I felt my face crumple as my mouth worked to utter the most horrible words in existence—that I’d blackmailed Macy and my evidence likely just dissolved into ash. But before I could speak, a slight movement near the door caught my eye.
Simmons stood in the shadowed hall, his hand on the doorknob, waiting.
Our eyes met, and all I could think was that I’d finally found Macy’s infiltrator—that my next words held the power of life or death over Edward and Jameson, for surely everything I revealed would be repeated to Macy.
I looked at the elderly man, holding back despair. For his story from Africa was just that—a story. There was no safe group to run to. The ones I trusted heart and soul had proven capable of giving their backs over much simpler matters. Besides, who could withstand Macy? What good was an elderly valet when newspaper mongrels, MPs, and all the wealth and might of Pierson couldn’t stop Macy? Even if Jameson was brave enough to stand beside me, knowledge would destroy him.
“Juls?” Edward brought my focus back to Maplecroft. A curl fell over his brow, a familiar sight.
The invisible band around my chest loosened. Here at least was someone I couldn’t fault. Edward was the last person I fully trusted. His presence helped me steady my thoughts. I had no desire to drag these two into my crisis, so I needed to pull myself together.
I shifted my gaze to meet Simmons’s eyes, wishing I could find words to communicate that Edward and Jameson were innocent and had no knowledge of Macy’s past. I rubbed my temples. “I’m fine, Edward. I am. Jameson, my head hurts. Would you be willing to go check on the progress of supper? I . . . I think I’ll feel better if I eat.”
Simmons’s face screwed into a look I couldn’t decipher as he withdrew a piece of folded paper from his vest, consulted it, then returned it. “Never mind. I’m heading toward the kitchens next. I’ll check for you.” The door shut.
“What was in those papers?” Edward asked.
“I swear, I don’t know.” It was almost true. Now that I considered it, Forrester never told me what our most damning evidence was. I gathered my skirt and fell into a chair. Why on earth hadn’t I thought this out beforehand? I’d been so relieved to wed Edward that I simply tried to forget Macy’s existence. For days!
Realizing that both Jameson and Edward warily watched me, I sought a subject that might distract them. Only I couldn’t think of anything that could hurtle the fact that I’d acted terror-stricken moments ago. Ha-ha, just teasing. By the way, did either of you happen to note the color of Mrs. Windham’s dress the day of the wedding? Shocking, wasn’t it?
To my relief, two upper maids turned the focus from me when they wheeled in a cart laden with dinner. Simmons followed and stood frowning, his arms akimbo. “I revoked your order to interrupt the cleaning of Lady Josephine’s parlor. You’ll eat here in the library, as it’s already in a state of readiness.”
I stiffened, knowing that Isaac would’ve taken great offense that he’d overridden my orders. Yet rather than battle Simmons, I decided to let him think he ruled me. Especially if he were Macy’s spy. Later, if it became necessary, this might give me an advantage and he’d be easier to overthrow, as he wouldn’t be expecting it.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I studied the library, wondering if there was a hidden alcove that Simmons could hide in and listen to our conversation. Well, let him listen, I thought as the girls set up the table. The only person I would ever speak to about this was Forrester, and I’d see him soon enough. I sank into my chair. Who would have thought the day would come when I’d actually want his company?
One of the maids, a young girl who’d helped bathe me the morning I prepared to meet my father, started to set down the plate of food in her right hand. Suddenly she hesitated, glanced nervously at Simmons—who narrowed his eyes—then gave me the plate in her left hand instead.
Before I could think, I was on my feet. I grabbed both plates and flung them into the fire, then snatched the one she was about to give Jameson. “Our food will be placed in serving dishes!” I threw Jameson’s plate into the fire as one of the maids hurried from the chamber. “You will not separate them. Have new food sent! Make certain it is in serving dishes!”
Jameson cast Edward a wide-eyed look of alarm, which Edward missed as he stared at me with one of his own.
Simmons eyed the broken pieces of porcelain scattered over the hearth without emotion. “May I ask what your next set of plans are, Reverend Auburn? I’d like to keep Lord Pierson abreast of his daughter’s whereabouts just now.”
Edward kept a watchful gaze on me. “We’re going to London the day after tomorrow. I planned to seek Lord Pierson out for advice, as my circumstances have changed since our last meeting.”
Simmons gave a nod. “Very good. I’m headed there myself at first light. Would you rather me delay my journey and travel with you? Another companion might prove beneficial.”
“I’m not mad,” I said in a low voice to Edward. “I’m not! But if you allow that man to travel with us, I will be.”
Edward shifted his gaze to Jameson, a plea for help.
My fingers were cold as I also looked to Jameson and asked the same thing.
He considered me a second, then leaned toward Edward and whispered, “Well, any fool knows not to feed a faerie queen on china plates. How dare they! If you ask me, they deserved the broken dishes. Let’s go downstairs and smash the whole set. At the very least, they could have scattered rose petals over the parts touching the food. Completely unforgivable!”
Edward, bewildered-looking, whispered, “Have you lost your senses too?”
“One can’t lose something they’re still searching for.” Jameson gave my hand a pat. “She’s no more mad than I am.”
Tears of relief wet my eyes, for I could see he believed me sane even though my behavior seemed erratic.
Edward offered me a half smile, trying to follow Jameson’s lead since it seemed to be working. “Thank you, but no,” he said over his shoulder. “My wife and I prefer to travel alone. Please do not disturb us again tonight.”
“I’ll be on hand until morning,” Simmons drawled in a doubtful voice before walking away, leaving the door a crack open.
“Jameson,” I asked before anyone could speak, “will you tell me another story about Africa?” If Simmons did have a way of listening, I’d rather a different conversation already be rolling when he got in position to listen.
“Absolutely.” Jameson sat back and crossed his legs. “Ha! It’s been ages since anyone actually asked me for a story. How novel to have someone who’s not heard them all before, too. Now let me think . . .”
I rested my forehead in one hand as he babbled about the delights of having an unspoiled audience. Jameson seemed to understand why I wanted him to speak, for more than once he gave me a look that asked if he were delivering what I wanted.
I relaxed and nodded. Anyone hearing us wouldn’t suspect he was filling empty air. He told stories with relish. By the time new food was brought into the library, he was acting out a tale about the time he tried to jump on the back of a wild quagga to prove his horsemanship skills.
Knowing that Edward thoughtfully studied me, I took care to nod my thanks to the maids, then nibble a few bites, though I no longer had appetite.
Jameson was a capital anecdotalist. Even in my half-panicked state, by the time we reached the top of the stairs and bade each other good night, I’d felt the allure of Africa. A desire to step foot on that continent ran through me with a vein of longing. I envisioned sleeping in canvas tents with the howls of monkeys rending the air. I eyed the ancestral portraits, hugging myself, wondering if I’d feel safe from Macy even that far away.
“Good night.” Jameson bowed, then started to retreat down the hall. “I’m off to sleep in a bed fit for a king.”
“Jameson, wait!” Edward hastened after him.
For a moment Edward reminded me of his boyhood self. It was in the manner he stood, the expression on his face as he sp
oke to Jameson in whispers. He nodded agreement to whatever Jameson said in his ear, bringing to mind a boy reverently receiving instructions from his father. He looked infused with kindness and courage as he stepped away from his valet.
“Thank you,” he said. “I promise, I shall.”
Jameson’s eyes shone with a pride that was the deepest expression of fatherly love I’d ever beheld. It hurt to witness, the same way it is painful for victims of burns to have healing salve applied. I stood unwilling to look, yet unable to turn away. Jameson’s hand twitched at his side as if he wrestled against the urge to tousle Edward’s curls—something I didn’t plan to resist a few minutes hence.
Jameson gave me another heartfelt bow. “Good night, O queen of queens.”
The thickness in my throat restrained me from answering, so I merely nodded.
When Edward regained my side, the kindness in his expression further threatened to crumble me. I wanted to protest that it was unfair for them to unmake me with benevolence. My ability to remain aloof was temporarily impaired because of my panic.
Now I half wished they would treat me with contempt or mutter questions secretly between themselves about my sanity. Then I could have crouched safely behind my walls, clutching my secret about Macy forever. As it was, it felt like a writhing, slippery eel.
Several tapers were lit and set on their silver holders on the vanity. Their wavering flames reflected in the mirror, bathing the aureate bedchamber with a honeyed light. A fire was lit, and copper pitchers fitted with lids awaited our use. They were set near the coals to keep the water warm.
Edward gently lifted the back of my hand and kissed it before moving toward the washbasin.
I slid my arms out of the bolero I wore over my gown and set it on the bed.
Expecting Edward to pour himself a basinful of water in order to give his face and neck a good scrub, I worked on locating the hairpins that held my loose style in place. If I kept busy and didn’t speak, by morning my odd behavior would be in the past. And if I were the first one out of bed and found a way to keep Mrs. Coleman with me at all times, then . . .
“Show me how,” Edward requested behind me.
Hardly daring to look him in the eyes, I turned and found that he’d brought the basin of water to me.
He’d stripped off his frock coat, cravat, and vest so that he stood in trousers and wore a loose linen shirt that gleamed in the semidarkness. “Walk me through the steps of being a lady’s maid. I can’t afford to buy you new stays if I keep breaking them.”
I glanced at the door, knowing the moment he lured me into speaking, I was lost. For I longed to pour out all the fears churning within me and to confess my manifold regrets. I pinned my arms against my stomach and sat on the bed.
“Now you look like the second time I saw you.” Edward set the basin on the floor and knelt at my feet. “Making yourself as small as possible on that rock.” With slow movements, he removed one shoe and then the other. “That was the real reason I asked Jameson how to undo enchantments, you know. Even then it seemed that invisible rules and codes were continuously crushing you. But they are almost impossible to unravel without understanding them. It makes me feel inadequate.”
I pressed my lips together, feeling the weight in my chest grow heavier.
“Sometimes I’ve managed to untwist one of your funny rules, though I rarely understand why or how. I never ask, either. You’re always on the verge of retreating, so instead of questioning, I’ve accepted. But I’m asking now, Juls. Tell me just one thing.”
I started to shake my head, but instead of asking about my odd behavior in the library, he asked, “Why did you fear to step out of the sunshine that day?”
I swallowed my surprise. That was his one request?
With his thumbs he kneaded the sole of my foot as he waited.
I loosened my fingers from the knot I’d squeezed them into. “I found Mama too sad to rise from bed that morning.”
He nodded encouragement to continue. As I did, he started to soak a sponge in the water and peeled off my stocking. I told him the full story, including how I gave Mama all his toffees.
When I finished, he closed his eyes as if savoring the very essence of my personality and his own swelling emotion. The picture is sharp in my mind, for that night unlocked something within me. He bent over my foot, which was supported in his lap, his face grieved, unable to contain the sorrow he felt at glimpsing the tender soul I’d once been. But then, to my surprise, cradling my foot, he bent and kissed it as if I were precious beyond measure—every part, even my feet.
Keeping his loving repose, he switched the foot he tended. He kept his eyes trained solely on his work. “Remember the condition I found you in on the night you were wandering about Eastbourne?”
I stiffened, for I’d not granted him access to this topic.
“Do you recall what you were frightened of?”
My guardian. My mind formed the words I wouldn’t say. Sadness crested, though I did my best to appear unmoved.
Edward lifted his gaze. “Was there a real cause to be afraid? Or like that day in the woods, was it based on a misperception?”
I resisted arguing that it was different. I’d been lied to.
“Consider what would have happened if you explained yourself that day in the woods.” He placed my foot in the towel he’d spread over his lap and gently dried it. “I would that you had trusted me to set you free, even then. Now imagine the outcome at Eastbourne if you’d not tried to handle it by yourself, but sought my aid.”
“I believed my guardian murderous,” I finally succumbed. “I feared it would cost you your life.”
He ceased working and sat with his head bowed. “Consider the scenario from my perspective. The woman I love, isolated, in danger, and struggling to handle matters alone.”
“You would have insisted on investigating.”
“And would that have been a mistake?” Edward kept his posture. “What would have happened next?”
I glanced at the candlelight that shimmered on the wall. Probably Edward would have discovered that my father was Lord Pierson and Macy’s manipulation would have been exposed. Edward would have petitioned my father not to send me to Scotland but to allow me to marry him instead. Likely my father would have conceded and furnished us with the money he’d set aside for me.
“This is different.” I resisted tears. “I know—I know—this time there is danger.”
“I believe you.” Edward finally looked up and arrested my gaze. “But I’m asking you to allow me to lead, Juls. You may not like my choices, as my perspective is different. But I can’t be a good husband unless you gift me with the trust and ability to be one. Test me. Give me this chance.”
No more encouragement was needed, for my secrets were so burdensome I could scarcely carry them anyway.
My vision blurred as I nodded.
I’d like to say that I confessed all to him. But even had I wanted to, I scarcely would have found the nerve. For when Edward kissed my foot, it unleashed an emotion I wasn’t certain how to handle. In that moment I felt loved and seen. Yet I feared it too good to be real. What if he only loved what he’d seen—a reflection on the water that he believed reality? For no one had ever savored my distinct personality. Not even Mama.
I feared that by revealing I was one of Macy’s blackmailers, I’d throw a rock in the middle of the reflection, marring the image he loved.
My tongue swelled every time I even considered that part. My own body refused to proceed.
In the end, I told Edward as much as I deemed safe to reveal and still keep his affection—that some of my father’s servants were loyal to Macy, what I knew of the books, that part of Macy’s downfall had to do with land and deeds, then lastly that I’d learned Macy dabbled in poisons.
As I spoke, Edward abandoned the basin of water on the floor and took a spot beside me on the bed. When I told him why I smashed our dinner plates, he pulled me close and buried his face i
n my thick hair and chuckled.
“Why is that humorous?” I craned my neck.
“Because I was watching her too. Didn’t you note that two of the plates had a double portion of jugged hare and potatoes? She started to give you one obviously meant for the men and then, realizing her mistake, panicked and checked to see if Simmons noted her error too.”
I froze, realizing I was becoming as paranoid as Forrester. “Please tell me that you’re jesting.”
He parted my hair and kissed my neck, scratching me with his chin. “You should have seen her face when you snatched and threw both plates into the flames, screaming we would serve ourselves. She likely thinks you were offended she gave you the smaller portion.”
His ribbing was so good-natured, I couldn’t help but to join in the laugh. “That’s so awful! How do these types of misunderstandings always happen to me?”
“They won’t anymore,” he promised, unbuttoning the back of my dress. “You’re going to start trusting me. We’re going to start disentangling so much more than wrong conclusions. When you’re worried about Macy or Simmons, or anyone else, bring those matters to me and allow me to lead. Do we agree?”
I nodded.
Words weren’t necessary thereafter. As husband and wife, there was another, deeper language we were discovering.
AT SUNRISE, Edward slipped from bed, trying not to wake me.
Knowing he desired to pray in privacy, I feigned sleep until he’d dressed and gone, then moved into the spot he’d occupied, savoring its warmth. The same happiness I felt the morning I woke in the church rose afresh.
Having confessed to Edward made me feel lighter than I had in ages.
I clutched the pillow he’d used and breathed deeply of the lingering bay rum scent. So much of life is falling through dark uncertainty, but with Edward, a net had finally caught me. Until last night, I’d lacked insight on what having a partner meant. Mama and William most certainly had never been a team—in their household it was always safer to conceal yourself, your thoughts, your desires. Anything and everything learned would be used to break you.
Price of Privilege Page 13
