Twenty Four Part One

Today, Margaret would be able to see him hang. She would see the evil, demented man, who had beaten and abused her, hang by his neck til he be dead.

Margaret slipped out the back of the Duke's manse, her wee babe wrapped up warmly in her arms. She went around to the side gate and let herself out onto the walk.

She walked briskly, knowing she had quite a bit of ground to cover, but she had not wanted to bother the Earl and Countess with her needs.

Margaret had already been vindicated once, when Pedro had mercifully killed Marcus Bailey.

That act had relieved Margaret to no end. She did not want to have to kill Bailey herself, but, had it not been for Tiny guarding him on that beach, she could not say whether she would have found a chance to slit Bailey's throat. She would be forever grateful to Pedro for doing the deed.

Just in case the babe she carried had been Bailey's, she wanted no ties to the man, and she had been able to lay that worry to rest.

Her babe had blue eyes, and so had Bailey, yet, Margaret did also, so there were no real answers there.

She looked down at the wee boy in her arms. She loved him with all her being and she held him a little bit tighter before kissing his precious forehead right below his small shock of black hair. He furrowed his brow in his sleep, making her smile slightly.

Margaret had black hair, like the babe, and all she could find when she searched his face, was a reflection of herself. She was a blend of European and Asian, her mother had been impregnated by an Englishman. Upon telling him about her state, she had never seen or heard from him again. Her rent had not been paid, and she had not been left with many options.

Margaret's mother had been a mistress, who then became a prostitute in her desperation. She sold herself for years, then she finally sold Margaret at the slave auction, when Margaret had been but five years old.

Margaret had then been a house slave until she was thirteen. She had fled from that house, the one belonging to her first master, because he had abused her maliciously when he drank. She had ran away with three cracked ribs and a broken jaw.

A big, blonde man had seen her begging on the street, he had offered her a home, employment, and refuge, and that was when Marcus Bailey had taken control of her life.

The hatred she carried for Marcus' being, and his lies, caused her to pray daily that he had not been the one to father her child. Though he had used her regularly, when the whim struck him.

She walked on down the streets determinedly, her hurried stride bringing her closer to the Tower with every step. She could now see a crowd accumulating out in front of her.

She walked on, past the people that were congregated around the hangman's platform, to stand hidden at the back of the crowd.

Luckily, the babe slept, he had been up through the night periodically and Margaret hoped he would continue sleeping until they returned back to the Duke's residence.

Margaret was free of her former enslavement now, but without employment or a family, she was at a disadvantage, and she was at the mercy of strangers.

The Earl and Countess were most kind, and they had promised to help find a safe haven for her and the babe. Yet, Margaret honestly did not know what she had been thinking to leave the island.

Had fear clouded her judgement when she fled the place that held so many bad memories?

Now she found herself even more lost, in a world she was not familiar with. She knew the English language and that was the extent of her knowledge of this place. Growing up in the Orient, and then spending years on an isle, had not broadened her horizons extensively.

She had copied a map to find her way here to the Tower today, and she had studied the map many days in a row to feel confident enough that she could find her destination.

It was still strange to be in a new country, the sights, smells, and sounds were so different from anywhere else she had been. She was not sure she would ever want to live here, for it felt very confining after her life lived on the island.

She may fare better in the country, as Lady Arianna had suggested, or the Lady had also mentioned her aunt who lived by the coast, she may have employment for her. Even that may be better than the busy city bustling around her.

Margaret swung lightly from side to side, trying to continue the motion the babe had felt when she walked, and he seemed content to be swaying slightly. His little mouth made smiles and frowns, his tiny eyebrows raised and lowered as he dreamed. Margaret focused on him, right up until the crowd's murmuring signalled the Admiral was being led from the Tower.

Margaret then focused upon Miser. Admiral Miser ranted and raved, then he damned himself forever in Margaret's eyes, when he spat at the priest. The holy man was there to hear Miser's confession, but there would not be one given today.

Margaret held her breath as the rope was tightened and the trapdoor fell.

A tear fell from Margaret's eye and landed on her son's face. He frowned, but did not awaken.

Margaret now felt free, two of the men who had abused her cruelly were now dead. She was not sure if she should be glad, yet she was.

Both of those men had played a part in taking her choices away from her.

Never would she be a virgin bride to any man, ever. Never would her son know his father. She had no hope of a marriage and family. What sane man would want a woman that had been used as a whore until she became burdened with a child she could not even place to any one man.

Bailey had used her so completely, she had seen her dreams of serving Christ evaporate, there was no possibility she could join the church now, as Bailey had passed her around from man to man, until she felt filthy. It was terribly unfair, yet Margaret's entire life had been unfair.

Under Bailey's rule, she had known it would only be a matter of time before she would conceive a child. Margaret had tried all she could do to not become pregnant, she had managed to keep it at bay for almost four years. But it had finally become clear to her that she carried a babe, whether she wanted to be carrying one or not.

This man who hung dead in front of her, had beat her, forcing himself upon her a mere two weeks after she had given birth. He had hurt her terribly and hit her with his fist when she cried out in pain. He had held his hands around her throat, until she was sure she would die and leave her babe without a mother. Miser had also caused her to not be able to bear any more children. They damage he had done to her had been inside and out. He had taken away her choice to her future, and now he had no future at all.

She had feared he would kill her that night, and her babe would have no one.

That had been her one and only concern. As to herself, it did not matter if he drained the life out of her, t'was only the babe she had thought of.

Margaret raised her eyes and watched him hang, she watched him swing back and forth slowly, as she straightened her spine and prayed for mercy upon his soul.

His terrible deeds would not be used to turn her into a bad person. She was satisfied, he was dead, the least she could do was pray for his soul.

She turned to make her way back around the crowd, when she noticed what must be the King, speaking to the Earl, Pedro, Carmelita and the Countess. They then followed him inside the Tower, followed by his men, as Margaret turned and made her way slowly back to the Duke's manse.

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Tess had been as quiet as a mouse, she let herself into the sitting area, then tiptoed over and closed the door to the bedroom quietly.

The newlyweds lay asleep and never heard a thing. Tess cleared the table of their dinner dishes and carried the tray down to the kitchens.

She then filled the tray with coffee, tea and sweet rolls, taking it back to the guest chambers and leaving it for when they awoke.

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Violet sang while he bathed. Betsy was alternately cringing, or grinning, when he hit a particular note that either made his voice warble or screech. He sang a bawdy tune, also making her blush, as she went about cleaning her teeth and dressing for the day.

Tess had a helper this morning, a young houseboy that had filled the tub in the bathing chamber, as Violet and Betsy had broken their fast.

Betsy had bathed first. She was just relaxing enough to drift away in her mind, when she was shocked and confused for a moment, and found herself scrambling up, out of the tub, when Violet had stepped into it.

She glared at him, while he taunted her, about never having seen her move so fast before.

She pulled the linen more tightly around herself and huffed at him. "Well, you could have warned me, you know."

He laughed uproariously, as she flounced away to stand in front of the fire in the bedroom.

"Are ye sure ye will not be comin' back, lovey? 'Tis a large enough tub fer two!" Violet was feeling in a funny mood, all of the worries and stress about whether his wife had been ready for love, had been laid to rest. He was an incredibly happy, and wee bit tired, man this morning. Violet tended to be silly when he did not get enough sleep the night before.

"You just worry about yourself in there, Violet, I will be just fine, thank you very much." She called back to him, as she turned to warm her backside and fan her hair before the flames to help it to dry.

"If ye be sure, lovey." He called once more.

"I am sure." Betsy smiled as she answered him.

He had worn her out, completely. Once she found the joys to be had in becoming one with him, she had been free to enjoy him, and pleasure him to her heart's content. It had taken quite a good long while for the novelty to wear off.

At this point, Betsy just wanted to go back to their ship and sleep the day away. She was tired, and all her muscles were complaining, due to the exercise she had not been accustomed to.

She cringed once more, and blushed again, as Violet came across a lyric he particularly liked.

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Jude arrived home to order a hired coach, then shower, change his clothes, down a stiff drink, and await the coach's arrival.

Watching out the window of his front parlor, he saw the coach pull up in front of his residence. Picking up his gloves and hat, he waited while his sometimes valet, sometimes doorman, Charles, opened the door for him. "Will ye be returning for supper, my Lord?"

"I do not believe so, Charles. I may be quite late this evening." Jude passed the man, entering the coach, as Charles closed the front door.

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Gwendolyn's coach pulled in across the street. She saw Jude come out his front door and enter the hackney. She waved and called out once, yet he did not hear her.

The hackney started moving away from the walk, "Follow them." Gwendolyn called up to Lynwood. She then sat back, thinking of what a wonderful surprise Jude would get, when he came out of his meeting and found her waiting for him.

Mayhap, they could even go out for an evening's entertainment. One's cousin was always an acceptable escort.

Gwendolyn thought of the dresses she had packed, was there one suitable for the theatre, or some other diversion? It had been a while since she had enjoyed an evening in town.

Marcus was one to stay in the country, and as she liked to keep abreast of his movements, she was there more often than not also.

The man was a bore, a simple, boring man, was what Marcus was. But soon, soon she would be free and would not have to sneak around him to see her lover.

Her lover would be taking care of that.

Gwendolyn relaxed in the cushioned seat even further, she just knew she could count on Jude.

The carriage rolled to a stop in the street, as the hired rig carrying Jude was admitted through the gates of a huge residence.

The gates closed again, Gwendolyn strained to see the door to the huge estate, yet it did no good. The house was set back, shrouded by trees and shrubbery.

Gwendolyn shrugged and settled in for a wait, it must be someone very important Jude was meeting with at a residence such as this. Hopefully all would go according to Jude's wishes, as Gwen just hated when things did not go his way and he was sullen. He tended to not be very fun in bed when that came about.

The coach Jude had taken, exited as quickly as it had gone in.

Gwendolyn frowned as it passed, and straining to see inside, she found it empty. Jude had sent the coach away. He must be planning to be here for a while, then the coach would come back to get him at a designated time. That being the only reason she could think of, as to why it would leave so suddenly, and without it's occupant.

At least upon it's return she would know Jude would be finished soon.

Gwendolyn sat there waiting, plotting, and scheming until her patience began wearing a bit thin.

Surely her time could be better spent, than waiting out here for who knew how long it would take Jude to conclude his business. Gwendolyn leaned to look out the coach's window again. Nothing.

Gwendolyn huffed her impatience, and for lack of anything better to do, she began plotting how to bring about the demise of the Marquess of Moonhurst, her brother in law, Damien.

Because after next week, Marcus would no longer be her problem, there would be much bigger fish to fry.

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Jude arrived at the residence that Terese's father had rented for their stay in England.

His goal was to wed the lovely Terese and live in the United States on her father's money. The further he could get away from here, and his debts, the better off he would be. If he could settle his debts before leaving, with her money, so be it. If not, good luck chasing him down.

He approached the door and raised the knocker, letting it fall once.

Patrick opened the door and took up the entire threshold.

"Is the Lady Terese entertaining visitors?" Jude asked the burly man.

"Yes, she be...." Patrick barely got the first word out before Jude turned and signaled the driver of his hired coach to leave.

The carriage rumbled off as Patrick sighed, resigned to allowing the man inside.

Patrick moved back a step, yet still crowded Jude, as Jude pushed through the bottleneck created between Patrick and a side table.

Jude popped out into the foyer and straightened his jacket. "Will you please tell her I am here?" Jude huffed.

"As I was sayin', she be entertaining a guest already. I do not believe she desires ta be disturbed." Patrick looked down upon Jude in a bored manner.

"Just tell her I am here, I am sure, should she know, she would be most glad to see me." Jude could see no reason why she would not be.

Patrick stared at him for a moment then stated, "Wait here."

Patrick went to James' study, where his employer sat at his desk reading through paperwork. "Sir, the Baron Kensington has gained entry and is demanding to see your daughter. Should I announce him, Sir?"

James frowned, which was not hard for a man that looked like a bulldog anyway. "Bring him to me." James resigned himself to breaking it to the man that his daughter was no longer interested in his attentions. She had been seeing Alfred every moment that he had made himself available. And it seemed the young man would not be going anywhere anytime soon.

James squared his shoulders and rose to greet the aging Baron.

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;) Blessings to all, things are going to be heating up now that our wedding is complete!