"I saw that," Cain whispered behind her left ear, before handing her a mallet and guiding her immediately to the opposite arena of the games course.
"Saw what?" Verushka's heart jumped as she turned to face the duke, clad in olive trousers and a jade waistcoat, fastened with gold cufflinks and pearlescent buttons that mocked the skin beneath. There was no denying that the trim lines and expensive cloth were cut expressly for him, but they did not match the ferocity in his eyes. Verushka maintained as innocent an expression as possible and looked passed the paisley cravat to the man she suspected crouched waiting within. She eyed him warily before accepting her mallet, if only as a possible means of defence.
A smile coaxed the corner of Cain's lips and he gave into the grin that followed. "The Marchioness of Derby seems quite taken with you, and I have it on excellent authority that she is never taken with anyone. It seems that you are falling into the role of a ward with rather more ease that I had imagined."
Verushka's brow furrowed. "Did you imagine that I would simply fall?"
Cain tilted his head in thought and assessed his maid with care. "Falter perhaps, but never fall."
"Hmmph," she huffed unimpressed in his direction before angling her mallet to thrust the opening ball laid out. With a gentle swing back and forth Verushka could feel the duke's eyes burn into her back, goading the fire in her own belly like a poker in coals. Her ball flew wide of its mark for the first time that afternoon and she watched it roll into a bunker as disloyal as a soldier in retreat.
"I think you will find that scowling at the instruments of the game will not help," Cain smirked quietly. "So, what exactly did you say to the Ice Queen to defrost her heart?"
Verushka turned to him, placing her hands on her hips in annoyance. "You will find that many people are enamoured of my company simply because I am a friendly person."
"Yet, you are not friendly to me," Cain countered smoothly.
"Well, no," she wavered, "but I surmise that is only because you and I have very different ideas about what constitutes 'friendly' behaviour."
It was Cain's turn to feign innocence. "I can't imagine what you mean, Miss Wyvernstone."
"Oh pulease," Verushka rolled her eyes. "I bet you were plenty 'friendly' with Zarina."
"Zarina?" he arched a brow in question.
"You heard me, mister," she bit back as she ploughed towards her wayward ball.
"Woah, woah," Cain reached for her hand as they slipped over the ridge, out of the sight of the rest of the assembled ton.
"Are you talking about the actress?" Cain remarked, intrigued. "How could you possibly know about her?" he turned Verushka back to face him with a flick of his wrist.
Verushka simply chose to glare at him in silent fury.
A grin crept over Cain's face as he recognised the delicious shade of jealousy that complemented her sage gown with its delicate scalloped trim. "Verushka, darling, don't let her worry you. I assure you that I have not reconciled with Zarina in some weeks now, since before we met."
Verushka huffed and twisted her arm free again with apparent ease. "I can't honestly say that I care who you choose to warm your bed." She tried to ignore the smirk on her ex-employers face as she focused on the trail of a heavy ball through a sandy ditch. "Ahah!" she exclaimed as she spotted the bright blue lacquer peeping out from under a hedge.
"Of course you don't, particularly since you turned down that opportunity yourself." Cain followed her as she hastened after her ball.
"Argh!" Verushka swung about enraged. "I have had it up to here with you," she barked indicating the level of her eyes. "What do you want from me? Is it a game to seduce the help, because you may as well stop since you won't succeed there." Her heart twinged a little at the pinch of a lie but she continued on. "Everyone, including your friend, Jacob has made the transition into welcoming me as a debutant but you still treat me as you always have- a servant." She didn't know what her brother had said to explain her sudden elevation to society but he assured her that the matter was dealt with.
Cain's eyes narrowed at the insinuation that he was in some way without honour. It was perhaps the highest level of sin amongst the genteel class and the accusation did not sit well with him. It was not long ago that he sat in his friend's study watching the early light of dawn and discussing the passage of Verushka's transformation. The meeting had gotten off to a dismal start,
"What is this farce about my maid being your ward, Jay?" he had demanded upon entrance.
"Please come in, Cain. Would you care for some brandy?" his host offered facetiously.
"No! Of course I would not care for a brandy. What are you up to with MY maid?"
"I think you will find that she is no longer your maid, Cain."
"Don't mince words with me Jacob. I have known you too long for that. Now tell me truly what this is about, or so help me, I will not play along as quietly as I did last night," Cain warned, clutching at the unruly reins of his temper.
Jay raised a brow in surprise. "I don't believe I have seen this side of you before."
Cain clenched his jaw, grinding the edges of his own teeth in anger. "Pray you don't ever again."
Jay nodded in answer before taking a seat at his wide ironwood desk. "Verushka has agreed to help me with a little problem that I have been having. In exchange I have offered her the protection and fortunes of the Wyvernstone name."
"What problem requires her special touch, and for such an exorbitant reward?" Cain inquired warily.
Jay took a deep breath and leaned forward, creaking the smooth and polished leather of his chair. "What I am about to say to you cannot leave this room. I only confide this in you because you are my oldest friend, and there is no man I trust more with my confidences, so you must swear never to utter that which I am to share with you today."
Cain remained silent, but inclined his head slightly as a means of agreement.
Tension visible coiled through Jay before he spoke, like a spring pressurised before release. The muscles of his arm tightened and he laid his palms flat on the desk as an outlet for his energy as he stood. "I am an Agent for Her Majesty's Secret Service."
Cain leaned back against the upholstery of his own chair and examined his nails at leisure. "It's about time you told me."
"What?" Jay snarled.
"You heard me, Jay. What took you so long?" Cain offered his old friend a cheeky smile.
Jay took several fortifying breaths before speaking. "How long have you known?"
"A few years at least."
"How?"
"It required more digging than I thought it would take for the Governor for the Home Office of Her Majesty's Secret Service. You must be a very well concealed man, Jacob."
"You, are the Governor." Jay stated incredulously.
"Yeah, sometimes it surprises me too," a half laugh escaped his lips. "I wouldn't worry though, I have never had much to do with the War Office where your department resides, which is probably why it was so hard to track down your details. I've been waiting for you to decide to confide in me for some time."
Jay slowly descended into his chair once more. "I'm afraid I am just going to need a moment to process this."
Cain watched him pour a large glass of brandy and sip at the contents for several minutes before proceeding. "What has all of this got to do with Verushka?" he betrayed more emotion in his voice than he had wished.
"You don't already know, then?" Jay's eyes met his with a sharp slice.
"No. But I would appreciate it if you would enlighten me."
"I don't think that I can," Jay frowned in deep and perplexing thought. "I will tell you this though, she is more than a maid but less than a spy. I have not asked her to do anything that she has not already committed to of her own free and tempestuous will. In fact, I get the feeling that she is running circles around me instead."
"You can't or won't tell me?" Cain pushed pointedly.
"Can't. You know how this works Cain, it is not my place. If you have issues with how this is run then you need to take it up with the Director." Jay advised and Cain noted that his friend then watched him with a rather suspicious gaze as if he was waiting for him to say something further.
Cain exhaled slowly and stared out of the window as he watched the staff prepare the outdoor arena for the day ahead. They bustled between the stables and the house, furious in their commitment to their tasks. He had to acknowledge that a servant's life was brutally harsh and often unrewarding but the life of a spy among the ton was a chaotic dance between danger and discovery. It was not a life he would have wished for a woman he was growing to love.
"You will keep her safe, won't you?" Cain ventured.
"Of course, but in the short time I have known Verushka she is a headstrong creature who takes the safety of herself into her own hands. I find her-."
"Infuriating?" Cain supplied.
"Incorrigible." Jay hid a grin with his glass.
"And yet she makes me want to wring my hands with wanting," Cain exhaled in exasperation.
"Then I suggest you keep your hands to yourself," Jay warned with a brush of brotherly steel in his suggestion.
Cain stared into Verushka's obstinate eyes and drew near her body, taut with anger. "I treat you the same now as I did when you were a servant because I treated you then as the lady that you are now. I have always afforded you compassion and candor because I have always seen you as an equal and always will."
He cupped her rounded cheek with his palm and swept the flat of his thumb over the full curve of her lower lip. "Nothing has changed Verushka, because I adored you then, just as I adore you now."
Verushka blinked in rapid succession and willed the fog to lift from her brain made idle by the promise of love. "You wanted me as your mistress."
"I don't pretend to have had a puritanical past. It is an offer I have made to ladies of the ton as well as maids," he acknowledged but had the decency to look a little jaded.
"So the same for everyone then?" Verushka accused.
"Listen Ver, I wanted you. I still want you. Perhaps I was foolish to think that I could barter for your affections with trinkets and books that appealed to so many widows and actresses who I have known. I see now that you are not willing to bend to such trifles... well, maybe books." His eyes met the light in hers and she conceded a half smile.
"Just because we can go through life alone, doesn't mean that we should. I am not asking you to entwine your existence with mine when the whole world of the ton is now at your feet, but I do hope that you will remember how we felt together, in the rain, in each other's arms. The little I know of you has left me wanting more and the little you know of me has been the most real I have been with any other soul on earth."
Verushka fought with the demons of her own fears. The pressures and secrets of her other life that beat incessantly at the door of her mind with others, went silent in this man's presence. She could bask in the warmth of his glow and forget about all the rigours of duty. It was a thought which both excited and terrified her.
He seemed to speak sense but before she could compute his words he was always pushing further in, crowding her with his sweetened breath from freshly picked wine, touching her with deft caressing fingers and she began to wonder- what if? What if she let him in? What if she finally let him see beyond the mask of perfection she thought she had to be? What if he didn't love who she truly was in the quiet of the pantry... what if he did?
Part of the reason the Duchess had chosen her was that she made friends easily. As soon as people saw her they admired and loved her because they saw what they wanted to see. She showed them only the reflection of those things that they desired and no one, except Liara and Mina, had seen or loved the real Verushka. She barely knew who that girl was herself, she barely knew if she liked that girl. It was a soul shaking concept to share her real self with a man who stole her breath.
But, wasn't he just the same, playing the Dandy to the ton at large because perhaps that is what he thought they wanted. They accepted, petted and coveted the foolish fop that he was with them, but with her he spoke in soft whispers full of earnest promises. He had read to his maid with a deep thrumming energy when anxiety and anger has stolen sleep, and beneath the layers of patterned cloth his soul had reached out and caressed hers.
She looked up into un-trekked forest of his eyes and took one hesitant step towards him. She pulled through all the strings of duty, through the cacophony of obligations calling her name over the heritage of a bloodline singing in her ears. She crossed the distance into his arms and the world went quiet at his touch.
Silence.
Blissfully serene, silence, which to a mind that constantly whirred felt a lot like heaven.
He smoothed her brow and laid a kiss at her temple, whispering her name under his breath. His palms found the rounded swells of her cheeks and slipped down around her shoulders to lace together behind her back. She felt him smile; felt it before she saw it. A smile from the Duke of Bexley was a truly radiant thing and she had grown accustomed to its appearance like the sun slipping out from behind a cloud. Verushka basked in the warm glow of his exultation and before she had the opportunity to second guess her actions his lips touched hers beneath a cloudless sky.
To Cain it felt as if it had been years since he had had the pleasure of her embrace, not weeks, and certainly not days. So, when he kissed his maid, he did it with all the yearning in his heart. He had once attended the first Roman Catholic ceremony following the period of Lent during his time in the nation's capital. The moment when those present took their first sip of wine in forty days was painted onto his memory with the same brush that illuminated the Sistine Chapel. The man before him had grasped the golden chalice with reverence, placed his lips at the rim of the goblet and paused to inhale the spicy mixture of berries and cloves. When the burgundy liquid flowed forth, he closed his eyes, tilted back his head and sighed with satiation.
Cain sipped at Verushka like fine wine. He drank deeply at her lips, savouring the subtle scent of her floral perfume that laced her cool flesh. His tongue swept forward to taste the earthy remnants of tea bathed in cream that softened her delicate palate. Cain closed his eyes to the sights and sounds of the game or the distant crowds and drew her in, just as she had captured him. His hands cupped her face and every sense was devoted to the exploration of her mouth.
Verushka's mind was blank as a page before it met ink. Sensation had boiled down to the curious and breathtaking sensation of his tongues caress of hers. Somehow her fingers had found their way into his golden hair as he laved the corner of her mouth. She thought at one point she might have moaned and would have disregarded such an absurdity except that it pre-empted another knowing occurrence of his smiles. Verushka was of half a mind to tell him to stop being so annoyingly cavalier however he chose that moment to press his hips against hers and the thought slid out of sight faster than water down an unclogged pipe.
Minutes could have turned into hours and she would not have known. Days could have passed into night and she would still have existed only in the Duke's embrace. Had she the power of rational thought, she would have considered it worrisome, however she had no such concerns. Only when deep kisses turned gradually into soft brushes of his lips did she notice that he had enveloped her wandering hands in his own and held them gently in the space she had occupied moments before.
It took her several moments and a series of rapid blinking to remember such basic information that came naturally to most. Verushka mentally tallied her age, followed by the date, then her name while Cain watched with amused adoration. It was hard to believe that he stood in the presence of a spy and he wondered at the truth of the information he had received from Jay. There seemed to be no reason for him to lie but there were far too many unanswered questions. Why use an unskilled maid? Why use Verushka in particular? And what exactly did his mother get out of all of this?
As Verushka shook the lingering lust from her limbs Cain's stomach churned, rebelling at the notion of sending her into the battle that constantly surrounded the Crown with little more than her charms to arm her. It may not have been a matter for the Home Office but Cain could not leave her to the wolves of the War. He cradled her arm in his own and winked with a resolve that bit hard at the soft smile in his eyes. "Come, we should be getting back."
He decided that while he would not openly involve himself with foreign affairs of State, it surely could not hurt to linger and watch.
"Cain wait," Verushka halted pulling him back into the shadowed branches of a fir tree.
"What is it, darling?" he smoothed a frayed ringlet back into place.
"We can't go back," Verushka informed him resolutely.
Cain could not help but grin. "I know, Ver. I feel the same, but we must."
Verushka groaned with annoyance and looked to the heavens for a moment's fortitude. "Don't be mad. You look like a large bird just nested in your hair. At least make yourself decent before we return."
Cain's grin grew wider. "I think you will find it takes quite a lot to make me 'decent.'"
"Ugh, you are mad," Verushka patted the creases from her dress and avoided his eyes that twinkled with illicit afternoon embraces.
He tilted her dimpled chin up with a forefinger and smiled. "Only for you."
A horn sounded in the distance indicating the end of the afternoon's games and the heavy cavernous echo brought with it the concerns of daily life. Verushka took a step back away from the lingering heat of his touch and rubbed at her arms as the sun slipped behind a passing cloud. "What is going on here, Cain?"
"What do you mean?" The duke offered her a lopsided grin.
"You know what I mean," she countered quickly before his gaiety led her astray.
The façade fell from Cain's face. He knew what she meant, he just didn't know what it meant for them. "I adore you, Verushka. Over the past month I have come to care for you in a way that I have not felt for anyone else."
"Not even Zarina?" she interjected with an arch brow.
"Especially not Zarina," he answered, the corner of his lips curving suspiciously upward. "However, there is something which I must tell you and it is a truth that I have been avoiding for some time now."
Verushka drew closer to him once more, intrigued as his voice dipped into the hushed whisper of a secret. "Yes?"
"I must marry." All traces of amusement had been washed from the duke's face leaving only the sandy bed of solemnity in its place. "The Queen has commanded it of me."
Verushka's heart skipped a beat before crashing in waves at her pulse. Surely he wasn't proposing? Surely she was dreaming? Things like this only happened in fairy-tales, and she was no Cinderella to be pulled from the pantry and made into a princess.
Cain reached forth and grasped her hand, entwining her coarsened fingers with his own. "I'm sorry, Verushka. If I had to choose it any other way then I would choose you, but the fate of my marriage will be chosen by our Queen."
For a moment Verushka couldn't breathe. It was like the air could not escape from her lungs and sat in her chest growing stale with regret. It was not as if she really thought she could marry the duke. Those were the dreams of young girls, not women who were independent and free, but in the corner of her heart she yearned for a little of the fairy-tale too.
"Why?" she tried to keep the tremor from her voice but the question had to be asked.
"I am not certain why Victoria has taken an interest in my marriage, but it must be for a political agenda. She would not ask this of me, I think, unless it was of dire importance. Perhaps, at one time in history the sovereign had far more to do with aligning countries by the marriage of her courtiers but in this day and age I would have thought it obsolete. However, I have to admit that even though Victoria loves Albert, it is in its essence a brilliant political and economic move between Germany and Britain."
Cain seemed to be talking about governments but Verushka's sluggish spirits struggled to move beneath a layer of thick protective ice. Was a few stolen kisses all they would have together? If she had been presented with such a situation a mere month before she would not have found a thing to lament, but having shared all that they had, it was like opening a book, only having to replace it on the shelf after a few pages. An incomplete story in the library of her life.
"I can't deal with this right now, your Grace." Verushka waved him off as the words he continued to speak congealed into an incomprehensible gelatinous mixture of diatribes and endearments. She needed to process everything he said and the implications it had on her own life. Standing in a field with a mallet was not going to make sifting through her own emotions any easier and the longer he spoke the more dangerous her mallet became.
"Verushka, wait," Cain appealed to her as turned swiftly on her heel.
"Wait for what? Certainly not for you," she bit out with words chipped from ice.
"Please try to understand," he coaxed, hoping to soothe her anger.
"I do understand Cain." Verushka took a deep breath of country air and was grateful for its crisp freshness that helped to clear her mind. "When I was just a maid I sold my skills, now as a noblewoman apparently we sell ourselves."
"That is not how it is, Ver." Cain shook his head but felt the uncomfortable sting of truth in her words.
"Let me ask you this then, your Grace, what is the use of being 'noble' when it leaves us both in loveless marriages?"
Cain held her hand, massaging circles in her palm with his thumb. "It is for a greater good than either of us can perceive. Is it too much to hope that we can still see each other?"
Verushka stiffened at the sliver of passion in the rough timber of his voice. "Clandestine meetings by a fireplace? Whispered readings of books in a pantry? That is not a life for me, Cain." She pressed two fingers to his lips before she spoke again. "And it is not a life you would want either."
She gripped his hand, savouring the feel of it around hers and knowing that whatever they had was coming to an end. Verushka offered him a weak smile before pulling him gently to the crowded gazebo in silence. Perhaps she would think on it later and despise the softness in her tone but those were emotions to deal with long after her brain had picked apart their conversation in painstaking detail.
They barely made it a few steps up the incline when a voice smirked amused behind them. "Well, well, well, now isn't this cosy?"
Lady Maria Saffron had turned the corner with her Pall Mall partner, when she observed the pair ahead, strolling hand in hand. Verushka noticed that for a woman who was playing games out in the summer heat, she looked perfectly coiffed. In place of a sweaty sheen of perspiration she bore only a rosy glint to the delicate slope of her cheeks. Her chocolate brown hair fell in pleasing curls down one shoulder, while her silk and lace gown of peach remained free from the tell-tale tousles of nearby bushes that Verushka had not managed to escape.
"Lady Maria, how lovely to see you again." Cain bowed to his old dinner guest and her friend. "We were searching for a ball that had gotten away from Miss Wyvernstone."
"This wouldn't happen to be the runaway convict, would it?" Maria held up a brilliant blue lacquered globe.
"My ball!" Verushka exclaimed, ripping her hand from the dukes grasp and seized the offending item once more. "Thank you! Wherever did you find him?"
"Him?" Lady Maria inquired politely.
"Oh, yes," Verushka nodded. "Whenever they are troublesome, I am sure they must be male."
Lady Maria laughed and the sound was akin to the tinkling of bells on a breeze. "That is delightful, Miss Wyvernstone. Please allow me to introduce myself as we have not properly met- I am Lady Maria Saffron, and this is my friend Mr Anthony Studgart."
Introductions were made and in due course the foursome made their way to the refreshments table on the green. As Lady Maria handed her new female companion a plate of cucumber sandwiches she cocked her head curiously to one side and frowned ever so slightly. "Have we met, my dear? I never forget a face."
Verushka, who had been peering at Cain over Maria's shoulder, saw him wink at her above the rim of his tea cup, before Jay scowled in his direction. She hastily snapped her attention back to the Lady before her. "I don't believe so, Lady Maria. Before I came to live with my guardian I lived quite a secular life due to my father's failing health."
"What a pity," Maria sighed. "I would be more than happy to offer you any assistance that you may require through your first London season as a debutante... and perhaps your last."
"Pardon?" Verushka tried not to bark her question.
Maria leaned in conspiratorially as she poured a tepid stream of tea. "I can't help but notice Lord Bexley's interest in you and yours in him. I wish you both happiness," she whispered.
"Really?" Verushka couldn't help but ask. "I mean, there has been some talk of other women in his life."
Maria stifled an amused giggle. "You mean me. Well, let me set your mind at ease. There was a time I had included Cain Bexley in my possible list of matches, but I can see now that his affections lay elsewhere. Trust me, I am not the type of woman to vie for unsolicited attentions."
"Thank you for your frankness, Lady Maria. I hate to disappoint you, but it is unlikely that the Duke of Bexley and I will form a permanent match." Verushka thought she did admirably well to keep the sadness from creeping into her voice but Maria still looked at her with commiserating pity.
Unwilling to meet the Lady's keenly penetrating eyes, Verushka quickly muttered her excuses and wound her way through the numerous loitering bodies back to the side of the Marchioness. If she was going to be present at the ton gathering, she considered that she may as well work, especially if it kept herself distracted from the realisation that she may have held the Duke of Bexley's hand and heart for the last time.
Affecting as casual a pass by as possible, Verushka brushed the sleeve of the Marchioness and stopped to apologise. Then, as if on an afterthought she turned back to chance one final question about the attempted assassination of King George. "Oh, Madam, whatever happened to James Hadfield?"
Lady Derby glanced over one shoulder with a supercilious smirk. "He is a permanent patient of Bethlam Hospital. I believe the commonfolk refer to it as Bedlam."
***
After another profitable afternoon of target practice, Edward Oxford headed back to the home he shared with his mother, sister and brother-in-law. He crossed the river to one of the few gardened squares in Southwark that set itself apart from the gritty sprawl of urbanisation adjacent to his flat. Oxford approached the gap in the small hedge behind the building with practiced ease and pulled apart the twisted vines to slide between Bridewell Orphanage and the immense uprising of Bethlem Hospital for the Insane.
The high walls designed for strict containment made the prospect of his neighbours a worrisome thought when an occasional shriek pierced the night, especially since every wall had their cracks. It was one such crack that first originated soon after the asylum was moved from Moorfield, north of the river to its southern abode in 1816. Oxford surmised that the builder of this particular junction was lax in his duties or perhaps he was more interested in the continually regaled Battle of Waterloo at the time. Whatever caused the initial fault, it had been allowed to grow in substantial size, not enough to permit escape, but certainly enough to tempt a young Oxford to converse with a particularly notorious inmate over the course of many years. And, it was a conversation with a patient such as this that hastened his visit once again.
Captain James Hadfield, previously of the Duke of York's light infantry regiment awaited his young protégée at the gap in the wall. Grumbling and discontent with his existence, he sat in a wheelchair that chaffed at the sides of his thighs with its handles. It had been the third time that he had petitioned Queen Victoria for his release and yet she continued to keep him detained 'at her pleasure.' Hadfield's health was failing according to the resident surgeons' constant warning that he was not long for this earth. As if he needed their premonitions! Every day he felt the disease eat away at his lungs like moths through old clothes in the dank wardrobe of the hospital.
"What took you so long, boy?" Hadfield grated when he saw a familiar eye peering at him through the sliver.
"Training again, Captain." Edward replied, tilting up his collar to stave off the chill from the shadowed afternoon air. The stale scent of sulphur and damp curled its way from Hadfield's aging skin to penetrate the perfume of the flowering gardenias and linger in his nostrils like death at the final doorway.
"I hope you are making 'Young England' proud. I did not choose you to pass on the torch without a great deal of thought. I still remember when you came to this wall and confided in me your dreams of fame and fortune, and now here you are at the precipice of success. I warn you not to act hastily as I did thirty-eight years ago. If I had been more cautious I would not have been caught in Dover when I escaped Moorfields prison in my attempt to flee to France." Hadfield paused his reminiscence for a moment as he coughed and spluttered into a soiled grey handkerchief.
Oxford waited patiently while the old man lingered in the past. Initially, James had an intellect that was sharp as a tack but in the most recent years his grasp on reality seemed to suggest that his mind was becoming as infirm as he pretended it to be many years ago. Feigning insanity when one shot at royalty was all well and good but when it was quickly followed by an alteration of the Treasons Act and an inclusion of the Criminal Lunatics Act, one had to be prepared to be detained indefinitely. It seemed that his master did not possess the fortitude to withstand a mental asylum and Oxford, having lived next to it for several years, couldn't really blame him for the defect.
"Tell me that you have everything prepared," Hadfield continued at length.
"Yes, Captain," Oxford confirmed as he slipped an envelope through the crack. "All the members have signed the agreement. Young England will be stronger than ever, thanks to you. In two days hence Victoria will be murdered and the trajectory of our once strong country will be back on course."
"You have a contingency plan set out?" Hadfield questioned.
"I have several," Edward answered with a nod. "The Tories are pushing the Whigs out of parliament, while Victoria's inner court circle are turning on her, and with the death of her and her unborn child the succession of the crown will surely land just where we desire."
"And what of Bianca?"
"Lady Bianca contacted us just at Young England's General advised. She wants to be present at the penultimate moment which I think is unwise but she seems more personally invested in the outcome. At the very least she will make a useful decoy," Oxford shrugged.
"Don't underestimate the nobility," the older man cautioned. "Bianca may have hands of lily white but she will throw you under the proverbial carriage just as soon as you get in her way. You best save a spare shot in your pistol for her."
"Don't worry, Captain," Oxford assured his mentor, "I would never let a member of the gentry get the drop on me, let alone one that was a woman."
***IF YOU LIKE IT PLEASE VOTE***
A/N:
Hope you enjoyed the completion of this chapter. I feel like this plot keeps me on my toes and I continue to write scenarios that surprise even myself. Cain and Verushka seem to have their own agenda. Only a few more chapters to go until the pivotal assassination attempt so I hope you stay with me for the ride! And of course, there has to be a wedding....but whose? ;)
Also, please be kind. This chapter has not gone through its usual rigorous edit, as it was taking too long so you have been offered the meager bones of my mind. I will probably tear this chapter apart and remake it before it goes onto publish.
xx Inara
Glossary:
James Hadfield: In continuation to the last bit of info you had about James, it might interest you to know that he was suffering from tuberculosis in 1840.
The Treason Act 1800: Due to this piece of legislation there was little distinction between plotting treason and actually committing treason. This meant that even if an individual was found innocent by way of insanity, the prisoner, for his own sake, and for the sake of society at large, would not be discharged. This made it easier to prosecute people for attempts on the life of the King.
Up to that time, defendants acquitted by reason of insanity had faced no certain fate and had often been released back to the safe-keeping of their families.
Criminal Lunatics Act 1800: Parliament speedily passed this Act to provide for the indefinite detention of insane defendants. It was passed through the House of Commons in direct reaction to the trial of James Hadfield, who attempted to assassinate King George III.
Bethlem Royal Hospital: also known as Bedlam was London's only facility for the criminally insane since the 14th century. It really was located just behind Edward Oxford's house.
The hospital was founded in 1247 as the Priory of the New Order of St Mary of Bethlem in London during the reign of Henry III. Originally the hospital was near Bishopsgate just outside the walls of the City of London. It moved outside of Moorfields in the 17th century, then to St George's Fields in Southwark in the 19th century, before moving to its current location at Monks Orchard in West Wickham in 1930. Locals referred colloquially to it as "Bedlam" but during the 1600s the word entered everyday speech to signify a state of madness, chaos, and the irrational nature of the world, reflective of the insanity, mechanical restraint and other extreme methods of treatment within its walls. [Let me take the time here to say that mental health is a really important subject. If you feel lonely, depressed or just plain unhappy, don't feel ashamed to seek help. Living in this world can feel like a desperate effort to simply breathe, so stay strong, have courage and remember you are not alone. Talk to a doctor or mental health professional today.]
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