Chapter Five
The Merry Widow
The tears which wanted to fall across her face stayed in place behind her eyes as Isadora greeted the influx of guests from across the state who had come to feast their eyes on the unexpected new bride of Desmond Waters.
“My dear, you are a vision,” proclaimed one robust woman whose name evaded Isadora for hours. “I daresay that Desmond did well for himself.”
“I am truly blessed,” Isadora heard herself murmur, casting her gaze downward demurely. At how many parties had she uttered the same words, how many times had she been the blushing bride?
“I must say, I never expected the old chap had it in him,” the woman continued, smiling impishly. “And a girl so young…”
“Old?” Isadora asked, mildly confused. “He is hardly a man of one and thirty.”
The woman beamed at her and cocked her head to the side. “You haven’t the foggiest notion whom you’ve married, have you?”
The question sent a sliver of apprehension through her but she maintained her smile.
“I daresay, madam, that is one of the benefits of marrying unseen—we learn about one another in due time.”
The lady smiled again but there was an unmistakable glow in her eyes which only fueled the alarm in Isadora’s gut.
“You may be surprised by what you learn.”
Isadora did not know how to respond to such an ominous statement so she opted instead to say nothing.
I wonder if someone is saying the same of me to Desmond at this moment.
Her eyes traveled to where her husband stood, deliberately avoiding her eyes as he stood among his peers.
She still did not understand what had transpired in his quarters. Never had she ever had such an issue with any groom. They had all taken to her without incident. Could Desmond sense that she was not who she claimed to be? That she was not Isadora Childs and that she had left behind six dead husbands? She swallowed the thought, her mind refusing to remember all the women she had been before.
To make matters worse, she could not stifle the heat that had remained burning in her veins long after Desmond’s kiss had left her lips. There was an unmistakable electricity between them, something she had never before felt with another man, husband or not.
Any man who had touched her before brought only fear and revulsion, but Desmond… his touch was different.
He is a mark, she told herself firmly but she did not believe it for herself. It was still impossible for her to see the men she had used and discarded over the years as mere targets for Milo.
Thinking back on the first scheme, she wondered if she would have run then, knowing what she now knew.
Probably not, she thought. How many times had she tried to escape, first Theo and then Milo, who had purchased her for the price of a cow and two quilts. Theo had simply been abusive, driving her to the brink of madness with his demands.
She had been born into Theo’s manor house, her parents both servants. It was inevitable that she, too, would become one. The conditions were horrible, and despite the man’s aristocratic standing, the servants lived in filth, enveloped in disease. Not that it much mattered to Theo, who would beat and starve them regardless of whether they died from sickness.
Oddly, he took a liking to the girl and kept her near his side. The young servant was treated somewhat better than her mates but still abhorrently, sleeping on the floor inside the pantry instead of the leaky old barn and beaten only about the legs and arms, not the face.
A worse fate may have come to her when she was old enough if terrible financial times had not befallen Theo. In the struggle to keep himself in good standing, he sold off whichever assets he could at whatever price he could find—including his favorite chambermaid.
Milo had been traveling through the countryside with his people when Theo found him, offering her for whatever the gypsies could spare. Milo, being the opportunist that he was, saw a great deal of potential in the young girl and was immediately smitten with the idea of taking her.
The gypsies did not take kindly to the outsider in their midst and made their displeasure known, both physically and in cruel, subliminal ways. She would never forget the day she woke in a tent full of snakes hissing at her.
At first, she was meant only to be used as a ruse while the others plundered and stole, but soon, Milo groomed her to be so much more than a simple thief.
She was first married at sixteen. If Isadora were to think of his name then, it would not come easily. The first dead husband, like the others to follow, remained locked in a vault in her mind, much like the women she was with each of them.
Now, she was Isadora Childs. Who knew whom she might be in the coming months? It was sometimes difficult to recall her real name, the one bequeathed to her at birth.
At first, when Isadora was told she was going to America, she had thought that perhaps Milo had finally tired of her and had sold her to a true husband. It was what he would have her believe until he saw her to the docks.
“You do what you always do when you arrive at Darkbrook,” Milo instructed her. “Learn where all the valuables are kept, where he keeps his money. You will ensure he has as much in the house as possible by whatever means necessary.”
“You will not come with me?” she asked, hope and fear flooding her simultaneously. “You will stay in England?”
“I expect you to handle this on your own and return to me when the deed is done,” he told her.
Isadora gaped at him in shock. “I-I cannot kill him!” she choked, looking about in fear. “That is not in me!”
“Then you are not the woman I thought you were. Forget the journey. We return to camp.”
In that moment, she realized how close to freedom she had gotten.
“NO!” she cried as he turned. “I-I am ready to do a scheme on my own. I will do it. You may trust in me.”
He eyed her warily. “You did not seem convinced but a minute ago,” he reminded her.
“I can do this, Milo,” she pleaded. “Please let me show you.”
She offered him her most beguiling smile and he finally returned her grin.
“Do not get any bold ideas about running off, now. You have seen how well it has worked for you in the past.”
“I have nowhere to go without you, Milo,” she told him. “I will not leave you, of course. Not after all you have done for me.”
I will be a world away. I could run, hide. I will steal from this newest husband and start anew somewhere before Milo has any inkling I am gone.
Of course, she should have realized that it could not be so simple. Her life had never been.
Desmond is rejecting me and without getting close to him, I cannot know where he hides his funds.
Yet it was the matter which bothered her the least. The money was on her mind less and less.
“My dear,” the brash woman before her announced. “You have flittered off into some daydream.”
“Forgive me, madam. I must tend to the staff.”
Isadora ventured away quickly before the busybody at her side could object. She realized that perhaps the ballroom was merely too stuffy.
I will get some air to clear my head, she thought, hurrying toward the back of the property.
A grand ivory fountain sparkled beneath the moonlight and Isadora nodded at the guests as she made her way through to the English maze beyond. She needed nothing if not a moment to breathe alone and she hoped that no one had followed. She was unsure how much longer she could maintain the smile upon her face.
She rounded the shrubbery and lost herself inside the intense maze, a place which had become her sanctuary in the days since arriving at the sprawling estate home. It was easier than merely avoiding her standoffish husband in the halls as she tried to think of ways to seduce him.
No sooner had she found her way into the English cottage at the center of the greenery did she freeze in her place. Under normal circumstances, she would find the cabin deserted, but on this evening, there were several candles lit inside.
Have they opened it to the guests?
She stood, uncertain of what to do, when the door opened and she gasped.
“Mrs. Waters,” Isaac said, nodding at her formally. “How do you do?”
“I-I do well, Mr. Jones,” she stuttered. “Forgive me—I did not know anyone would be here.”
“Oh,” he laughed, closing the door in his wake. “Usually the cottage is unoccupied but I have arranged for a new butler to join the household. I was ensuring all is up to par for his arrival.”
She nodded slowly. “Shall I close it for you?” she asked, noting that he had left the candles alight inside.
“What? Oh, no need,” Isaac replied smoothly. “The man is here now.”
“Is he?”
Disappointment filled her. She had hoped for a few moments alone with her thoughts but now that was an improbability given the guests and newcomer.
“Actually, perhaps I will introduce you while you are here. You are not in a terrible hurry to return to the party, are you?”
She considered the trivial chatter and vapid partygoers who waited beyond the maze. Isadora shook her head.
“I am not. On the contrary, in fact.”
“Before I do the introductions, Mrs. Waters, I wanted to discuss a rather delicate situation with you, if I may?”
It was meant to be a question but Isadora suspected if she were to refuse, Isaac was apt to blather forth regardless.
“Of course.”
The barrister stepped toward her and she resisted the urge to move away. There was something decidedly uncouth about the man. Isadora had been told he was a barrister for the Waters, hailing from Britain also, but he seemed to have a hand in too much of the household’s comings and goings for her liking.
Not that I am in any position to question his presence. It simply does not make any good sense that he, too, lives on the property. And now he is hiring butlers? Is that not my job?
Isadora idly wondered if she was taking leave of her senses. She had no more right to the household than a barrister who had been with the family for years. She was nothing more than a flimflam artist of the highest degree, an abetter to murder several times over.
“I understand that you have not yet consummated your marriage,” Isaac said rather bluntly and Isadora gaped at him in humiliated shock.
“I beg your pardon?!”
“There is no need to be embarrassed, Mrs. Waters. I understand that Desmond can be… difficult at times. I only wished to express my enduring support in the matter and offer you a piece of advice, if I may.”
“I-I daresay, Mr. Jones, this is highly unusual.”
“Such are the circumstances.” Isadora was nonplussed but Isaac did not seem the least bit perturbed by the conversation.
“I suggest you do not relent with your affections. Withdrawing will only encourage Desmond to seek other means of having you removed from the estate.”
Isadora was frightened by the words but Isaac’s sallow face remained stoically expressionless.
“This conversation is making me very uncomfortable, Mr. Jones,” she managed to gasp finally. “If you please…”
“As you wish, Mrs. Waters, but do not say I did not forewarn you. Come along. I will introduce you to our newest household member.”
He turned back to the cottage and rapped twice on the door.
“It is only Mr. Jones, sir, and the lady of the house.”
“One moment,” came the muffled response from behind the door but Isadora was still staring at Isaac with mild disgust.
How dare he speak to me about relations of a matrimonial matter? I will have a word with Desmond about this, whether or not he wishes to hear it. I cannot live alongside such a rude gentleman!
Yet her indignation was cut short when the door opened and the butler showed his face. A small cry fell from Isadora’s lips and she fell back, her hand on her heart.
“Mrs. Desmond Waters, may I present Mr. Milo Ayres? He will be of great assistance to you in the household going forward.”
“I look forward to it, Mrs. Waters,” Milo leered, bowing slightly. “A lady with your great beauty undoubtedly requires much help.”
How could I have been so foolish? Of course he followed me here. Perhaps he was even aboard the same ship!
She wondered if he had brought more members of the clan with him.
“I-I must get back to my husband,” she choked suddenly, spinning to leave the men in her wake.
“I look forward to working with you, madam!” Milo called after her and the sinister undertone of his voice was unmistakable. He was there to ensure she did what she had come to do—take the money and murder her newest husband.
And if I do not, Milo most certainly will.