Author's note: Thank you to those of you who took the time to review the first chapter. I hope to hear from more people as the story goes along. Now it is time to see how Molly fits into the picture.
Lady Molly Hooper was trapped.
For the paat several days, the heiress to a large fortune had been wondering how she could escape the evil plans of her stepmother, Lady Florence Hooper, who had married Molly's father under false pretenses shortly before his death.
The first Lady Hooper, Molly's mother, had been a nurse who contracted tuberculosis from an infected patient. After Molly watched her mother die a slow and painful death from the disease, the young woman was drawn to studying the human body and researching diseases. Lord Hooper encouraged his daughter, by purchasing books for her about the human body and medicine, but refused to allow her to take up a profession in the medical field, fearing his daughter would also become a victim of the highly contagious diseases that were prevalent in hospitals.
"I'm sorry, my dear." Her father had stood in the drawing room with his arms folded across his chest, frowning. "You are my only child, the last remaining link I have with your mother. I will not allow you to endanger yourself the way your mother did. If I had known the dangers of her continuing to work after we wed, I would have insisted she not work at all."
"But, Papa," Molly had entreated, with a downward turn to her lips, as she reached her hand pleadingly towards his arm. "Mama loved her work. She loved to help people. I wish to make myself useful as she did."
Lord Hooper had been unmoved, as he gave her a stern glance. "Molly, I have indulged your interests, provided you with books and journals on medicine and science, but I could not bear to lose you. I refuse to allow you to risk your life in such a way as your mother did." Then his gaze softened. "Perhaps one day you will marry a man who appreciates your intellect, and you can discuss such things together."
Molly had sighed and capitulated, because she knew her father loved her and wanted what was best for her. Secretly though, she longed to be able to discuss all the things she had learned with someone else. Lord Gerald Hooper was not interested in things of a medical nature. After Molly's mother died, he had taken to long bouts of depression, and had begun to drink heavily, to escape his sorrow.
It was due to his drinking habit that he had found himself married to a schemer named Florence Foster. Somehow she had managed to befriend the lonely Lord Hooper over several weeks and procure a marriage licence as well as the services of a disreputable parson who was willing to marry her to the widower when he was under the influence of alcohol one fateful night. Trying to prove he was married under false pretenses would have caused a scandal, so Lord Hooper had resigned himself to his miserable fate with the woman who had ensnared him.
The new Lady Hooper had made no secret of the fact that she despised Molly. As Lord Hooper's daughter, Florence resented the fact that Molly was entitled to his fortune. Lady Florence Hooper, however, had wanted all the money for herself. She was a gambler, and a grasping socialite who thrived on attention.
Much to the older woman's disappointment, Lord Hooper was uninterested in social gatherings, and Florence found herself unable to attend any of the balls given by the Beau Monde, because her husband refused to attend them himself.
Nonetheless, she managed to procure invitations to other, less formal entertainments and spend Lord Hooper's money in an outrageous manner.
When Lord Hooper had died unexpectedly several months earlier in a carriage accident, the new Lady Hooper was infuriated to discover that his will provided only an annual sum of £2000 for her, and the Hooper mansion in Mayfair. The rest was left in trust to his daughter, access to which she would receive upon her marriage or 25th birthday, whichever came first. To most people, an annual allowance of £2000 would have enabled a person to live in relative comfort for the rest of their life, but this was not good enough for Florence.
So the woman hatched a plan. She had taken a new lover named Charles Magnussen who was a disgraced Swedish former newspaperman.
Molly had overheard a conversation between the two, which caused her distress when the man was visiting Florence secretly a few days earlier.
The drawing room door had been slightly ajar, and Molly had been passing by when she heard her name mentioned.
"That daughter of Gerald's is a constant thorn in my side, my dear Charles. Thanks to her, I was unable to inherit my late husband's fortune," came the voice of Florence. It was interesting how her real voice sounded quite common, rather than in the more refined manner in which she spoke in public company. Molly heard the sly note in her stepmother's voice as she continued. "However, I have an idea of how I can get the money."
"My dear Florence, do tell," came the light, accented baritone of the Swede. Molly thought his voice had an oily sound to it.
"As you know, I am legally the chit's guardian. That means I can control her until she marries, or, until she turns five and twenty. After that, I will no longer have access to her or her fortune. Her birthday approaches, mere weeks away. Therefore I have determined my only recourse is to see that she marries someone who would then take control of her fortune."
There was a dry note in Magnusson's voice as he responded. "I suppose you are asking me to fill the position as suitor for the girl's hand?"
Molly listened with dread as the conversation continued.
"Of course, darling. Once you are married, we will have access to her money. We can then arrange a little 'accident' to befall her and you can marry me instead. All that lovely money will be ours." Molly shuddered in the shadows as she listened to the greedy note in her stepmother's voice.
Magnussen gave an evil chuckle. "A nefarious plan indeed, my love. I like the way you think. So how do we enact this plan?"
"Easily. I already have the same parson available who married me to the little chit's father. Culverton Smith will do anything if you grease his palm with enough money," came the confident response.
"And how shall we convince your stepdaughter to marry me?" inquired the man, and Molly bit her lip so hard she almost drew blood.
"I have already told her we are going to take a holiday to Dover. Culverton Smith has a small parish near there; it is where I married Gerald. You will meet her by chance, throw a few flowery compliments her way, woo her and propose." Molly's face drained of color when she heard the next words. "If she refuses to marry you, we will just kidnap her and take her to the church. I have access to certain medicines that will prevent her from causing any trouble."
"Ah, my sweet love, you are brilliant. Let us celebrate our wealthy future. Kiss me."
Molly heard the sounds of unmistakable kissing and murmurs between the couple and hurried upstairs to her bedroom, feeling revulsion and horror over what she had overheard. She thought despairingly that she would be trapped. She could not run away. She had no money of her own. Florence had been telling the truth to Magnussen. She was Molly's legal guardian now and the only one with access to the late Lord Hooper's money.
Unable to formulate a plan of escape, Molly found herself now in Dover at the finest inn available, The Fox. Earlier, her stepmother had contrived a "chance" meeting with an "old friend" named Charles Magnussen.
"Oh, Charles, my dear," Florence had exclaimed upon seeing the new arrival at the inn. "What a lovely surprise to see you in Dover."
Charles had bowed before kissing the woman's hand. "I am delighted to see you too." Then he looked with what Molly considered a dead-eyed stare that disgusted her. His voice was pleasant however, as he said, "And who is this charming young lady?"
"Oh, it is my stepdaughter, Lady Molly. Isn't she just lovely?" simpered Florence, as Molly cringed.
When Magnussen reached out to touch Molly's hand, she had to prevent herself from shuddering at the revulsion she felt at his clammy touch. "Very pleased to meet you, Lady Molly. I would very much like to get to know you better. Perhaps we could dine together this evening?"
Molly gulped, but before she could say anything, Florence cut in, with an ingratiating smile. "Oh, Charles, that would be lovely. Please do join us here at seven."
Magnussen's smile did not reach his eyes. "I shall indeed be glad to do so." He offered a slight bow to the ladies and left. Even as he did so, Molly could feel the net tightening around her. Her stepmother's plan had begun.
That evening, the women had just been seated at a table when Charles arrived. Florence had instructed Molly to be gracious to the man, saying he was a dear, dear friend who had unfortunately come upon hard times. Molly wondered how her stepmother could think she was completely ignorant of the fact that the two of them were lovers. Then again, Lady Florence herself was of limited intelligence, quite unable to see past her own schemes. Of course, those schemes had still enabled the woman to succeed thus far.
As the three dined together, Charles Magnussen complimented Molly on numerous occasions, attempting to flirt with her. When he was not attempting to do so, he was holding lively conversation with her stepmother. It was during one of these times, when the man was thus distracted, that Molly noticed another man entering the dining room to sit at a table close by.
Molly drew in her breath. She had never seen a more handsome man. Actually, to be honest, she had limited experience with men in general. She had attended several balls as a debutante a few years earlier, but all of the men her age seemed rather vain and not overly intelligent. They kept their hair pulled back into the neat ponytail that was the fashion for men and wore clothes that showed them to be tulips of fashion, more concerned with appearance than anything else.
The man she saw at the next table, while well dressed, did not come across as someone who was overly concerned with appearance. In fact, he looked most unfashionable. His dark hair curled riotously around his head and locks fell upon his forehead in what Molly thought was a most endearing manner. No ponytail pulled his hair into order. She was sure he was a gentleman, though. He had high, aristocratic cheekbones and full lips. He also looked around the room as if the people within were somewhat beneath his notice. Yes, he is definitely titled, she thought.
She noticed out of the corner of her eye a blonde-haired man coming over to stand beside the handsome man. Without really meaning to, she shut out the buzz of conversation between her two companions, who were laughing over some shared adventure, straining to hear instead what was going on at the other table.
At first their voices were too low to be overheard. Then Molly almost jumped as the curly-haired man slammed a fist on his table.
"...Damn! We cannot tarry any longer, waiting for him to get well. I suppose the only thing we shall be able to do is look for a local lad this evening to fill the cabin boy position." Molly peeked at the handsome man from the corner of her eye and watched as he ran a hand through that magnificent mop of curls. "See if you can find someone who does not suffer from seasickness and is an experienced sailor. There must be someone here who can come with us. Offer him one hundred pounds."
Even as she listened, while her gaze refocussed on her companions and she kept a smile plastered on her face, Molly's brain began to whirl. For the first time she had an idea about how she might escape the evil plan concocted by her stepmother.
Author's note 2: So Here we are, a little backstory for Molly. Doesn't her stepmother sound nasty?
Are you looking forward to seeing what she does next?