Chapter Sixteen: Edward West

"The ignorant mind, with its infinite afflictions, passions, and evils, is rooted in the three poisons: greed, anger, and delusion." ~Bodhidharma

July 1st, 1879

London, England, United Kingdom, Europe

The sun woke Marie that morning. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she stretched her broken hands above her head, groaning in delight as a shiver ran down her spine. Then, sitting up but staying under her covers, she let her hair down from its braid, combing her fingers through to detangle any knots. It was getting long and gray, hanging down to her waist now. A quick glance at the clock showed it was just before eight o'clock in the morning.

Then, flinging her covers back, she swung her feet over the side of the bed and dug her toes into the plush rug on the floor. Finally, after a moment of just soaking up the sun streaming through open curtains, she stood and padded her way to the wardrobe and opened the doors.

Selecting a simple dress with a deep brown skirt and white, long-sleeved top, Marie carried it to her bathroom, where she stripped out of her nightgown and dressed quickly in the dress. She took a brush and ran it through her hair before tying it up in a tight bun. Marie sat on the edge of her bed and was lacing up her boots when there was a knock at the door. She finished tying her shoes and slipped on her gloves before opening the door.

James Bond stood on the other side, a letter in hand. He was dressed in what looked like one of Louis's old suits. Unfortunately, it was a little large around the shoulders, and the trousers were cuffed at the bottom. They'd have to get him some new suits that fit.

He extended the envelope to her, fingers brushing as she took the note from him.

"This came in the post this morning." He explained, and she smiled at him,

"Thank you, James. Let everyone know I'll be right down for breakfast, would you please?" She asked, and he nodded with a smile of his own,

"Of course, I'll see you at breakfast, Miss Dubois." She caught his wrist before he had the chance to leave. She prayed he couldn't feel her broken fingers through her gloves. She'd have to explain to him later about her hands. After all, he was a part of the group now, and she felt he should be privy to that information.

"Please, just call me Marie. I might have gray hair, but I'm not old." James let out a laugh and nodded,

"Alright, I'll see you at breakfast Marie." He said and left.

Marie sat at her desk and took the letter opener to the letter, sliding it underneath the flap of the note and slicing it open. She scanned the contents, recognizing it as Nessie's handwriting. She read it out loud to herself under her breath.

"Dear Marie,

I have met someone that needs your help. I have a letter setting up the meeting, and the required information in one of your dead letter drops located at 410 Buckingham Way. Please hurry, it is urgent.

Sincerely,

Nessie"

Marie set down the letter and looked out the window. Another client. She could always count on Nessie to find more people to help. But she'd have to deal with it after breakfast and discussing it with William. With a shake of her head, she brushed a strand of hair from her face and headed towards the door. As she did so, she left the letter on the desk.

Breakfast was sausage, ham, jam preserves, and bread and butter served with tea. A heavy but straightforward meal to get them through the day. Louis tended to prepare breakfast as Marie was usually up late into the night. Marie would prepare lunch and supper if she wasn't dealing with clients.

"Ah, William?" Marie said, effectively catching the blond's attention. He paused in his meal and looked at her expectantly. "I have a client today. I will possibly be out late, depending on how things go. I'll be heading to Buckingham Way. Is there anything we need while I'm out?" William mulled over the question, glancing to Louis in a silent question. Louis pondered and spoke,

"Bread, if you could pick up a few loaves for dinner tonight, that would be lovely. We don't have time to make it today ourselves." He said, and Marie nodded, standing up to clear her dishes as she finished her meal,

"Alright."

As she turned to leave to head to the kitchen, Albert spoke up.

"Would you like to take the carriage, Marie? Buckingham Way is quite the way from here." She turned and smiled at the brunette.

"I'll be fine. Honestly, I could use the exercise."

Marie was glad she hadn't worn a coat or jacket as she walked the streets of London. It was getting warm in the July heat. Navigating to Buckingham Way wasn't hard—she had instructions from Albert written on a sheet of paper just in case she got lost. But she was confident in her ability to traverse London's confusing roads and sidewalks.

Crossing a street and dodging a carriage, Marie finally made it to Buckingham Way. She walked down the sidewalk, paying acute attention to those around her as she came to a stop by a large brick wall that led into someone's estate. She hadn't bothered to learn who; it didn't matter.

Everyone bustled around her as she reached up and wedged her fingers around a loose brick and pried it from its place. No one noticed. Reaching inside, Marie plucked a letter from the hidden compartment in the wall and replaced the brick. She had dead letter drops like this all over the city, typically meant for clients who couldn't escape to her shop multiple times.

Marie hurried back down the road; she didn't want to be seen loitering about for too long. Then, stepping around a corner and into an alleyway, she unfolded the letter and read its contents.

"The coffee house on 6th Street at noon. The client wishes to remain anonymous until meeting you for safety reasons. ~N"

Marie frowned. Her client wishing to remain anonymous? And for safety reasons? What a bizarre case already. Her wristwatch revealed she had just an hour to get across town and to the coffeehouse on 6th Street.

Maybe she should have taken the carriage.

The coffeehouse on 6th Street was a small and quaint place, a place for commoners to spend their pocket money on a cup of coffee. Marie took a seat and ordered two cups, one for her and one for her client. She reached into the pocket of her dress and withdrew some coins to pay.

The waitress brought the cups of coffee over and took the coins with a smile when she saw the few extra coins left for a tip. Marie smiled back as the woman left, but the smile turned into a frown of apprehension when someone took a seat at her table.

The man had mussed brown hair and dark eyes that were blinking rapidly. He was twisting his hat in his hands, shoulders hunched as if nervous about being there. His suit was rumpled; it looked old. Abruptly she realized that he was a commoner, if not lower than that. He was simply dressed, if not a little dirty. "It's been a while since I've helped a commoner." She mused in the back of her mind and offered what she hoped was a welcoming smile.

"I presume Nessie sent you?" She asked softly so as not to scare the man. He still jumped but nodded hastily,

"Yes, ma'am, my name is Edward West. Nessie said you could help. You are Miss Marie Dubois correct?" He said in a shaky tone, still wringing his hat in his hands. Marie nodded.

"I am. Call me Marie. How can I help?"

Marie reached out a hand, but he flinched away, keeping his hands close to his body. He was shaking now, eyes wide, and pupils were blown as he became more and more nervous.

"Easy now, I'm here to help. Here, have a coffee." She said, adjusting her hands to grasp the extra cup of coffee and push it towards him. He nodded to himself and muttered something under his breath that sounded like "right, she's here to help." before taking the cup, resting his hat in his lap.

Edward took a sip of the coffee, then another, then several more before speaking. Marie had to wonder how he was drinking as much as he was without burning his tongue.

"I-It's my wife. She–" He cut himself off and looked down at his hands, cradling the coffee cup. Marie reached forward tentatively and placed her hand over his,

"It's alright. Take your time." She said, and he nodded, chewing on his lower lip.

"My wife is emotionally and verbally abusive… I know– I know it's not physical abuse, but it's just as bad. So please, please help me." He pleaded, turning his hands over to grasp at hers. She swallowed a whimper of pain as his hold harshly pressed her knuckles together.

Marie gave it a moment's thought before nodding,

"Of course, I'll help. Abuse is abuse. Your experience is valid. Give me a day, and I'll come up with something." She reassured, and his shoulders sagged in relief.

"Thank you! Thank you, Miss Dubois!"

"Edward?" Came a shrill voice, shattering any semblance of peace they may have had. Edward's shoulders tensed, fingers clenched in a hold around Marie's hands. She winced but looked up nonetheless. This must be Mrs. West.

A woman stood over them, hands clenched in fists. She was dressed in a tattered dress of grays and browns, her graying hair swept up and pinned out of her face. Her brown eyes blazed with fury and were locked on Marie and Edward's hands that were still clutching each other.

"This must be your mistress." She snarled, and Marie winced again at the icy tone coating her words. Edward sat shaking, head bowed and refusing to let go of Marie's hands. She couldn't move them an inch; it was like his hands were a vice grip. He didn't deny his wife's words; he didn't say anything.

"Well?!" The woman near shrieked, and Edward flinched again. Marie decided to step in,

"I'm not his mistress. I'm-"

"I wasn't talking to you!" The woman exploded and jabbed a finger towards Marie, who managed not to flinch as the woman stabbed at her nose with a single finger. Edward winced again but raised his head,

"She–she's not my mistress, dearest. She's just a friend!" He attempted to appease the fuming woman, but it did nothing. If anything, it made the woman angrier. Marie could see the veins bulge in her temples and a red flush creep up her neck.

"Don't 'dearest' me. Come on. We are leaving right now! You are going to be in so much trouble when we get home." She hissed and wrapped her fingers around Edward's wrist, squeezing hard enough to where he was forced to let go. Marie caught Edward's panicked gaze and stepped in, wrapping her broken fingers around the woman's wrist and holding on tight, stopping the couple in their tracks.

"Let go of him." She said firmly, and the woman looked appalled as if no one had ever told her no before. Even for a commoner, she was pretentious.

"How dare you!" She gaped, and Marie gave her a sickeningly sweet smile.

"I won't let go. Not until you let go of him. You're hurting him, and you don't want to make a scene, do you?" She said, and the woman paused. Clearly, she hadn't thought this far in advance before barging into the coffeehouse.

However, that was when everything went wrong.

It was almost in slow motion as Marie watched as the woman reached for the scalding hot, half-finished cup of coffee that was initially in front of Edward. Marie raised her hands but was a second too late.

Boiling hot coffee splashed all up and down Marie's front and up onto her face. She let out a cry and collapsed back, knocking her chair over and going crashing to the floor in the process. She vaguely heard Mrs. West dragging Edward away and leaving the coffeehouse before someone was helping her to her feet. It was the woman who had served her coffee in the first place. She was talking, but Marie couldn't hear over the blinding pain.

It hurt. Like the very sun was scorching and melting her skin. It was almost as bad as her hands being broken all over again. She felt someone grasping her arms that weren't burnt by the coffee, leading her away from the scene and towards someplace else.

Soon Marie was sitting in the backroom, several cool washcloths covering her burns as the staff bustled around her. Someone was on the phone behind her, talking in hushed tones to someone on the other line. She caught words like 'burns' and 'assault' but paid no mind as she focused on not passing out from the pain.

The girl behind her hung up and came to sit by Marie's side,

"I called the police. They're on the lookout for Mrs. West now." She said, and

Marie nodded, holding a cool washcloth over her right eye with gloved fingers. A doctor who happened to be in the coffeehouse took a look at Marie's injuries and told her that there would be minimal scarring if she were lucky.

Soon the police were there to take Marie's statement. She gave a heavily edited version of what she and Edward were talking about, playing it out to be two friends meeting up and a jealous wife who could take it no longer; instead of the truth. She couldn't deny that her heart was racing the entire time, thundering in her chest like a thousand horses. However, soon Marie was fit to be sent home and was taken back to the Moriarty estate in a police carriage. They had refused to allow her to walk home despite her protests that she was perfectly fine.

Louis answered the door, his eyes widening when he saw the cloth over her eye and more around her arms, the corner of some peeking out from her dress.

"Oh, dear." was all he said before hurriedly ushering her inside and to her bedroom and into the washroom. On the way, she explained to him what had happened and why she was burned in the first place. Finally, he had her sit on the edge of the bathtub and instructed her to remain there while he left for supplies.

Now alone, Marie took the liberty of stripping out of her coffee-stained dress and changed into fresh undergarments and a new slip. However, before she could change into a new gown, there was a knock at the bathroom door. Instead of Louis coming in with supplies, it was Albert with them. He offered her a kind smile to her shocked expression.

"William needed to speak with Louis after learning the situation. So I figured I'd come help instead. Is that alright?" He asked as he took a seat across from her from the tub. She hastily nodded as she adjusted how her slip sat against her legs. He paid no mind that she was in her slip, a fact that sent her cheeks blazing pink—if Albert noticed that (and he very likely did), he didn't care.

His hands were gentle as he peeled the cool cloths from her forearms and set about applying a burn cream to her arms and to her cheek, where it had already begun blistering and turning red. She winced several times but refused to let herself cry out in pain.

Albert was quick about his work as he gently rubbed the cream into her forearms. However, he stopped once he reached her wrists.

"Some of the coffee seeped under your gloves. May I take them off to make sure there is no damage?" He asked gently, and Marie froze. Take off her gloves? She hadn't taken off her gloves in front of someone else since the incident eight years ago.

She fiddled with the ends of her gloves, mulling it over. Did she trust Albert this much not to run away? To not judge her for the damage to her hands?

The more she thought about it, the more she realized something.

She trusted Albert.

So without any more thinking about it, she reached down and began to peel her gloves from her hands.