by Blake,Zoe
“I’m off. Walk me out?”
“Of course,” breathed Sarah. Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink from his regard. “I will just be a moment, Victoria.”
Sarah followed Pierce out into the entry hall.
Wrapping his arms around her tiny waist, he touched the tip of his nose to hers. “Tell me again.”
Exasperated, Sarah sighed. “We’ve been over this three times!”
Raising his right hand, he gave her a quick spank on the bottom. Even through her heavy skirts, she could still feel a warm sting from his heavy hand. “Tell. Me. Again.”
Pouting, Sarah obeyed. “I will stay inside at all times. I will only receive Mrs. Needham or one of the girls from the studio. I will not talk to any journalists or constables.”
“And…”
“And I promise to rest and not worry,” she finished on a rush.
He gave her a tender kiss on the forehead. “Good girl. I am meeting with my barrister this morning. I am sure we will get this whole thing cleared up before the date of the assizes and grand jury.”
Sarah bit her lower lip out of nervousness. “Thank you,” she said in a low shy voice.
“For what?”
“For believing me.”
“My love, it was never a question. Now go back to your friend. I will see you in a few hours.”
“Are we going to do another photographic session?”
“If you’re good,” he said with wink before grabbing his hat and walking stick as he left.
Sarah returned to the parlor for her visit with Victoria.
~*~
Pierce returned by late afternoon. He was confident his barrister would get the indictment retracted. After a few inquiries, he learned there was no actual evidence Sarah had bought the chocolates or arsenic. There was such a large amount found in Florence’s stomach, at least 6 grains, the coroner is convinced death came within hours. Sarah had been absent all day…with him. Something he assured his barrister he would swear to in court if necessary.
The front door was open before he even alighted the stairs.
“My lord, thank god you are back!”
“What is wrong, Parker? Where is Sarah?” The cold fist of fear gripped him. A hundred scenarios played out in his mind. The worst of which was she had been dragged back to that awful prison.
Rushing into his home, he threw off his hat and coat and took the stairs two at a time. The aging Parker struggled to keep up. Pierce burst into his suite of rooms only to find them quiet and undisturbed. Turning on Parker he demanded, “Where the hell is she?”
“I put her in the blue guest room. I thought it best for propriety. The doctor is seeing to her now. I told him she was your ward.” This last bit was called out to Pierce’s back as he was already striding towards the guest wing of the house.
Pierce burst through the door as the doctor was finishing listening to Sarah’s breathing sounds.
Pierce had to grab the bed poster to steady himself. She looked so pale and worn. There was a fine sheen of perspiration on her skin. Her cheeks were flushed a scarlet red.
Running a hand over his mouth and jaw, he asked hoarsely, “What is the matter with her, Doctor?”
“Let’s discuss it in the hall.”
“No. I’m not leaving her side.” Pierce walked around the bed and picked up her small hand. It felt cold.
“This is not easy to say, but I believe your ward may have been poisoned.”
Pierce lowered his brow. “How is that possible? She has been under my care.”
“I had the cook send up the dishes from anything she ate. I was just about to examine them.”
Reluctantly, Pierce released Sarah’s hand and followed the doctor to a covered wheeled care containing the remnants of afternoon tea.
“We are fortunate, they had not washed the dishes yet.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Well if it is arsenic, as I suspect, there will be no taste or smell but…” At this, the doctor paused as he lifted the lid of the teapot. Tilted the contents to the side, he nodded his head. “Ah, here.” He gestured for Pierce to come close. “Do you see that gritty sediment at the bottom of the pot? Arsenic. It dissolves perfectly in warm beverages but turns gritty and heavy when it cools.”
Pierce ran his hand through his hair. “Arsenic?” He immediately thought of Florence. “Doctor, there was a nasty bit of business…”
“Your butler already informed me there was a death at your ward’s school was it?”
“Something like that. That woman died. Is she…is Sarah…” Pierce could not form the words. The very idea of his feisty little American beauty dying on him was untenable.
“Judging from these cups and her symptoms, I believe she will pull through.”
Pierce looked down at the teacups. One was filled to the brim, untouched. The other only about half full.
“What do we do now?”
“While she is only experiencing the mild symptoms of lethargy and nausea, there is a danger if the poison stays within her it could escalate. Some have put stock in Orfila’s antidote which is a solution of hydrated sesquioxide of iron. Other’s in having the patient consume the ashes from burned leather, still others swear by bloodletting.”
“You will not bleed her,” Pierce ordered harshly.
“No. No. No, my boy. Wouldn’t think it,” assured the elderly doctor. “If she were mine, I would do a stomach siphon, a purge. It is not pretty but it will remove the poison. I believe we caught it in time to work.”
“She is mine,” Pierce asserted as he stroked her hair, his voice having an unmistakable tint of possession. “Do the purge.”
If she is this man’s ward, I’ll eat my hat, thought the doctor.
“If you will just give me some privacy. My assistant is returning at any moment and then we will proceed.”
Pierce nodded and headed to the door, where he knew Parker would be waiting. “I want all the staff interrogated. Starting with whomever prepared the tea tray.”
“I will conduct the interviews, personally, my lord. Is she going to be well?” Parker’s face showed both strain and concern. Despite Parker’s earlier misgivings, Sarah had charmed her way into the stiffly proper British butler’s heart. And he wasn’t the only one.
Pierce laid a comforting hand on Parker’s shoulder. “I simply won’t allow her to die. Do not forget to send a note to Mrs. Needham’s. One of her girls was visiting Sarah. I want to ensure she is fine as well.”
“As you wish, my lord,” said Parker with a bow.
Pierce returned to the room. Walking over to Sarah’s bed, he pulled back the bed linens.
“My lord?”
Pierce ignored him as he gingerly picked up Sarah, cradling her in his arms. His stomach twisted when she gave out a weak moan.
“My lord? What are you doing?”
Pierce strode out the door and down the hall with the doctor on his heels.
Kicking his bedroom door wide open, Pierce walked over to his bed and placed her on its downy softness. Without taking his eyes off Sarah’s pale face, he professed, “This is where she belongs.”
Definitely not his ward, thought the doctor.
~*~
One week later…
“Please! I am perfectly fine!” begged Sarah.
Pierce looked back, unconvinced, still unnerved from almost losing her. The doctor says she was lucky. She had consumed less than a grain of arsenic by his reckoning. Higher doses then that are prescribed to people for anything from cholera to bad skin. Still it had laid her low for several days. Fortunately, her friend, Victoria he believed, was unscathed having not sipped her tea.
Both Pierce and Parker had done a thorough vetting of the staff, all of whom had been with him for years. No one had seen anything out of the ordinary. He was chasing down a report of a peddler boy who entered the kitchen trying to sell rags and bits around the time the tea tray was being prepared but they, as of yet, could not find
him. In the meantime, he had called for several footmen who resided on his country estate and whom he knew they could trust to come to London to help guard the house and Sarah.
Someone had tried to kill his Sarah and that someone had to pay.
Pierce also made a point of informing the magistrate and Detective Constable Chuzzlewit about the new development. In his mind, it proved she was innocent. Someone was targeting Mrs. Needham’s girls and he wanted to know why.
Sarah interrupted his dark musings. “I will just be in the parlor. Please! I will go stark raving mad if I am confined to this bedroom one more day!”
Still, Pierce resisted.
“She is my closest friend here. I am certain she means me no harm. It will be safe!”
“Fine but only for a quarter of an hour. The doctor left strict orders you are to rest for at least another week.”
“Really, because I recall him saying I was completely recovered and could return to my usual daily schedule a few days ago,” responded Sarah cheekily.
Pierce smiled. “You little minx. We thought you had fallen asleep!”
“Good thing I hadn’t or you would have me believe the doctor ordered bed rest for another fortnight!”
Pierce’s smiled wavered. “I’m just concerned.”
Sarah crossed the room to sit on his lap. “I don’t mean to jest. It is just my way of coping. If I think too long on it and the whole frightful mess I will burst into tears.”
That was not entirely true. Sarah had thought a great deal about Florence’s murder, her own brush with death and the murder charge handing over her head. She tried to put on a brave face for Pierce because she could see the tension and worry on his face. He had even refused to make love to her these last few days, insisting on only holding her. No matter how she tried to assure him, he was still concerned his amorous attentions would be too much for her. The only way to return her life to a semblance of normality was to figure out who was trying to kill her and who had killed Florence. She hoped Elma had some insight having lived in Mrs. Needham’s employ longer than she.
Pierce stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “You know I will protect you.”
“I do,” whispered Sarah. She gave him a shy kiss on the cheek before leaving the room to greet Elma who was waiting for her in the parlor.
~*~
When Sarah walked through the door, she was greeted by an anxious Elma.
“I’m so sorry!” she cried as she hugged Sarah close.
Sarah petted her wiry red curls. “It is not your fault, dear! Besides, I’m fine.”
“You don’t understand. It is my fault!”
Sarah stared at Elma with alarm. Taking a step back as she pulled Elma’s hands from her waist, she asked, “What are you saying, Elma?”
Throwing her hand over her mouth, Elma shook her head erratically. “Oh god! No! No, Sarah! I didn’t mean that! I mean I could have stopped it but I was a coward and I am so sorry!” Elma started to cry again.
“What do you know? Do you know who killed Florence? Who tried to kill me?”
Elma slowly nodded her head.
Sarah grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a small shake. “Tell me, Elma.”
“Lord Warrington,” Elma whispered, careful to not be overheard.
Sarah took a step back. “That…that is…it can’t be…no…it’s ridiculous! How could you say such a thing!”
“I have proof!” claimed Elma as she reached into the deep pocket of her skirt. Elma pulled out a folded note. “Here.”
For you.
P.
Sarah recognized the handwriting as Pierce’s from his previous note but she had never seen this one.
“Where did you get this?”
“It was lying next to the box of chocolates Florence ate. I’m the one who found her. I saw the box of chocolates and realized they looked like the ones you bought for her the day we had tea at Lyon’s Corner. I snatched up the note just in case you had written it. Then Mary entered before I had a chance to read it. Without thinking, I put it in my pocket and then left to find you. I went to Mr. Flopson’s but you weren’t there. When I got back to Mrs. Needham’s, the constables were hauling you away. I was so frightened I didn’t know what to do, so I ran to Rose’s, my…my painter friend.”
Sarah was barely listening to Elma’s rambling explanation. Did Pierce try to kill her and got poor Florence instead? Only to try again when she was under his protection? No. It was too senseless. For what purpose? She was nothing to him! Well, perhaps nothing but still. Then Sarah thought back. He was very angry upon learning she was still an innocent. He had sent the chocolates that same night. Could it be he thought she had somehow seduced him? Did he think she was some scheming American trying to catch him in a parson’s trap? Could it be the real reason why he was angry the day she went to Mr. Flopson’s instead of him was he had planned on finishing the job? Maybe the only reason he rescued her from prison was to keep her from mentioning his name and dragging him into a scandal. Then there was the mysterious Linked Ring Brotherhood mentioned by Victoria. It was all too much!
“Oh Elma, it can’t be. It just can’t,” muttered Sarah as she rubbed her temples. Her head hurt just contemplating it all.
“There is no other explanation, Sarah! He sent the chocolates for you. He even tried to kill you again with the tea!” she urged in hush whispers.
Oh god, the tea, thought Sarah. Pierce had brought the tray in himself. She remembered him saying something about a parlor maid spilling it but what if that was just a ruse? What if he was covering up the fact he had put arsenic in the teapot. Good lord, he could have killed Victoria as well!
“What do I do?”
“We have to get you out of here!”
“That is not possible. He has footman at every door. The magistrate bound me over into his custody. Oh, Elma. What am I going to do?”
“You are not safe here. We have to get you away. Far away. No one is going to believe you over a powerful lord. If he doesn’t murder you, he will see you hanged for Florence’s murder. You have no choice, Sarah. You have to leave for America.”
“America?”
America was her birthplace and her home and yet, her months in England had changed her. Like her grandmother, she felt more at home here, in London. The idea of returning to America had never occurred to her. Now she supposed she had no choice. Elma was right, no one would take her word over an influential lord.
“Sarah?”
“You’re right. I need to leave now but how…how…” Sarah paced around the parlor as Elma anxiously looked on. “I have it. We will go to the conservatory. I will tell the footman I wanted to show you around. We will then slip through one of the low windows and escape through the grounds.”
“What happens if they catch us?”
“They won’t,” assured a confident Sarah, “but we need to hurry. Pierce is likely to check on us at any moment.”
Sarah had a moment of doubt as they entered the conservatory. The balmy floral scent, the lush greenery, the colorful flowers…all reminded her of her first session with Pierce. His sensual intensity. The spell he expertly wove over her. With deep sadness, she realized it was all probably a lie. An intricate seduction. A game.
With hardened resolve, Sarah wove her way through the trees and rose bushes to the back of the conservatory. Opening a large windowpane, they climbed over the ledge. It was just a short drop to the grass below. In no time, they were hand and hand running to the back gate. They would run to the street and hail a hansom cab to take Sarah directly to the docks. She would book passage on the next steamer to America.
Neither girl noticed the two footmen following closely behind.
Chapter Fourteen
“Stupid tide!” groused Sarah.
“Time and tide wait for no man,” was Elma’s sage response. At Sarah’s odd expression, she looked affronted. “What? Just because I’m Scottish I can’t read Chaucer?”
“I�
�m fleeing for my life, can we postpone the discussion on English medieval literature?” grumbled Sarah.
“The Captain says he can’t launch until high tide. There is nothing to be done,” placated Elma.
High tide was not for at least four hours. Plenty of time for Sarah to reconsider her rash decision to run. They were holed up in an upstairs room of a tavern along the docks. Their afternoon tea consisted of weak tea, certainly made from old used tealeaves, brown bread, brown butter and something that looked suspiciously like souse. Sarah cringed.
After leaving Warrington House, they had no choice but to sneak into Mrs. Needham’s for Sarah to grab her stashed money and a few personal items before leaving for the London docks. While there were always plenty of ships leaving for America, the delay in getting her things caused them to miss the tide. The next steamers would not leave till late tonight. At least Elma offered to stay and keep her company. Sarah was extremely grateful. The servants at the tavern had been kind but it did not escape her notice they catered to a rough crowd.
“Are you sure you won’t come with me?” asked Sarah for the third time.
“Posh, what would I do in America? My place is here. Besides, maybe one day you could return?” she answered hopefully. Although they both knew with a vengeful, powerful lord on her heels and a murder charge over her head, Sarah was never returning.
They both fell into a mournful silence. Sarah was left with her thoughts of doubt and dread. Had she made a mistake in assuming the worst of Pierce?
~*~
The patrons of the tavern turned with curiosity as a bright flash of white light from the door opening lit the dim interior. Seeing the intruder’s aristocratic bearing and the obvious cold-rage emanating from his hard expression, they quickly turned back to their pints.
Pierce scanned the dark room filled with rough wood benches and even rougher looking sailors. For the hundredth time in the last two hours, he swallowed a curse. When he got his hands on Sarah, he would dole out a punishment she would not soon forget.