Chapter 1 #2
Before the words were fully out of Ivy’s mouth, the Dove had grabbed her arm, thrust her hip into Ivy’s belly, and tossed her to the floor.
Air escaped Ivy’s lungs as she stared up at the ceiling pattern. Heavens, she had not expected that.
Ivy rolled to her feet and narrowed her eyes. The Dove was not even breathing hard. She seemed as put out as if she had just swatted at a fly. “Again,” Ivy said.
This time she was ready for the snakelike attack, blocking a blow to her belly and another to her throat, but leaving her feet vulnerable to the low swipe that knocked her onto her back again.
“You are far more skilled than I am,” Ivy said, climbing to her feet. “Why did you attend my class?”
“You are holding back.” The Dove’s tone was mild as she ignored her inquiry. “You are afraid to hurt me. That is a mistake. This time, I want you to try and strike me.”
“I do not think I could—”
Ivy’s breath was cut off by the Dove lightly uppercutting her rib cage. Ivy groaned.
“Hit me.”
Ivy inhaled deeply through her nostrils and then she let loose, just as she had when she was smaller and fighting her larger brothers.
She fared much better, eventually slipping a punch past the Dove’s defenses and connecting with her face.
As soon as Ivy’s knuckles made contact with the other woman’s veil-covered nose—not hard enough to break it but certainly hard enough to make it smart—Ivy shrieked and clasped her hands to her mouth.
“Oh my heavens, I am so terribly sorry. I did not mean to do that.”
When the Dove dropped her hands, she was smiling widely. “Miss Bennett, I would like to offer you employment.”
Ivy bent to collect her water glass from the floor and drank greedily. “I am sorry, madam, but I already have a job.”
“Yes, as a governess for Viscount Brackley’s younger sisters. That is exactly why I require your services.”
Ivy lowered the glass. The Dove continued speaking as she stepped into a skirt that concealed her breeches, and tucked her shirtsleeve tails into the waist. Ivy could smell the expensive peony scent that clung to the woman’s skin despite the exercise.
“Perhaps you have heard of Perdita’s?” the Dove asked.
It sounded familiar to Ivy.
“Perdita’s is the most exclusive governess school in all of England. We supply more than ninety percent of the ton and upper classes with governesses.”
That was why it had rung a bell. When Ivy had told her mother she was going to decline her father’s latest suitor and become a governess instead, her mother had paled and begun to tremble.
She had been terrified of what Ivy’s father and society would think about the granddaughter of a marquess taking employment.
She had tried to talk Ivy out of her decision by claiming it would be impossible to find a position without a letter from Perdita’s, but Ivy’s mind had been too set to ask questions.
“I own Perdita’s,” the Dove continued, sitting on the floor to pull on her boots. “My governesses do more than educate the young minds of the ton. They also listen and collect names and bits of gossip, and then pass the information to me.”
Frowning, Ivy wrapped her corset around her ribs. “For what purpose? Blackmail?”
“No, Miss Bennett, but I am pleased you had the nerve to ask. I collect the information to help deliver justice. Who is holding the lords and ladies of the ton accountable? Who can stop a lord with a title, fortune, and connections, if he has done wrong? Very few have that power, and that is why I help even the score. When pertinent, I forward information to the Metropolitan Police. But when there is an issue where the courts are incapable of exacting justice, I take matters into my own hands.”
Ivy gaped at her. “Are you telling me you have an entire network of spies in the homes of the ton?”
“I am.” The Dove straightened, and when she patted down her veil, Ivy realized with some awe that the woman looked as put together as if she had just stepped fresh from her dressing room.
“What sort of issues require you to take matters into your own hands?”
“The law is very clear about what constitutes a crime, but it rarely takes into consideration what constitutes a crime against womanhood. Recently, there were a number of progressive and outspoken women who were compromised into marriages in order to secure their dowries and silence. It was not illegal, so no law could hold those men accountable.”
“The Dowry Thieves!” Ivy exclaimed. She had closely followed the scandalous exposure in the newspapers over the summer, repulsed by the behavior of the “gentlemen” involved. “Were you responsible for exposing them and ruining their reputations?”
“Yes, along with Mrs. Francis Jones. She was one of my governesses, and she uncovered the entire operation.”
Ivy nearly let out one of the whistles her brothers were allowed but women were not. “That is impressive indeed, but what could you possibly need my help with? I have only been a governess for a month. I do not—” Ivy’s heart stilled. “Lord Brackley. You suspect him of wrongdoing.”
The Dove hesitated. “It is more that I have developed an interest in him.”
Ivy pulled her dress over her head. “He has only just arrived from Prussia. How could he have landed himself into trouble already?”
“Just because he has not previously been back to Brackley Estate does not mean he has stayed out of the country. In fact, over the years he has occasionally visited England in order to complete business.” The Dove paused, tapping her fingers against her skirt as if considering how much to share. “Do you keep abreast of the news?”
“Oh, yes,” Ivy said, lacing her riding boots with one knee propped beneath her chin. “I keep up with all the news and all the latest gossip.”
“Then you will have heard of the curious cases of madness that have begun to plague London. The madness presents itself as mental confusion, memory loss, and lethargy, and it has affected women almost exclusively.”
Ivy nodded sadly. “The headlines today called it hysteria. A number of women have been committed to institutions, and there appear to be more displaying symptoms each day.” She did not want to imagine the conditions the committed women would face.
The Dove’s lips pursed. “I do not believe in female hysteria. The idea that women’s minds are delicate and easily manipulated would be laughable if there were not very real and devastating consequences for those beliefs.
I plan to expose the truth behind the ‘hysteria.’ I have been going through the information provided by my governesses, and some interesting patterns have emerged.
In particular, many of the affected women’s households were visited by a certain man within the year leading up to their ‘madness.’”
“Do you mean to say Viscount Brackley called upon those women’s homes, and then they later became hysterical?”
“More than seventy percent of the ‘hysterical’ women received a visit from his lordship.”
“That is… how could…” Ivy’s mind floundered. What could Lord Brackley have done at those visits? Why had he been in London so often? “That seems to be more than a coincidence.”
The Dove tugged on her black gloves. “Indeed. That is why I need you.”
“How can I help?”
“I want you to listen to the servants and the household gossip.”
Now, that Ivy could do. Gossip was as essential as air to her.
“But more than that, I want you to spend time with Lord Brackley. I want you to assess his character, witness who he deems worthy of his time, and write down his rendezvous.”
Ivy’s nose wrinkled. That sounded far less appealing. So far, Lord Brackley had been as charming as a flea.
“Lastly, any correspondence, notes, or other written materials that you happen to lay eyes on could make all the difference in solving this puzzle.”
Ivy noted the time on the mantel clock and began walking toward the door, deep in thought.
This woman, whom she barely knew, wanted her to spy on her new employer.
If Brackley were in some way responsible for what was happening in London, then it was the right thing to do.
And if he were innocent, then Ivy would be helping him clear his name.
Either way, she could not turn her back on the Dove’s request.
“You will be fairly compensated for your time,” the Dove continued, pausing at the top of the stairs. “And I wish to make a second request. I would like to hire you to teach a self-defense class at Perdita’s.”
Ivy jumped up and down with excitement. “Oh, I would love that! But I would not be able to travel into London weekly. ’Tis too far.”
The Dove waved her hand. “The class would coincide with the Season, when I presume the Brackley family will be in the city. Think it over. In the meantime, will you join us and take on the mission with Lord Brackley?”
Would Ivy join the Dove’s secret society of governess spies? How could she not? The women plagued by “madness” needed her, and Ivy had never been able to walk away from a woman in need.
She stuck her hand out, and the Dove shook it firmly.