ushered her out the door she had recently entered. “Ellen, please take Miss Wooller up to a room to freshen up.”
Hannah squeezed her friend’s hand. “I shall not be long; pour me a cup of tea.”
She was ushered into a room with a view over the street below, and she could see Bella’s touches everywhere. Soft rose-colored walls, and a gilt-edged mirror above a desk upon which sat a vase filled with colorful blooms. Once the maid had left her, Hannah moved to the chair and once seated she put her head in her hands and cried. Hot, silent tears for both herself and Lionel Jacobs. He had blackmailed her and had been a bad man, but no one deserved to die as he had that day. Even now, his body was probably being discarded like a pile of refuse and who would know but her? Who would mourn him or lay flowers on his grave?
“What am I to do?” Hannah was not a woman who cried a great deal, but she had needed the release. When the tears stopped, she rose and went to the basin, filling it with water from the jug. Taking the cloth, she rinsed it and then placed it over her eyes; she would not be able to disguise the tears completely, but she would invent a story to cover them. Perhaps some food had di
sagreed with her? Yes, Hannah thought that could work.
She pushed the sightless eyes of Lionel Jacobs from her head before inhaling several times. Staring in the mirror at her pale terrified face, she wondered how she could walk downstairs as if nothing had happened, and converse with her friends.
“You have no other option but to deal with this, Hannah Wooller.”
One thing however was very clear: she could not tell her father now; she would not risk the shock to his heart. She must also sever all association with Alex, because that man had already hurt him, and she would not allow him to do so again. She cared too much for that to happen. She could not dismiss everyone from her life immediately, but at least she could keep him safe by doing so. The thought produced a sharp pain in her chest.
“Surely you have not come to love him?” She looked at her reflection again. “No.” Shaking her head, she began to tidy her appearance. There was no room in her life for love anymore.
Bella was waiting for her when she returned, with the soft white blanket in her hands. She’d had one of the seamstresses bind it in yellow satin and embroider an angel on the edge. It was beautiful, and she had another for Phoebe for when her baby was born.
“It is the most beautiful blanket I have ever seen, Hannah. Thank you so much.”
“You are more than welcome.” Hannah accepted another hug.
More people to protect, she thought. This baby would enter her world and be someone that man could hold over her.
“Are you well, Hannah?” Bella cupped her cheeks when they had parted. “Your face is puffy and your eyes red.”
Bella Fletcher was the youngest of the Langley sisters. She was a person who soothed you by just being in the same room. She was kind and gentle, and had once silently suffered through a great deal of pain. She had always held a special place in Hannah’s heart.
“The fish we were served for dinner last night was bad, Bella, and unfortunately this is the result.”
“Oh dear.” She was led forward to where the others all sat chatting.
“I feel like a used rag when compared to your beauty, Bella,” Hannah said, looking at the sparkle in her eyes.
“Luke says that, but I don’t believe either of you. I am as large as a cow and equally as cumbersome.”
“Come and sit, Hannah.” Phoebe came to join them. On one hip she held her daughter, Amanda, and the resemblance between the two was startlingly clear. Amanda had her mother’s coloring and beauty, and God help the men of society when she was ready to be presented, because Hannah had little doubt she would make the same impression as her mother; only this time, there would be a powerful family standing at her back.
“Hello, sweetheart.” Hannah bent to kiss the soft cheek of the little girl. She and Amanda were becoming friends, as they had seen a lot of each other over the last three years. “Should you be carrying her about in your condition, Phoebe?”
“I am pregnant, dear, not ill. I beg that, unlike my husband, you attempt to see the difference.”
“Your pardon.” Hannah found a smile for Amanda, who returned it.
“Some man somewhere has no notion of what will happen to him when he first lays eyes on you, my little darling.” Hannah poked a finger into Amanda’s tummy, making her giggle.
“Yes.” Phoebe sighed. “It has already started. Our footmen fall over themselves to serve her when she is about. It is most off-putting,” Phoebe said, lowering the little girl to her feet. “Finn says it is payment for me doing that to him and legions of men for years.”
“I suffered before him, with endless men calling upon my doorstep asking to speak to you and spouting poetry, if you will remember, sister,” Olivia said.
Phoebe smiled. “Yes, and most of it was horrid.”
“The only person who seems immune to Amanda is my son,” Livvy added. “In fact, he informed me that she is nothing but an annoying brat he has to tolerate because they share blood.”
“Yes, and it is a good thing,” Phoebe said, sending a fond glance to her daughter, “because universal adoration is good for no one.”
“Never having had it, I can’t pass comment, but it sounds uncomfortable from where I’m sitting, Phoebe,” Lady Althea Dillinger said.
Thea, to her friends. She was Will’s sister and the daughter of a duke, yet had chosen to marry Ace Dillinger, a commoner. She was a woman who had known what she wanted in life and gone after it, and Oliver Dillinger had not stood a chance.
She could not let anything happen to these people, Hannah realized. They were too precious to her.
“You really do not look your best, Hannah.” Phoebe stared at her. “Your face is flushed and swollen; in fact, you look perfectly horrid.”
“I feel it.” Not meeting Phoebe’s eyes, she told her and the other two women about the bad fish. She thought her story was believed until she chanced a look at Phoebe, who was watching her with a look that suggested she had her doubts.
They were all so dear to her, Hannah thought a few minutes later as she sipped her tea. Olivia, Phoebe, Bella, and Thea, plus their husbands and children. She felt the burden settle on her shoulders alongside the load of guilt she already carried over what she had done to Alex.
“Hannah, I heard about what happened to Alex. It was shocking, but Phoebe said he has recovered.”
“Yes, Bella, I believe he is much better now.” Hannah felt her stomach roll at the memory of what happened to him that night. That man wanted to kill him, and would have succeeded had Ben not arrived when he did.
“I believe you and Alex have grown closer, and can I say that Ace and I think it is the perfect match.”
“Thank you, Thea, we are as yet unsure if there is a future together for us.”
“Nonsense, Hannah. You and he are practically engaged; how could you not be, considering the time you have spent together?” Phoebe said, and her words merely confirmed what Hannah had already realized. In the eyes of society, she and Alex were a couple, and she had been fooling herself to believe otherwise.
“Don’t harass her, Phoebe, you can see she is unwell,” Livvy said, studying her.
“It’s all right, your sister has been speaking her mind to me for years. I assure you I am quite used to it,” Hannah said with a weak laugh. “But as I woke with a slight headache, as well as the illness from the fish that kept me awake all evening, I will not battle wits with her today.”
“Tea will help,” Bella said.
“And you and Alex will come to our dinner won’t you?”
The Dillinger dinner would be a grand affair, with a formal meal for many, followed by dancing. There would be people from differing worlds, lords, ladies, and industrialists. Not all accepted the notion of mingling with those they believed beneath them, but those who did understood that men like Ace Dillinger held the future of London in their hands.
How could she do that, attend balls and dinners as if her life was unchanged after the horror she had seen this day?
“Of course, we are both very excited about your dinner, Thea, as is father.”
They talked about their children, and families, and then moved on to the topic of Madame Alexander’s, and all the while Hannah’s thoughts churned, thinking of what she must do, and how she must also find a way to foil this man who would blackmail her and murder people without a care. She could not allow him to continue, knowing that she and those she cared for would not be safe if she did so. Yet what could she do?
“Lace, Hannah!”
“Sorry, what did you say, Phoebe?”
“I was discussing the lace Alex has procured from Scotland.”
“Yes, it is quite something.”
“Are you sure you are feeling all right, Hannah?”
“Yes, I just look horrid, but you…” Hannah leaned forward in her chair to examine her friend. She knew how to divert Phoebe. “You look pale and peaky.”
“I never look peaky and I’ll thank you not to mention that word in connection with me again!”
>
It was a constant source of irritation to her sisters and friends that Phoebe only ever looked beautiful. Still, they often tried to convince her otherwise.
“She was like that in her first pregnancy, do you remember, Bella?” Livvy jumped into the conversation.
“I was not.” Phoebe rolled her eyes. “And it is very bad of you to always try and make me believe I look ugly, when I do not.”
“It was worth a try though, Phoebe,” Thea said. “In all honesty, if I didn’t love you dearly I would loathe you passionately. Perhaps you could cut your hair just to make you look less…” Thea waved a hand about as she tried to come up with the right words.
“Of everything.” Hannah sighed. “If you would just do something like wear a sack about the place, it would be a service to the women of London.”
“I tried that once.” Phoebe nibbled a biscuit and looked like a Botticelli angel. “You remember, Hannah, we both wore shapeless dresses the color of mud to that picnic in the park.”
Hannah thought back to that day and wished she could go back in time and have the worries she’d had then. They had decided to see how people reacted to their clothing, men especially.
“I do, and you were surrounded by men the minute you arrived, and the next day several young ladies had dresses made in that exact color. But for what it’s worth, I thought you looked ugly. If my memory serves, didn’t Lord Peet write an ode to your beauty that day?”
“That’s right.” Phoebe shuddered. “Something about eyes and skies. It was terrible.”
Hannah sat back in her seat and thought about the blackmailer while more tea was poured and the woman chatted. How was she to get rid of him? Could she hire someone to murder him? The thought had merit, but then was she not just as bad as he? But didn’t he deserve to die, and wasn’t she, Hannah, doing the people of London a service by removing such a blackguard?
Could I hire someone to kill someone? The thought made her queasy.
“Hannah, you are woolly gathering again,” Phoebe said.
