Chapter Seven: The Noahtic Part Two
"Poison is in everything, and no thing is without poison. The dosage makes it either a poison or a remedy." ~Paracelsus
March 18th, 1879
London, England, United Kingdom, Europe
Marie heard all the commotion before she saw it.
It had been several hours since she had given the poison to Count Enders. All the noblemen were at the ballet that was being performed on the boat. She was tasked with cleaning up the dining room with several other servants—gathering dishes, cleaning tables, and gathering tablecloths for laundry.
Her mouth watered as she dumped plate after plate of delicious uneaten food into the garbage. It was a shame they couldn't eat the leftovers from the nobles. The head of staff threatened to beat any servant caught eating on the job or even picking from the plates of nobles. So she distracted herself from her growling stomach by picking at the hole in her gloves, slowly making it bigger and more prominent. She'd need some new gloves after this; she still had to hide her hands.
That was when she heard it.
The sound of shouting and the thundering of footsteps heading in their general direction.
She glanced up and saw the staff member overseeing the cleaning looking worriedly towards the double doors that led out into the hallway. She dropped the tablecloth she was holding and hurried to the double doors, peeking out into the hallway with a frown.
The doors swung open and promptly smacked her in the nose; she stumbled back and fell on her rear as several pairs of feet thundered past her. Glancing up through the pain, Marie saw Count Enders sprinting as if his life depended on it towards the double doors that lead to the outside decks. Several men ran after him, the head of the group being a tall man in a dark suit with dark blue hair tied back in a ponytail.
Marie stood up and rubbed at her nose with a handkerchief—feeling blood drip down her chin—before hurrying out the double doors and was promptly grabbed from the side.
Count Enders held a knife to her chin and held her arms roughly behind her.
"Don't move, or she gets it!" He shrieked, voice high pitched and reedy with anger, his face bright red and veins bulging in his temples. He waved the knife wildly in front of him, keeping the men surrounding them back before putting the knife back to her throat. She felt the pinprick of pain as the blade cut into her skin.
The fear set in.
Her heart rate skyrocketed, and the cold sweat began to drip down her face, mixing with the blood dripping down her chin. Her breath came in wheezing gasps, chest heaving as her hands twisted uncomfortably behind her. Her eyes scanned the crowd wildly before alighting on a familiar face.
William stood motionless in the crowd—looking mildly worried but overall unaffected—next to Louis and Albert, who had varying degrees of worry on their faces.
Why wasn't William worried?
Count Enders was shaking in hysterical rage as he started walking, keeping his knife to her throat as he began walking towards one of the smokestacks of the boat.
"STAY BACK!" Enders bellowed as the tall man with the dark blue hair in the ponytail took a step forward. He froze and held up his hands,
"Let's not do anything rash now." He called to Enders, who shook his head wildly, not saying anything, pressing the knife harder into her neck.
"You needn't do this." She whispered frantically and whimpered as the knife dug in deeper into her neck,
"Not a word out of you, swine, or I'll gut you like the pig you are." Count Enders spat, his spittle landing on her cheek, and she winced.
No.
She wouldn't die here.
Not when she still had so much to do.
Marie raised her foot and stomped hard with her heeled shoe onto Count Enders' right foot. She heard something crunch as she did so. He let go with a shout of pain and shoved her away and into the crowd of men before turning and running. She stumbled and was caught by someone as everyone else ran after Enders.
She looked up in time to see him fall from the boat into the ocean below.
…
Marie held tightly onto her luggage as she descended the ramp from the boat onto solid land. She gritted her teeth as she was jostled from side to side with other passengers and staff walking down the walkway. She could see Louis's blond head of hair waiting by the carriage to take her and the rest of their group's members home. Then, adjusting the skirts of her walking dress—a beautiful brown tweed hemmed a few inches off the ground to aid in walking, with a bustle, and a dark pair of new leather gloves to match—Marie disembarked and walked towards the carriage.
She stopped when she saw William talking with the tall man who had led the chase against Count Enders. Holding her suitcase in both hands, she approached just as William started walking away. Hurrying to catch up, she fell into step alongside the tall blond and cleared her throat,
"Who was that man? I remember seeing him on the upper decks." She asked, and William hummed.
"He said his name was Sherlock. Detective Sherlock Holmes." He replied just as they reached the carriage where Louis and Albert were waiting. Moran and Fred had taken up their usual posts at the front to drive the carriage. She accepted Louis's hand up into the carriage and he took her luggage to put away.
The carriage ride was silent for a few moments before Albert spoke up,
"How are you doing, Marie? You still look rather pale after your encounter with the Count. And your nose doesn't look much better." He said, and Marie tightened her grip on her skirts, gritting her teeth again. Her nose throbbed—a lovely bruise had formed where the door had hit her in the face.
"I had a near-death experience. So forgive me if I seem a bit off." She said, attempting to reign in her temper as it started to bubble.
William spoke up from his spot next to her.
"There was a high probability that you would've been fine. We had it under control." He said calmly, and Marie had to take a deep breath to refrain from screaming at him.
"High probability? I don't want to deal with 'probabilities,' Mr. Moriarty. I want to deal with facts. Facts and figures. Especially when dealing with people's lives. That's how I run things with my poisonings." Marie snapped, and William shrugged,
"Unfortunately, we will likely deal with situations like that again. You best get used to it, Miss Dubois. This is how we operate," He said, and she scoffed.
"I ought to slap you right now. I really ought to. I ought to do a lot more than slap you. You put my life at risk without telling me. You had no right to do that. Next time, tell me when I'm about to put my life on the line." She said, voice shaking ever so slightly. He gave a single nod,
"I'll keep that in mind." He said, and she gave a nod of her own before turning to look out the window and the scenery passing by.
"You better."
