But with Edward, everything suddenly felt fresh and alive. I’d taken a tentative first step of trust and found the planking solid.
I tossed aside the counterpane and planted my feet on the ground. Picking up Lady Pierson’s dressing gown, I examined it with disdain. Right then and there, I decided never to wear another article of my father’s late wife’s clothing again. I threw it to the side, choosing to wear yesterday’s chemise instead. I glanced at the trunks in the corner of the chamber. Neither would I ever don one of those corpulent dresses from Quill’s again.
I marched to the window and threw open the drapes, flooding the chamber with the blazing light of dawn. I lifted my chin, drinking in its warmth, then spun, gladdened that it was morning and I had a new life.
In the corner of the bedchamber, with the other luggage, Macy’s trunk holding my former clothing haunted me, yet I was determined to wear my own clothing. I unlatched and lifted the lid, then grinned at how wonderfully plain the contents were. I selected a rust-brown walking dress—a color Miss Moray forbade as it made me appear pale.
A glint of gold flew out from amongst its folds and bounced off the carpet. My breath caught as I recognized it. Mama’s locket. With the tenderness of a mother handling her newborn babe, I retrieved it. Inside, Mama and William’s portraits were still intact. I shut my eyes and pressed Mama’s image against my heart—finally feeling my past merge with my present.
My skirts were so light and airy, I practically skipped beneath Lady Josephine’s portrait. Let her disapprove my choice of husband. While she stood forever immortalized wearing a cumbersome gown and laden with heavy chains of jewels, I would flaunt the benefit of being a poor vicar’s wife—freedom.
Smiling, I slowed my pace before entering the library. A crystal bowl of shiny green apples sat on a marble-topped French table outside the chamber. Surprised they’d managed to find ripened fruit outside its season to decorate with, I grabbed one and polished it on my sleeve as I entered.
To my surprise, Eaton, Maplecroft’s butler, stood at the table we’d dined at last night, rubbing silverware with a soft cloth. Near him a cart laden with dishes and roses waited.
“Eaton!” I’d all but forgotten him.
He startled, nearly dropping the knife he was polishing, but then quickly collected his dignity.
“Miss Julia. Forgive me; I didn’t hear you enter.”
“No, I suppose not.” I couldn’t help smiling. Another benefit of not wearing a lumbering gown: I didn’t crinkle with every step. “When I didn’t see you yesterday, I assumed my father had taken you to London.”
Eaton bowed. “A new shipment of wine arrived by train yesterday. I was out selecting next season’s vintage for your father’s cellar. I’m sorry I missed your arrival.” He glanced at the clock. “There was quite a discussion last night over whether you’d keep your father’s schedule and require an early breakfast.”
Unlike other English gentlemen, my father was strict about rising and breakfasting early. He had a fantastic constitution. More often than not, he stayed out until the early hours of the morning, only to rise again with but three or four hours of sleep. I glanced at the clock, wondering if I’d uncovered the reason behind his continual foul mood. Maybe he was just tired.
“I fear my husband keeps even earlier hours,” I said.
Eaton’s entire body froze.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Only you needn’t worry about it after tomorrow morning. We’re leaving for London.”
“So Simmons informed me.” Eaton glanced at the clock again. “What time shall I tell Cook to have breakfast ready, then?”
Not certain how long Edward prayed, I decided to give the servants enough time to reassemble. “Forty minutes from now will be suitable.”
“Forty?” His eyes darted back to the clock as beads of perspiration dotted his forehead. “Very good, ma’am.”
“Well, we certainly have newspapers.” Edward’s eyes widened as Eaton set down the usual stack. He glanced at the butler before thumbing through the carefully ironed print. “My word. I think every major paper in the country is present.”
Eaton gave a slight bow. “As well as two each from the United States, Prussia, and France.” To me, he added, “You’ll find news of your elopement still dominating the society page. In London they’ve even started placing bets on where you’ll both make your first public appearance. I daresay there’ll be a slew of invitations when you arrive.”
His words dampened our entire party. Edward shot Jameson a look that I couldn’t quite decipher. I doubt now that anyone ever won that bet, for no one outside of Macy could possibly have guessed where that event would take place.
“Yes, thank you,” Edward finally said. “You’re dismissed.”
Eaton’s eyes flashed in my direction as if he was only willing to accept my command. Jameson also caught the movement, for his white brows tufted. Confused, I gave Eaton a slight nod. As soon as the doors closed, Edward started to divide the papers into piles.
My teacup was suspended midair as my stomach tightened. Silently I willed Edward not to do this to me, not to disappear behind a paper wall. I ran my gaze over the opulent setting. Eaton’s tablescape was magnificent. He’d chosen gilt-edged plates and matching crystal goblets. White roses, barely opened, were amassed in a gold-footed bowl. Steam fogged the silver domes that hid piles of eggs, black pudding, tomatoes, bacon, and mushrooms. I was so famished, I could identify what had been prepared by its smell. But I couldn’t eat because I couldn’t endure sitting through one more lavish breakfast where my presence wasn’t truly required.
Edward’s brow furrowed as he scanned through one of the sections he’d set apart.
I set down my teacup, my appetite diminished. Black-and-white print had come to represent an impenetrable paper-thin barrier.
Jameson lifted the first silver dome from its piping hot dish. “I don’t know what you’re searching for, but eat! I can hear both your stomachs grumbling from here. Besides, your wife is languishing under your inattention. And we all saw last night what happens when you offend a faerie queen by improper table etiquette.”
I laughed; once again he’d managed to scatter my clouds with a wave of his hand. That morning I’d spied Jameson and Edward standing on the open lawn, having a deep discussion. I deemed by their expressions that Edward had relayed what transpired between us last night. Jameson beamed with fatherly pride, nodding, but his face darkened toward the end of the talk. The way he’d gravely glanced over his shoulder at Eastbourne was unmistakable, tempting me to release a measure of my fears regarding Macy and place my trust in this new circle.
“I thought you had enough of London when you were beggared on its streets.” Jameson frowned when Edward only bit his thumb.
Edward appeared too engrossed to answer. He strained his eyes as he trailed down one column after another.
Jameson’s splayed hand smacked the paper before him. “Edward!”
Edward blinked, dazed. “Wh-what did you say?”
Jameson shoved the plate of food he’d fixed before Edward. “Whatever you’re searching for can wait. Look at Mrs. Auburn. I thought you were going to maintain the Auburn tradition of gathering the family over breakfast to discuss the day’s plans.”
Edward did glance at me, then swiped his fingers through his curls. Seemingly dissatisfied, he picked up a piece of toast and crunched it between his teeth. “Oh yes. Sorry, Juls.”
I unfolded my napkin and placed it on my lap, aware that his gaze had already returned to the paper. This wasn’t exactly the breakfast I wanted either. “It doesn’t matter. Go on, read them.”
Jameson shot Edward a look that forbade it.
“No, really,” I said flatly. “It’s fine.”
“What she means to say,” Jameson corrected, “is she’d rather you read the paper and ignore her than not read the paper and resent her. You must learn to use words, Mrs. Auburn.” To Edward, “What’s so important, anyway? I�
��ve never known you to take much interest in current happenings. Usually you’re obsessed with discerning the ancient ones.”
“Sorry, Juls. I didn’t mean to ignore you.” Edward spread his hands over the pile. “I just . . . I don’t want to spend one moment longer under your father’s roof than is absolutely necessary. I’m looking for work and thought to get a head start on combing through the advertisements. Though in all honesty, I haven’t a clue what to do. Lady Foxmore threatened that she was petitioning for an inquiry into my misconduct, and I’m not exactly sure I’m allowed to take a position in the church. Even if I can, being a vicar might make it easier for Macy to locate us.”
I lowered my chin, desiring to say that when Macy was ready, he’d find us regardless. Even arriving here, within the bastion of Maplecroft, we’d seen Macy’s hand at work, destroying, controlling, subjugating. But the words stuck on my tongue.
“She seems to think it makes no difference where we go,” Jameson said, using a fork and spoon to lift a heaping portion of buttered mushrooms to his plate. “If the faeries can’t manage to hide her from him, then why should we humans bother trying?” Then, as I gave him a sharp look of surprise, “Words, Mrs. Auburn. I daresay the fair folk drink in their knowledge from the air, or something of that ilk, but if you insist on dwelling amongst humans, you’ll have to get used to our strange manner of communicating. We have to tell each other our ideas and thoughts.”
Edward gave me the same humored look he used to give me when we played with Henry and Elizabeth—one that suggested our companions were proving more fun than we anticipated.
I swallowed, knowing I ought to speak at this juncture, but felt the same painful embarrassment that always arose. “Yes, well, I tend to say all the wrong things, shocking everybody.”
“What a marvelous gift!” Jameson speared his food. “But how can we celebrate it if you never use it?” He chuckled. “I’m quite looking forward to seeing you hone it. Already it’s given me the best bedchamber of my life. I’ve never seen a housekeeper more stunned, and I warrant the downstairs buzzed like a regular wasps’ nest for hours. And it’s not as if we can expect you to leave all faerie mischief behind.”
I laid one arm across my stomach, studying Jameson. He dangled long-denied sustenance to a malnourished soul. I’d been told so often what was wrong with me, I’d stopped believing any part of me was right. That he’d chosen my oddities—the very things that annoyed people and caused them to dislike me—felt threatening. It was like Edward with the toffees. I feared to reach for them lest I discover this nothing more than a cruel joke.
Jameson clucked his tongue twice. “I’d like to inquire the reason behind those long, distrusting glances. But I know myself too well. Nothing infuriates me more than someone being trampled over.” He cast Edward a look. “I might not be able to hold my tongue later.” Then to me, “Never mind it! We’ll soon have you trilling as freely as every other young lady.”
My expression must have indicated that I highly doubted it, for Edward laughed.
“Let’s not take it that far,” he told Jameson. “But trust me, you’re doing exceedingly well, and you should feel proud. Outside of myself, Henry, and Elizabeth, I’ve never seen her open up to anyone. The very fact that she addresses you means she’s accepted you.”
“It’s not as bad as all that,” I protested, smiling as I added a piece of toast to my plate. “I talk to others too.”
Jameson cracked his knuckles. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Whom else does she speak to? We’ll figure out the exact sorts of souls she should be around.”
“There’s Nancy,” Edward said between a mouthful of eggs, “one of the girls I managed to keep out of the workhouse about a year back.”
“Actually, she speaks to me.” I tore off a piece of bread but, before popping it in my mouth, said, “I tried to ignore her, but she refused to notice.”
Jameson gently drummed on the table. “I like this girl! Where did this Nancy person go?”
Edward swallowed his mouthful. “Actually, that’s on my list. She ended at the workhouse regardless. I need to write and see if she’ll join us.” He wagged his eyebrows. “We’re offering her the same salary as you. Still, to get out of the workhouse she might take it.”
Jameson leaned back in his chair. “Well, tell her that despite the homelessness, the sleeping accommodations and food are superior. I think I’ve done my job of scrounging up provisions exceptionally well!”
“Bravo!” I dunked my next bite of toast into my teacup. “I look forward to seeing what you can produce in London. I hear there’s an excellent house on Audley, with a library that exceeds even this one. They also have a famous French chef, though the lord of the house isn’t always pleasant. Think you can manage accommodations there?”
Jameson snapped his fingers. “Done. That Simmons fellow should be announcing our arrival tonight.”
The reminder of my father’s steward turned the food in my mouth to sand. I forced myself to swallow and set down the remainder of my toast. My fingers felt so thick, I could barely clutch the tiny handle of my teacup. While I felt a wonderful sense of freedom entrusting myself to Edward, I couldn’t help but wonder if I were making my worst mistake yet.
Macy had been cryptic about allowing matters to become very uncomfortable for me. I’d not told Edward that part, as Macy had said that after I’d blackmailed him. It was hard to tell one part of the story without the other.
I glanced out the window, even though Eastbourne was too far down in the ravine to see.
“Juls?”
I startled, then faced Edward.
As if guessing my thoughts, he extended his hand over the table, palm up—an invitation for me to take it. I loosened, as his wedding band winked in the light. Nodding agreement to stop worrying, I slipped my hand into his. What could Macy possibly do? We were married.
“Did you hear that?” Jameson leaned forward and faced the door.
Outside in the hall, there was a faint patter of feet.
I scooted back my chair to be prepared, though the sound was confusing. They moved too quickly to be a maid, for servants were supposed to glide in and out, unseen ghosts. The shoes weren’t hard-soled, which meant the person was a female. Yet I couldn’t think of a single girl who would be inside Maplecroft.
The person hesitated outside the door, piquing the interest of our entire party. For instead of knocking, she just stood there, whispering words to someone that were impossible to make out.
I placed my napkin on the table, rising. “Hello?”
“There, see! I heard her!” a familiar voice cried.
Edward likewise rose and glared at the door, ready to defend me.
The door cracked open, and Kate Dalry’s grinning face peeked in near the doorknob. Her hair was in a loose bun and her cheeks in high color. She gave two tiny jumps of excitement, then called out behind her, “She is here! She really is!”
Before I could speak, she raced across the chamber and threw herself into my arms, nearly toppling me. “The grooms said you arrived and were moving on to London in a few days, but we didn’t want to disturb Mrs. Coleman in case they were pulling our legs, so we let ourselves in. The front door is unlocked.”
I clutched Kate’s arm tightly, feeling my insides cinch like overwound gears in a clock. I hadn’t considered that Isaac wasn’t in London with my father. Now that the moment was upon me, I couldn’t face him. I wouldn’t do this. Only I couldn’t think of an escape.
“You need to come grant permission for us to join you first.” Kate grabbed my hand and dragged me unwillingly a couple of steps toward the door. “Though I wasn’t worried we’d be intruding!”
I cast Edward an uncertain glance.
He knew somehow she was Isaac’s sister, because his glare was fastened on the door. He waited, arms crossed, challenging.
“Come on!” Kate pulled harder. “The more you make her wait, the more nervous she’ll become.”
I blinked. “She?”
Kate’s head bobbed. “Evelyn Greenley! Who do you think? She walked over with me this morning so I could sell my eggs.” Her eyes sparkled as she pumped my hands. “Oh, Julia! You don’t know! What do you think! She’s started speaking again. She’s come over every day since the night of the wedding. Mama says at least we can thank you for that much. When Evelyn learned that Isaac stopped sleeping as well as eating, she slipped into our house. I don’t know what she said, but he finally broke down and wept. It was the most awful sound you can imagine. It was so bad, Mama rocked outside the door, crying too. Afterwards, Evelyn convinced him to go to bed and sleep. Mama clung to her next, saying she’d never felt so helpless in all her life and that Evelyn was an angel.”
Each word was like a flagellum tearing flesh. It didn’t seem possible that each new sentence could inflict raw agony, but it did. I stared, horrified, for no one told me Isaac had been that distraught.
Evelyn Greenley chose that exact second to tiptoe into view, a sparrow ready to take flight. Blinking back tears, she clutched a long-handled basket of brown eggs with all her might. She took one step into the chamber, glanced at the men. Then, lowering her chin, she retreated, looking wildly behind her for a place to hide.
“Evelyn!” I cried, recovering. Picking up my skirts, I hurried to her.
She pulled the basket of eggs closer to her stomach. “We only came to—I mean, I tried to stop her—”
I met her gaze; then, leaning over the basket of eggs, I squeezed her tightly about the shoulders, silently communicating my gratitude and friendship. I extended my hand. “Please, come in. I am delighted to have you. I never got to properly thank you for the wedding dress. It was so lovely.”
She drew in a sharp breath at this reminder but took my hand.
I prayed Edward wouldn’t be his resolute, iron-willed self when I turned. But he couldn’t have been more unreadable as I gestured to him. “You’ve met my husband, Edward. And this here is our valet, Jameson.”
Price of Privilege Page 14
