Chapter Two: Marie Dubois
"There are two kinds of flowers when it comes to women, the kind that sits safe in a beautiful vase, or the kind that survive in any conditions . . . even in evil." ~Kate Quinn "The Alice Network."
March 13th, 1879
London, England, United Kingdom, Europe
THE DAILY TELEGRAPH
March 13th, 1879
"LORD MORGAN DEAD"
Lord Anthony Morgan leaves widow Nessie Morgan and son and heir Elliot Morgan after passing away from a sudden bout of sickness at his townhome in London, England.
They came at daybreak—the men she did not know.
Marie heard the door to her apothecary shop open, and someone entered, shuffling towards the fire where the sounds of movement stopped for a moment before the door opened again and shut. With a frown, she set down the mortar and pestle she was using to grind herbs to a fine powder and pulled on her gloves.
Then, in passing, she reached inside the pouch that hung on a hook for her revolver, fingers brushing past the newspaper that told of Lord Anthony Morgan's death.
Better safe than sorry, right?
Hiding the revolver behind her back and tiptoeing down the hall, Marie listened for the sounds of someone moving. Generally, if someone entered the shop, they would have called out and let her know they were there. Whoever this was, didn't. However, as soon as she got to the front of her shop, she realized no one was there. Nothing was out of place.
Except for the letter and a clear nondescript vial that sat on one of the chairs.
Carefully, she approached the letter and picked it up. Even through her leather gloves, she could tell that the paper was expensive. Opening the letter with shaking fingers, her heart dropped when she read the words penned in neat, swirling cursive; and realized just what the vial was—her vial of poison that she had given to Nessie Morgan.
"We know what you did. Come to Hyde Park at daybreak."
There was no signature, only the faint smell of a cologne she couldn't identify, and then the vial. So either someone had found it, or Nessie had given it to someone. Either way, this wasn't good. Noblemen could put her to death for this. Her past clients would be in danger, their names all written down in her register in the back room.
The only chance she had was to go to Whiteley Park in the next few minutes and hoped she could meet their demands. She didn't know what she was going to do if she couldn't.
…
Marie held her gun underneath her trench coat, finger resting next to the trigger, as she crept through the deep fog that lay over London. Whiteley Park was desolate, devoid of any life save for the gently rustling trees. A single carriage sat down the street, the horse let out a single whinny.
Two figures lie ahead, shrouded in black cloaks with hoods drawn up. One was several inches shorter than Marie, the other a few inches taller. She couldn't define any features other than the general shape of their faces, but she knew they were the people who had sent the letter. Marie came to a stop a few paces before the duo, mist kissing her cheeks and leaving her lips wet with dew.
"I received your letter." She called out, and the taller figure turned towards her, drawing down the hood in the process.
Before her, the young man was blond, with hair styled in a fringe hanging down the right side of his face. His eyes were red and calculating, hidden behind glasses and scanning her up and down as if trying to see if she was a threat in any way. He was younger than her by at least two or three years, if not more.
"We're grateful you could make it." The man replied, and Marie frowned,
"Did you have to make it so threatening?" She asked, and the man bowed his head slightly as if in apology.
"Apologies, it wasn't our intention to scare you." At this, Marie reached inside her coat for her gun and curled her hand around the familiar handle.
"Then what are you going to do? Are you going to turn me in? I read your letter: "We know what you did." That isn't something you say to someone you just want to have a chat with." She demanded
"On the contrary, we'd like to extend a job offer of sorts. If you'll meet with the potential employer, that is."
A job offer? Were they joking? Marie almost laughed before she saw the serious look on the man's face. But, of course, he was entirely serious, and she didn't know what to make of it.
"You threatened me out here to give me a job offer." It wasn't a question, her tone sharp and biting. The man's face twisted slightly as if uncomfortable with how she phrased her demand.
"Again, it wasn't our intention to scare you nor threaten you. What do you say to our proposal?" He asked, and Marie had to bite her tongue to stop from saying anything too foolish. However, her temper slipped out in her following words.
"I say you can sod off! I don't take kindly to threats!" She exclaimed and very nearly pointed her gun at the duo, the second figure still hadn't said anything, and it was making her nervous. Was the second figure a policeman? Waiting to see if she accepted any ridiculous proposals to take her to jail?
"Even if the information we have on you goes public? Will you still say no?" Marie stiffened at this and bared her teeth in a snarl. Looks like she was going to be forced to go with them.
That led them to where they were now. Marie sat stiffly in the carriage as it rattled along the empty London streets as the sun broke over the horizon and through the fog. She didn't see the other hooded figure nor the person driving the carriage; the only one whose face she knew was the blond young man with glasses. She clenched her hands in her lap, ignoring the sting of pain as her knuckles ached and creaked like a dying willow tree. She drew her coat about her, still concealing her gun in her satchel beneath the thick wool.
The carriage rumbled to a complete stop, and the man stood, stepping down out of the carriage and offering a hand up to Marie. She ignored it in favor of gathering her skirts and stepping down unaided. They were at a massive manor, with large windows and beautiful architecture.
The man took her ignoring his hand in stride, and led her up to a large set of oak double doors that belonged to the massive manor. Then, taking out a key and unlocking the door, he stepped aside to gesture her in, shedding his coat to expose the immaculate navy suit underneath.
Inside, the manor was just as grand, with a large chandelier and plush rugs. He led her down several hallways towards—if Marie had to guess—the potential employer, she was threatened into meeting.
As nervous and scared as she was, she couldn't help but gawk and take in all the decor. It was elegant and extravagant, and beyond anything she could hope ever to afford. It felt wrong just to look at it as if she was sullying the rooms just by looking at and walking through them.
The man—whose name she still didn't know—stopped at a set of doors; she could hear softened tones of people talking and opened them for her to see a sitting room surrounded by large windows. Inside were two men whom she didn't recognize but could assume that one was the employer they were so desperate for her to meet.
The two men were polar opposites of each other. One was tall and with pale blond hair and deep red eyes. He was clothed in an immaculate brown suit with a crimson tie and was currently nursing a steaming hot cup of tea despite the early morning. The other man was tall but had dark brunette hair and looked to be several years older, with emerald green eyes she nearly got lost in before she came to her senses with a slight shake of her head. The brunette was clothed in a dark gray suit with a green neckerchief around his neck.
Both were staring at her.
She pursed her lips, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the blond man who had brought her here. He was looking towards the other men with a sense of familiarity and, if she had to guess, was probably related to the both of them somehow. Perhaps brothers? She bit her tongue and pulled out the letter,
"I assume one of you sent me this letter?" She asked, breaking the silence. The blond in the brown suit nodded, setting down his cup of tea.
"That would be me. My name is-"
"Pardon the interruption, but I'll have you know I don't take kindly to threats. Or being dragged here at ungodly hours of the morning for a job offer I wasn't privy to know about when I met your messenger." She blurted before she could stop herself.
The room was silent. The bespectacled blond looked downright offended at the outburst whilst the blond in the brown suit and the brunette looked almost amused. The brunette turned to look at his accomplice,
"I think she'll fit right in, Brother." He said, and the other blond nodded, picking up his cup of tea.
"I agree, Brother. Now come, sit. We have much to discuss." He said, and Marie shook her head,
"Don't think I'm working for you just yet. You haven't even told me what this 'job offer' is yet." She snapped angrily and gestured wildly, "For all I know, you brought me here to kill me for what I've done!" The blond took a sip of his tea and set it down again before clearing his throat to speak.
"We aren't here to do anything quite like that. On the contrary, we would like to extend the offer for you to work for us. Me specifically." Marie's world screeched to a halt. Work for them? Why would they want that? At the look on her face, the man elaborated.
"You would still be able to continue your work of helping men and women; you would just occasionally be called to assist us using your particular set of skills with poisons. You see, we want to make a difference, to do away with the aristocracy and the nobles and the hierarchy. Will you help us?" He sat back in his seat, clasping his hands together while waiting for the words to process in Marie's mind. She honestly didn't know what to say. Work for someone else? She had only ever had herself. She ignored the voice in her head that whispered, "What about Matthew?" in favor of answering.
"But I don't even know your names. I'm sure you already know mine." She said, and as she said those words, she knew she was stalling. She already knew what her answer would be.
The blond man smiled then—he looked nice when he smiled—and stood, offering a hand to her,
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Dubois. My name is William, William James Moriarty. These are my brothers, Louis and Albert." He said and gestured to the other blond and the brunette, respectively. She grasped his hand in hers and prayed he couldn't feel her mangled fingers through her thick leather gloves.
"Now, have we come to an agreement?" William asked, and she pursed her lips before nodding.
"Yes."
