Chapter Eleven: Amelia Ruth Part Three
"I see the glass half full… but of poison." ~Woody Allen
*trigger warning for mentions and descriptions of panic attacks in this chapter*
June 23rd, 1879
London, England, United Kingdom, Europe
"Matthew!" Marie called, waving a hand as she spotted the man coming out of his house. Their gazes locked, and his eyes lit up, his lips splitting into a beaming grin.
"Edith!" He broke into a run and scooped her up in a hug, spinning her around before setting her down. She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck to keep from falling over. He grinned down at her, smoothing a lock of brunette hair behind her ear before leaning down to give her a sweet kiss.
A hole opened up beneath Marie's feet as she stared into those brown eyes she remembered so well, and she had to focus on not collapsing onto the cobblestone. She could hear Daisy next to her speaking, but everything sounded muffled like she was listening through cotton stuffed in her ears. Then, faintly she heard her wine glass drop from her fingertips and shatter to the floor.
All she could focus on was Matthew.
He was looking at her as if it was the first time all over again.
"Edith? Is that really you?" He asked, his voice quiet and cracking, and he dropped his mask to the ground and took a step forward. She took a step back, and he paused.
"What are you doing here." She said. It wasn't a question. Because what was he doing here? Why here? Why now? He looked hurt, confusion dashing across his features.
"I- I was invited. I know Lord Ruth, we go golfing on weekends. What are you doing here?" He asked, wringing his hands together.
"Same as you. I happened to get an invitation from Lady Amelia Ruth." She stated, voice curt and clipped. She didn't want to be here. If she were here any longer, she was going to pass out.
"Excuse me?" Daisy began and stepped up to Marie's side. "I thought your name was Alice St. Clair." She demanded, and Marie chewed on her lip, not caring about her carefully applied makeup. She turned to Daisy, placing her gloved hands on her shoulders and looking into her eyes.
"I promise I'll explain everything. I just need you to go inside. Please." She said earnestly, and Daisy looked concerned but nodded and left, hurrying inside where the music had started up again.
Then it was just Matthew and Marie alone.
He was staring at her; eyes welled with unshed tears and silent.
"Listen, I have to go-"
"Wait!" Matthew lunged forward and grabbed her hand just as she turned to leave. She cried out in pain as her knuckles harshly got pressed together. Matthew let go as if he had just grabbed a hot iron. They stood facing each other now, Marie cradling her throbbing hand, having dropped her mask in the commotion.
"Are you hurt?" He asked tentatively, and she paused before nodding. "Can I see?" He said, and she shook her head,
"No. No one can see. No one except me." She said softly, and Matthew drew his hands back until they rested at his sides.
"What happened to you? You disappeared. Edith, it's been eight years!" He suddenly exclaimed, and Marie flinched.
"My name isn't Edith." Was all she managed, and Matthew recoiled as if struck across the cheek.
"What do you mean? Of course, your name is Edith. It's Edith Cavell. I've known you since we were sixteen—we were going to get married—you can't have forgotten all of that!" His voice was coming faster now, getting higher pitched and reedy with panic as he thought she had forgotten him.
But she could never forget him.
"No—no, you misunderstand. My name is Marie. Marie Dubois. Edith Cavell was a fake name I used while under your father's service." She said, and he looked at her with those tears streaming down his cheeks. She resisted the urge to run forward, to wipe those tears from his face. She couldn't do that.
Not anymore.
Just then, Daisy came hurrying around the corner.
"Alice! Alice! Something terrible has happened!" She called out, and Marie turned away from Matthew and towards the other woman. She took out her fan and began to fan herself quickly as she tried to catch her breath. Marie waited, pointedly ignoring Matthew as she did so.
"What's going on, Daisy?" She asked, and Daisy threw her arms around Marie in a tight hug, nearly sending them tumbling to the floor.
"Lady Amelia Ruth is dead! She's collapsed and isn't breathing!" She cried, eyes wide and panicked at the thought of her lover's wife being dead even if the said wife wanted her killed.
Marie followed Daisy back into the dance hall without a word and heard Matthew pick up the dropped masks from the ground and follow behind them. She cast a look behind her and watched him wipe tears from his cheeks and compose himself, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath before he joined them inside the dance hall.
Neither of them said a word to each other.
Everyone was gathered around something, and as Marie pushed her way through the crowd, she came face to face with Amelia Ruth.
It was time to make sure her plan had been put into action.
Amelia was on the floor, face red and chest not moving. "It seemed like the poison did the trick," Marie mused and took in the sight of the woman dead on the floor. Her husband was at her side, trying to rouse her, but she could tell he was only in shock at seeing someone dead; he really didn't care that it was his wife. He didn't care anymore, at least.
Marie hung back as a doctor in the crowd stepped forward and rested his fingers at her pulse point in her neck. She already knew what he would find, but she was still almost giddy to hear him declare he couldn't find a pulse and that "Lady Ruth is dead!"
Daisy Harrington was safe, and Amelia Ruth was dead.
Mission accomplished.
…
Marie saw Matthew again as she waited for her carriage to pull up so she could leave. The Moriarty's had thought it best that she didn't arrive with them, so Nessie had lent her a carriage from her estate to come in instead. It was more discreet, without the Moriarty's crest plastered on the side. As her carriage pulled up, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning, she came face to face with Mattew.
He was holding out her mask, eyes redrimmed from crying. Though she suspected no one noticed but her. He had ditched his mask, it being held in the other hand behind his back.
"You dropped this." He said softly, and she took it. He was careful not to touch her hands any longer than he had to, his fingers brushing lightly against hers.
"Thank you." She replied and turned to leave,
"Wait—Edith or I guess Marie—will I ever see you again?" He asked, and she felt her heart constrict in her chest.
When she blinked, all she saw was the bloody peacock statuette and a man with black hair looming over her, blue eyes blazing with fury.
Blinking again, she was face to face with Matthew's hopeful face, and a memory surfaced.
"So?" Matthew asked, looking nervous and hopeful all at once as he held out his hand; a small box lay open in his palm. A gold ring with roses made of rubies sat in the center of the box. Marie stood shocked at the sight of such a gorgeous piece of jewelry.
"A-are you sure you want to marry me? I mean—I'm just a gardener…." She said quietly, and Matthew stood from his spot on one knee. He gently held her forearms and leaned his forehead against hers. She couldn't help but smile and gently intertwined the unbroken fingers of her left hand with his right, his left hand holding the ring box.
"There's no one I would rather marry than you, Edith. I want to spend the rest of my life with you! So, what do you say?" He asked again, and she nodded, her smile growing.
"Then yes! Yes, I'll marry you!" Matthew beamed and leaned down, kissing her enthusiastically and holding her close. She returned his kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck with a squeak as he lifted her up and spun her around.
For once, none of it mattered. Not his father. Not his father's threats. Not her status versus Matthew's. All that mattered was that moment in time right then.
She stepped back and withdrew her hand, watching as Matthew's heart broke all over again.
"N-no. I don't think so. I'm sorry. Have a good night." She said and accepted the footman's hand up into her carriage, leaving him behind her in the night.
…
By the time she arrived back at the Moriarty household, she was near tears. Her heart was thundering in her chest. She could barely breathe, and it wasn't because of her corset. She stumbled her way up the steps and hurriedly knocked on the door. Louis opened, lantern in one hand and the other holding the door open.
"Marie? Are you-" She pushed past him, abandoning her mask to the floor in favor of gathering her skirts and making her way up the stairs towards her bedroom.
She didn't even make it halfway before simply leaning against the wall and falling to her knees. Her skirts plumed around her before she angrily pushed them down and put her head in her hands. She vaguely heard Louis follow her up the stairs and stop by her side.
"Marie, what's going on?" He asked, and she shook her head, refusing to let her tears fall even as she looked at the bespectacled man.
"Bedroom. Please help me to my bedroom." Was all she managed, and he stopped for a moment before nodding, gently grasping her arms and helping her to her feet. He opened her door, and she nearly collapsed inside the doorway.
It was hard to breathe; her head spun. She began to tear frantically at the back of her corset, trying desperately to unlace the thing but failing with her shaking and broken fingers.
"What are you doing?!" Louis sputtered, cheeks flaring as red as his eyes as she tore off her skirts and the petticoats of her dress, leaving her in her decency skirt, chemise, and drawers to get at the lacing of her corset.
She couldn't breathe.
She was going to pass out.
"Get this off of me! Louis, help me! Get this off!" She demanded, voice high with panic. She heard footsteps approaching the room as Louis stepped forward to
try and help her. She felt his fingers pulling at the strings before someone else said something.
"Let me." Came Nessie's voice and a gentle hand Louis stepped back and was
ushered from the room. Marie heard Nessie shut the door before she was behind her again, unlacing the corset with soft yet firm precision.
Soon Marie was undressed and standing in her gloves, drawers, and chemise.
Nessie helped her to the bathroom, where she sat on the edge of the bathtub while Nessie drew a bath and added lavender oil to the water. Marie managed to undress completely and pulled off her gloves just as Nessie stepped out of the bathroom and shut the door to give her privacy. She submerged herself in the bath up to her chin, inhaling the scent of lavender, and tried to calm herself down.
Why had this happened now? Was it because she had seen Matthew again? She thought she had gotten over him; it had been eight years, for goodness sake.
She finally allowed herself to cry as she sat alone in the bath, wet, swollen hands undoing the elaborate roses woven into her hair and allowing it to fall down the back of the tub. Then, she swiftly braided the hair in a bun that sat tightly at the back of her head as tears began to fall.
Hot tears streamed thick down her cheeks, shoulders heaving as sobs wracked her chest. It hurt, oh it hurt. It hurt seeing Matthew again. It broke her, having those memories resurface. Even thinking about it hurt. Her chest ached. Her hands throbbed.
After nearly an hour of crying in the now cold bath, Marie collected her feelings and locked them away in a box in the corner of her mind. Then, finally, she stood, grabbing her dressing gown and pulling on her undergarments. Marie dressed in a muted green gown with long sleeves and a high neck, pulling her leather gloves back on as she did so. Then, she went to the door and grasped the handle, taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment before letting it out again.
Everyone deserved to know what was going on. So she had better explain herself. Marie did the breathing exercise several more times until she was calm and then opened the door to her bedroom.
Nessie stood outside the door, waiting with a tray with several teacups. She smiled gently at Marie and gestured down the hall with her head,
"Everyone is worried about you." She said, and Marie sighed,
"I figured they would be. I'm sure they have questions. Where are they all situated?" She asked, and Nessie turned until she was facing the hallway,
"In the sitting room. I was just bringing them tea. Are you sure you're alright to talk about what happened?" Nessie asked as Marie shut her bedroom door behind her.
"They deserve to know. But, especially Louis, I feel bad for putting him through that."
As soon as Marie and Nessie arrived in the sitting room, all conversation between the men ceased. Marie watched as Nessie set down the tea tray, and Louis began pouring and serving the tea as she took a spot next to Moran. Marie stood awkwardly in the doorway as everyone stared at her. She noticed Albert looked especially concerned and could only imagine what she looked like. Red rimmed and puffy eyes, tear-stained cheeks, hair most likely a mess. She was a disaster.
"How are you, Marie?" He asked, and she shrugged, letting out a bark of harsh laughter.
"Not well at all. But you all deserve an explanation as to my panic, so here I am. And I'm sorry, Louis, for putting you through that." She said and wrung her hands as she took a seat in the only free chair in the room. She ended up with Albert to her left and William to her right. She accepted a cup of tea from Louis with a quiet 'thank you' and cleared her throat.
"Right, where to begin?" She mused, and Moran jumped in,
"How about who was that guy you were talking to at the masquerade? Albert said you both looked like you were about to cry." He said and winced as Nessie smacked his arm,
"Be kind. She's had a rough night." She snapped, and Moran rolled his eyes but didn't say anything else. He was marginally kinder when Nessie was around, so Marie had to be grateful that she kept him in line.
"His name is Matthew Christie. He was my fiancé."
The room was silent before Moran sputtered out a laugh, choking on his mouthful of tea. Nessie and Fred both whacked his arms as William spoke.
"Was? Do we need to worry about this impeding your decision-making?" He asked, and she shook her head,
"We aren't engaged anymore. I swear it won't affect me; it was just jarring seeing him after this long. But, listen, it's best I explain from the beginning how I know him and why I left him in the first place." At Albert's encouraging nod, she took a deep breath.
"I was sixteen years old at the time…."
