Chapter Four
Victoria noted Lord Thompson when he left Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s office, but she made no move to speak to him, for she would not wish to be seen within these four walls, and she was somewhat surprised to discover him here.
He was with two other sharply dressed young men, along with a man called “Titan,” according to the woman who had shown her into the gaming hell.
The woman, known as Hermia, said “Titan” managed the Lyon’s Den, whatever that meant.
A few days prior, Victoria had received a note in the post from Cassandra, which said her sister had found new employment and hoped soon to have enough money to raise the child on her own.
Victoria did not see a means for such to be true, though she had said a prayer for her sister’s continued well-being.
In her estimation, Cassandra must be far enough along for others to know of her condition.
Interrupting Victoria’s thoughts, Hermia tapped on the door to say, “The mistress will speak to you now.”
Victoria gathered her belongings and moved quickly to leave the room where she had made a point not to look upon the decor.
There was too much gold trim for her taste and that did not address the numerous paintings of men and women in various stages of undress and…
Well, she was not confident in their purposes beyond copulation.
Hermia tapped on the door of another nearby room. “Miss Whitchurch, Mrs. Dove-Lyon.”
The woman identified as the owner of the Lyon’s Den turned from where she poured herself a glass of dark liquid.
She was well-dressed in what could only be called mourning clothes, including a veil that covered much of her face.
“Hermia tells me you have a question regarding your sister, Miss Whitchurch.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon made no gesture for Victoria to sit, nor did the lady do so. “Then speak your question, girl. I have a business to run.”
Victoria’s shoulders stiffened in a mixture of intimidation and awe, but she quickly found her voice. “I received a message from my sister Cassandra. It was written on paper that had a symbol that I have come to believe indicates she wrote it from your establishment, ma’am.”
“Was this recently?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Earlier this week. That is when I received it. This is my day off and my first opportunity to call upon you.”
“Might I read what was written?” the woman asked. “I assure you I know no one named ‘Cassandra’ among those I employ, but perhaps someone is using a name not her own. That happens in our business.”
Victoria assuredly would not use her real name if she chose to work inside these walls. “Such as Hermia?” she asked, with a small smile as she handed over the paper to the woman.
Though she could not know with confidence, Victoria thought the woman also smiled. “I prefer names that are unusual in British society, but not its literature: Puck, Theseus, Hermia, Lysander, and the like. A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream is my favorite Shakespeare play.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon read the message and handed it back to Victoria. “From the date on the paper and the nature of what was said, I would assume your sister was the girl I knew as ‘Meredith.’”
“‘Meredith’ is one of my sister’s names after our godmother,” Victoria said with a bit of excitement in her voice. Though she would not be happy for Cassandra to be working in a gaming hell, she would be thankful to be reunited with her sister. “Is she here? Might I speak to her?”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon permitted silence to fall between them. “Perhaps you might have a seat, Miss Whitchurch.”
Victoria swallowed hard as she sank onto a nearby chair. “Is the news ill, ma’am? If it is, tell me at once. I assure you I am strong enough to learn what has occurred.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon nodded what felt to be approval, though Victoria could not say such was true with any confidence.
“‘Meredith’ was not of the nature to live this life,” the lady began.
“Those within these walls are ‘injured’ in ways no one must know. Your sister originally asked to work the floor, but I do not permit men and women to mingle in the gaming rooms. Next, she asked to be one of the ladies who men pay for their favors.”
Tears formed in Victoria’s eyes, and she knew she had whimpered when she heard Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s description of how far her sister had fallen. “How is that possible?” Victoria asked. “She… she…”
“Your sister is already with child,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon spoke the obvious. “I could not permit her to perform thusly. I offered to place her in one of the homes we maintain, but she refused. Does your family not know the father’s name? Can they not seek restitution?”
“The son of my father’s patron.” Victoria was not confident she should be speaking of these very private matters with a stranger, but she sensed Mrs. Dove-Lyon could be trusted.
“No resolution was offered. We have lost everything,” she admitted as tears slid down her cheeks and her bottom lip began to tremble.
“Cassandra believed the young gentleman would marry her.”
There was a long pause before Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, “And you must remain strong for all of them?” It was as if this woman who was not in society understood the evils of society better than anyone Victoria had ever met.
She wished to nod the truth, but, instead, she rolled her shoulders into place. “I am grateful to you, ma’am. You have been very generous with your time.” She stood and turned to leave, but Mrs. Dove-Lyon stopped her.
“I believe your sister has taken a position in one of the great houses of London, Miss Whitchurch,” the woman said.
“About the same time as your Cassandra was to go into the safety of our house for the women and children, one of my employees reported she had seen Meredith leave with a woman seeking my services in what many call ‘matchmaking.’ I did not view this for myself, but Helena is quite observant and always trustworthy.”
Victoria let out a heavy sigh. “Was this recently, ma’am?”
“I cannot speak to the exact day, for we are always busy at the Lyon’s Den, and the days speed by faster than any of us would like. Yet, I would say just a bit over a fortnight.”
Victoria closed her eyes in a brief moment of thanksgiving. “Then I shall return to the room we once let together and wait for her return. Thank you again, ma’am. I am truly indebted to you for your attempts to protect my sister.”
“Hermia!” Mrs. Dove-Lyon called without a response to Victoria’s praise.
“Yes, mistress.” The woman must have been waiting outside the door.
“See Miss Whitchurch safely out of the Den.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Victoria followed the woman, but she did not look at the painting or the decor, for her mind was too full of worry regarding whether Cassandra was eating enough to support both her and the baby and whether they had shelter.
She exited the house without thinking and turned towards the front of the establishment.
She would like to claim a hackney, but she would walk instead so she might save her coins to assist Cassandra and the baby when they were reunited.
Therefore, she turned her steps away from Whitehall and the past.
Orson joined Benjamin, Hartley, and Beaufort in Benjamin’s waiting coach. They had used his larger one today. “Did you learn anything that might assist us?” Orson asked as he climbed into the carriage.
“The coat may or may not have been hidden by one of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s ladies,” Benjamin explained.
“Reportedly, one of the women long-employed by the Black Widow of Whitehall viewed one of the newer girls with the coat in the hall outside of the privates, perhaps less than a month back, but she did not report it at the time, for she did not know whether it was the one the woman used when walking about outside of the Den or not. As we knew already, Mrs. Dove-Lyon expects those she employs to go about appearing ‘respectable’ when outside of the gaming hell’s walls.
However, many of the girls also keep ‘mementos’ and such from their lives before coming to the Lyon’s Den.
The woman still employed within assumed it possible the coat had belonged to a loved one or some family member or something in that manner.
As Titan said, ‘We all have our secrets.’ Unfortunately, when we asked if we might speak to the woman who had hidden the coat, we learned she left her position a few days after the shooting, saying the chaos had frightened her. ”
“So, nothing of importance then?” Orson demanded.
“Nothing except Titan claims they were attempting to catch one of the Den’s patrons who was hiding marked cards in the niches,” Benjamin shared. “Such is how they came across the coat.”
They sat in silence for an elongated moment, before Hartley addressed Orson on another subject.
“I do have two bits of good news regarding Lady Emma Donaghue. No marriage contract between Lord Donoghue and Lord Davidson has come through the diplomatic lines. Such does not mean it could not have been a private arrangement. However, if you keep Lord Davidson at bay until this coming Monday, as the lady has said, Lady Emma will reach her majority and cannot be coerced into a marriage not of her choice. I have seen a copy of her christening and her date of birth is present on the church records.”
Benjamin teased, “As I suggested last evening, you could remove the lady from Duncan’s house and secret her away in some place no one would suspect, and then you might marry her yourself.
” Benjamin watched as an idea took root in Orson’s mind.
He and Orson were very much alike in that manner.
They both wished to have all the facts and all the options laid out before them before acting.