He reddened at this, and looked relieved when Dorcas interrupted. “It were eva so good to see Mr. Prism again, but I were fearful ashamed that ‘e’d think badl
y o’ me assumin’ I were still workin’ fer ‘er establishment.”
“Nor would it have changed my opinion of you, Miss Dorcas,” he assured her vehemently. “I have been ill-used by my father. I know what it is to be forced to perform immoral acts against one’s good conscience, and so you and I are alike. Dorcas was forced against her will to do what made her soul shrivel inside her.” His eyes grew bright in his pallid face and he leaned forward. “But when I overheard what Mrs. Montgomery was saying to Dorcas, I realized that Dorcas and I could redress the balance because of what we know, and because we both want to work for what is right, and we both understand something of the evil network that operates at Mrs. Montgomery’s.”
He paused to draw breath and Dorcas burst out, “I were talkin’ te me friend, Sal, wot’s one of Mrs. Montgomery’s girls—yer met ‘er once, Miss Kitty—‘n she told me that Lord Debenham pays ‘is favorites ter give ‘im information wot ‘e can use ter blackmail people fer money. She reckons it were Lord Debenham wot blackmailed Lord Calder, causin’ him ter take ‘is life.”
Kitty remembered Silverton’s dismay at losing his friend, and his suspicions regarding the blackmailer.
But while the insidious fear surrounding Mrs. Montgomery’s power seeped through her, so did the thought that she could help bring justice to Lord Debenham with the aid of these two before her. Each of them had some insight into Mrs. Montgomery’s evil empire or knew—more than most people—about Lord Debenham’s nefarious activities.
She leaned forward excitedly. “Dorcas, Mr. Prism, I’m so glad you’re here. The three of us can make a change for good. We can work together to redress some of the wickedness we’ve seen but been unable to change.”
Excitement began to churn inside her. Imagine if she, Kitty, could be known for something other than for her lack of respectability as an actress, or the unacknowledged illegitimate daughter, or the mistress of two of society’s most eligible bachelors. Imagine if, in her own right, Kitty could be known for bringing to justice a nemesis to society.
“Are you telling me you’re here because you know something important? Something that really could go toward convicting Lord Debenham?”
Mr. Prism and Dorcas nodded in unison, then Dorcas said, “There’s an engraved pewter box, yer see, that ‘e ‘as unda lock ‘n key. No one knows ‘bout it, but it contains all ‘is secrets.” She lowered her voice. “All o’ ‘em. And Sal, she reckons she knows ‘xactly where ‘e keeps it.”
Chapter 17
Araminta stared at the scrap of paper lying on the elegant round table in her private dressing room, and feared she was about to be sick. She’d been doing that a lot lately. Being sick, but the occasion now was nothing to do with the nausea that had plagued her each morning with regular monotony, and which she dreaded might be her worst nightmare—another child. Lord Debenham’s child. She contoured her slender waist and closed her eyes, reflecting on how recently her body was hers again. The body that drove men wild. She hadn’t intended ever to become pregnant again.
Then she did another turn about the room, her hands clenched into fists, before returning to stare once more at the note. Perhaps she’d been mistaken in the way she’d read it the first time.
Lady D. Your husband wants to know why you gave away your ruby and diamond necklace. Shall I tell him, or would you like to make a donation for my silence? Meet me at 5 o’clock inside the Western gate, Highgate Cemetery, with five hundred pounds.
Araminta gripped the table, afraid she was going to faint. Who knew the story of the necklace?
Kitty La Bijou, of course.
A gust of wind down the chimney stirred the letter at the same time as a thought speared Araminta’s mind. Who else knew about the necklace? Well, the awful woman to whom Miss La Bijou had taken Araminta when she was giving birth.
One of them must have sent the blackmail note. Araminta had been sure she’d pulled the wool over credulous Miss Bijou’s eyes, but that greasy creature—what was her name? Mrs. Mobbs—she must have told Miss Bijou. Could Miss Bijou be responsible for this? Swiftly she seized the letter and crumpled it in her hand and threw it at the fireplace.
Jane appeared in the room at the very moment she let out her cry of frustration.
“Can’t fit inter yer fav’rite gown fer this evenin’, m’lady?” Jane asked, unfazed by her mistress’s distress as she calmly picked up the piece of paper that had missed the blaze. She raised her eyebrows. “Or did someone write yer sumfink yer didn’t like?”
“Go on, read it then! I know you’re dying to, and perhaps you can then tell me what I should do!” Hissing out a breath, Araminta began to stalk from one end of the room to the other while Jane held the paper up to the light.
Fragmented multicolors made her vision swim. “I was so sure Debenham believed I’d pawned the necklace and there’d be no more questions. But someone wants to tell him the truth, don’t they?”
“Are yer goin’ ter give ‘em the money?” Jane sat on a stool and began to roll up a pair of discarded stockings.
“With what? I have no more pin money for this quarter.” Araminta ran her fingers through her hair before turning an imploring face toward her maid. “What should I do, Jane? Do you think the letter comes from Kitty La Bijou? Should I confront her? Tell her what ill will come to her if—”
“Yer might consider ‘oney a better bet than vinegar, m’lady. Not that I reckon Miss Bijou ‘as anyfink to do wiv it. Nah…but she might know, though. Have yer thought about that, then? Why not go to ‘er sweet, like, ‘n ask her ter ‘elp yer? That’s wot I’d do. She ‘elped yer afore.”
“You really don’t think she’s taking advantage of the situation? Of what she knows through helping me before?”
Jane rolled her eyes. “Trouble is—if yer don’t mind me sayin’ m’lady—is that yer believe others fink the same as yer. Miss Bijou, it seems ter me, is a good sort ‘n would more likely ‘elp yer.”
“Oh, Jane, what have I got to lose? Only everything if Debenham finds out.” Another wave of nausea threatened to swamp Araminta, only this time it wasn’t on account of her fear over the letter. No, it was purely physical, and as soon as Araminta had delivered up the contents of her stomach into the chamber pot, she threw herself onto the bed and burst into noisy tears.
“Debenham has his revenge, truly he has, without slicing my throat!” she wailed as she clutched her stomach and hung her head over the edge of the bed.
She opened her eyes at the cool dampness of a flannel dabbing at her temples and stared dolefully into her maid’s face.