Three

Sitting down at her vanity, Marisa looked at herself carefully in the mirror, examining her features. There was a slight bruise low on her cheek and the split lip looked angry, red and raw. She poked at it lightly with her fingertips, her Monkey sitting on the vanity and watching her intensely. From the corner of her eye, she could see Edward making his way back into their bedroom; stopping at the sight of her in the mirror.

She looked at him through the reflection of the mirror, watching as his eyes traced over her features, almost smirking when she sees him cringe as he lingers on the split lip. Guilt is plain on his face and he looks away quickly, adjusting his suit and Marisa decides she can't let him get away that easily. So she turns on the velvet stool, hair not yet done and pooling around her face and shoulders, framing her features beautifully as she looks up at him.

"Edward," she calls out to him, low and soft, a tone of hesitance in her voice.

She watches Edward tense with a thrill before he turns to look at her. Her eyes are wide and her head is tilted slightly, her Monkey sitting mildly behind her, head cast down. She knows she looks the picture of an innocent, soft wife putting herself below her husband. It is not a position she is used to taking with Edward but it is necessary. She'd slipped the night before and she'd seen the realisation in Edward's eyes; she needed to draw him back in, lull him back into a false sense of security.

"Yes?" Edward replied evenly, looking at the mirror behind her. The fact he could not look her in the eye pleased her beyond belief. He was feeling guilty, his action the previous night was haunting him and Marisa couldn't believe how perfectly everything had happened. It had taken all her restraint not to rejoice.

Her hands came together on her lap, clasping together gently, fingers fiddling with her wedding bands. She took a breath, glancing up at him through her lashes as she finally spoke.

"I'm sorry about last night," Marisa told him sedately, "I should never have spoken to you that way," she continued, letting out a sigh. Her eyes were on his face and she could see the conflict he was having; it had always been far too easy to manipulate Edward.

Edward huffed uncomfortably. Apparently, his wife apologising after he'd struck her, was not sitting well with him. Marisa had predicted as much, which was exactly why she was doing it. If he was going to strike her, she was going to summon every ounce of guilt out of him that she could.

"Don't, Marisa," Edward replied carefully, taking a few steps closer to her, his eyes widening in alarm as Marisa deliberately tensed at his physical presence.

Visalia squawked, fluttering around to perch on the opposite side of the room. Her Monkey's beady black eyes watched intensely, teeth baring slightly as Edward moved closer.

"Please, don't apologise. It...it was a tough day yesterday. I never should've acted the way I did either," he murmured, moving to sit down on the stool beside her.

Marisa pressed her lips together, looking away from him as he sat, brows furrowing a little, wondering what he'd do. She was surprised when his hand came up to gently cup her cheek, thumb smoothing lightly over the cut on her bottom lip. The touch almost made her jump, her eyes finding his with curiosity, wondering just what he thought he was doing.

" I am sorry, Marisa," he whispered to her, his eyes finding hers for the first time since he'd walked into their bedroom. Although, what he was sorry for he dared not say out loud.

A deliberate sigh left her, a hand coming up to wrap around his, still holding her cheek. "It's okay," she whispered, voice velvety smooth as she leant into him, pressing her lips to his in a lingering kiss. "I forgive you," she murmured as she pulled back, a single finger stroking down his cheek gently.

She ignored the sneer on the Golden Monkey's face as she pulled away from Edward and turned back towards the mirror. In her peripheral, she saw him stand up and smooth out his suit, moving towards their closet, no doubt in search of a tie. She turned her head, to glance over her shoulder at him as she spoke.

"It is lucky I have no engagements today," she calls to him, voice sweet and musical, as if they were talking about something trivial. "Don't you think?"

Edward freezes for only a moment in the threshold of the walk-in wardrobe and Marisa grins wildly at his back. He exhales and continues on, ignoring Marisa. It is all amusing to Marisa and she has to remind herself that she couldn't get swept up in the pleasure of playing these games with Edward.

If she got reckless or careless, it would be the end of her.

Marisa spent the morning going over her research notes, thankful that Edward was back to work. She'd spent the days between giving birth and attending the funeral doing basically nothing. It had been the hardest few days of her life; she was never not doing something and even more so when she'd felt she was so close to a break in her research. If only she had access to Asriel's books and notes. She sighed, pushing the thought away. She couldn't think about Asriel, it would only lead to her longing to see her lover and their child.

Her mind had also been on how she could use Edward's act against him. He'd given her an almost perfect gift to destroy his reputation and standing with; her only problem was how to make it known. She supposed she could go out but that felt like an almost too deliberate act.

She sighed, sipping her chocolatl when an idea dawned on her and for once, her Monkey seemed as on board with the idea as she was. With a grin, she sent off a telegram, inviting Mrs. Sharpton to afternoon tea, that very afternoon.

The door bell rings and Marisa takes a breath, arranging her hair around her face just so , exhaling before smiling gently. She turns and heads towards the front door, pulling it open slowly, head turned to the side to apparently hide her split lip. The Golden Monkey is sitting sedately by her feet, looking curiously at Mrs. Sharpton's daemon.

"Mrs. Sharpton, hello," Marisa greets gently, looking at the other woman for only a moment before glancing down again and stepping aside, to let her guest in.

"Marisa, dear. Thank you for the invitation. I wasn't sure if you would be seeing people but I'm glad to be able to check up on you after yesterday," Mrs. Sharpton replied thoughtfully, she and her daemon stepping inside.

Marisa closed the door behind her before turning to face her properly, lips pressed together as the older woman turns to look at her fully. She bites the inside of her lip as she see's Mrs. Sharpton's eyes go wide, no doubt noticing her lip for the first time. She prepares herself for a barrage of questions as she takes the other woman's coat and hangs it up but is surprised when the other politician's wife, says nothing.

"Shall we have some tea?" Marisa suggests softly, leading the other woman into the sitting room where the tea is already set up. "I wanted to say thank you for yesterday. You were...so kind," Marisa tells her, giving her a sweet smile. "It was a terribly hard day. For the both of us."

She picks up the teapot and pours out both their drinks, three sugars in her own and milk in Mrs. Sharpton's. She hands it over delicately as she sits down on the same couch as Mrs. Sharpton, her Golden Monkey curled around her feet, almost as if he's hiding from the other woman. Marisa resists the urge to smirk at how perfectly he is playing it.

"I can't even imagine ," Mrs. Sharpton replies after taking a sip of her tea. "And at such a young age… But, you have many more child bearing years ahead of you," she continued and Marisa nodded, smiling as if she was grateful for the words.

She took a sip of her tea, wincing a little as the hot water stung at her lip, something she hadn't planned. She swallowed, then placed the tea down; she could sense Mrs. Sharpton watching her.

"What happened dear?" Mrs. Sharpton asked softly, after a moment. Her own tea was placed down on the table and she was watching Marisa hawkishly. It was clear the other woman was talking about her lip and Marisa turned to her, giving her a small smile, shaking her head.

"Like I said, it was a hard day for us," Marisa told her, fingers spinning her wedding bands as she looked away from Mrs. Sharpton, letting the older woman draw her own conclusions. She heard a sharp intake of breath from the other woman and knew immediately that she'd hooked her.

"Marisa, dear. Did...Edward do that to you?" Mrs. Sharpton asked carefully, curiously.

Marisa took a moment, as if she was thinking about it, before turning to look at Mrs. Sharpton properly. Her eyes found the other woman's, grateful for her ability to cry on cue as tears pooled in her eyes. She nodded slowly, as if she was ashamed by the whole debacle.

"Yes," Marisa whispered, hands pressing together as if in worry. The most perfect thing about it, was that she wasn't even lying. She shook her head then, as she looked back up at Mrs. Sharpton. "But...it wasn't really his fault. The stress and grief-" she started, but her guest cut her off.

"Nonsense, Marisa. That is no excuse," Mrs. Sharpton insisted, her brows furrowed and her cheeks ruddy as she reached a hand out to take Marisa's, giving it a squeeze. "You are grieving too! You just buried your baby…"

"I know. But he apologised, Mrs. Sharpton. I know he didn't want to hurt me," Marisa told her, voice light and high, trying to sound as innocent as she could.

"Has he done this before, dear?" Mrs. Sharpton asked, frowning as she kept a hold of Marisa's hand, as some sort of gesture of comfort.

"Well…" Marisa glanced away, lips pressed together for only a moment before letting out a slight chuckle. She glanced back over at Mrs. Sharpton, the tears she'd conjured spilling only a few at a time. "I was married so young, you know? I suppose I didn't know any better," Marisa murmured to the other woman, all but saying what she wanted to hear, the implication clear; though it was a lie.

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Sharpton exclaimed lowly, shaking her head and pulling Marisa into a hug. She tensed at first, not used to someone else initiating such contact, but relaxed into it. She knew Mrs. Sharpton had been the perfect person to reveal this to. She had no doubt that by the end of the week, this little bit of gossip would be all over London society.

A person's reputation in this world was the only thing they had and Edward's was about to be in shambles.

The next two weeks of Marisa's life seemed to move along as if in a blur. Edward's indiscretion spread through their circle of friends quickly, Anthony Sharpton and his wife taking full advantage of her supposed situation, just as she expected they would. The King's Advisor was supposed to be a man of impeccable morals and values; murmurs of him being violent and possessive were damaging in the most delicious of ways.

The tension had sky-rocketed in the Coulter home and Marisa had never felt more in control. Even more so with what she'd just set in motion.

"Marisa! What have you done ?!" Edward bellowed as he strode through their home, heading straight for the parlour where he assumed she would be.

As he turned into the parlour, Marisa could see that he was angry but his anger quickly dissipated to shock and Marisa had to hide her smirk. Beside her, Mr. and Mrs. Sharpton and on the other side, a Magisterium Inquisitor and Father MacPhail. She turned her eyes downward, inhaling sharply as she pressed her hands together, putting on a show for their four guests.

Mrs. Sharpton reached out to settle a hand on her back, rubbing encouragingly and Marisa sighed before lifting her head, to finally look her husband in the eyes. He looked furious but confused, though he was trying his best to calm himself. It delighted Marisa that Edward had helped bury himself so wonderfully, she had never expected him to actually hit her. The whole thing had fallen perfectly into place; it was almost too good to be true.

It was clear that their guests were for a very specific reason and Edward felt sick at the knowledge that they thought he harmed his wife; that he wasn't fit for his position. Though it may have been the wrong thing to think of, in the moment, the thought of losing his position as King's Advisor worried him more than anything else. Marisa and his marriage were merely beyond saving, he could see that now.

"Edward," Marisa started, her voice light and sweet. Her eyes met his and she kept her expression worried and cautious. "I haven't done anything ," she told him, shaking her head a little. She pressed her lips together in a picture of nervousness and turned to glance at the Sharpton's, who looked at her encouragingly. She had to admire their willingness to manipulate marital discord for their own purposes. If she weren't manipulating them right back, she might've courted with the idea of befriending them for real.

"Edward, I think it's best you sit down," Mr. Anthony Sharpton suggested, taking a step forward and engaging with Edward as if he was an old friend, simply there to help.

A thunderous expression crossed her husband's features and she held her breath, wondering if her husband would do something stupid. She hoped he would, if only to make her case against him stronger. But, Edward was smart, it was one of the reasons he had appealed to her so much. Unfortunately, he nodded stoically and with a quiet huff, sat down on the armchair opposite Marisa.

"What is going on?" He asked, flicking his gaze around the people in the room before settling on Marisa, his brows furrowed as he tried to figure out what she was playing at.

Instead of Marisa answering however, it was Father MacPhail that spoke. He looked considerably unimpressed by being there and by the whole situation. Marisa wasn't sure if he always looked that way or if it was just being there, in their home.

"It has come to the Magisterium's attention, that an incidence of violence has occurred, within the home," MacPhail spoke stolidly, keeping his expression unmoved. "Considering your position, we thought it best to undertake this as quietly as possible."

Marisa ducked her head once again, her hands in her lap and her fingers twisting her wedding bands in a nervous gesture that everyone in the room could see. Mrs. Sharpton's hand fell to her forearm then, giving a gentle squeeze that Marisa knew was supposed to be reassuring. Her Golden Monkey sat on the back of the couch, as if hiding away, peaking out over her shoulder in a faux pose of nervousness.

Edward shook his head. "That's not what happened," Edward insisted, brows furrowed and a spark of panic in his eyes.

"Well," Marisa interrupted, before he could say anything else. "That's not exactly true Edward," she continued, sounding almost indignant as her voice wobbled only slightly.

"Marisa," Edward breathed, shifting in his seat, angry and uncomfortable. Being questioned in his own home did not sit well with him, especially when his viper of a wife was at the centre of it.

"Don't lie, Edward. You did hit me," Marisa insisted, her voice swelling with emotion. She glanced at Mrs. Sharpton for a moment before turning back towards Edward. "I had the mark of it for days," she continued, lifting her hand up and fingers lightly ghosting over her bottom lip. It was almost completely healed now, if a little tender still.

Tears pooled in her eyes, her lips trembled slightly, her breathing was deliberately fast.

Marisa was a picture of upset and Edward didn't know what to do. His gaze moved around the room, shame overcoming him as he looked towards Mr. and Mrs. Sharpton and worry engulfing him as he looked towards Father MacPhail and the Magisterium officer. The feeling of dread that had settled in the pit of his stomach from the moment Marisa had turned to him after he'd hit her, had come back full force.

"Marisa...you know how sorry I am," Edward told her, wanting to save some kind of face. It didn't occur to him that he'd just admitted his guilt. "We had just buried our child! I wasn't thinking clearly."

But Marisa simply shook her head, lips pressing together for a moment to hide the smile that threatened to bloom across her features. She glanced over at Father MacPhail then, who still looked undeterred and expressionless. Though, he noticed, MacPhail did sigh.

"Mr. Coulter, grief is a powerful thing we understand. However, this accusation is very serious and the Magisterium takes these matters very seriously too. Which is why we will be conducting this...investigation for your wife's petition thoroughly," MacPhail told him seriously, what seemed to be disappointment and disapproval in his eyes.

Edward frowned, glancing between MacPhail and Marisa. "Petition?" He asked, his body suddenly tense.

Marisa nodded hesitantly, inhaling then exhaling as she found his eyes again, her expression one of upset. "Yes. I've petitioned the Church for a divorce," Marisa told him softly, as if she were worried and scared about what he'd do.

This hadn't been her original plan but his anger had presented an even better opportunity to rid herself of him. One that she wasn't going to squander. Her new life with Asriel and Lyra were waiting for her and she was almost giddy with the anticipation. Soon, Edward would be out of her life forever and he wouldn't have the power anymore to do anything about it.