Forrester chuckled, then poured himself a drink. He leaned against a chair with the air of one ready to enjoy a show at the theatre. Isaac’s mouth turned down in the slightest frown. Were we still engaged, I would have taken the hint that even smiling at such behavior was beneath us.
My father struggled to keep from chuckling. “For the record, there is no Reverend Auburn living here. You’re now Reverend Edison Shirley Darling.”
Edward angrily looked heavenward as if petitioning for strength. “No, I’m not.” Then, after a pause, “Which one of you came up with Darling?” He glared at Isaac.
“That’s of no consequence to you.” My father held the letter to the candle flame and allowed it to catch fire before tossing it far back in the hearth.
Edward burst into action. He raced across the chamber and, taking the most direct route, stood on a chair and jumped onto my father’s desk. His feet slid over the map, sending papers everywhere as he scrambled over its surface. Despite his efforts, the page was consumed by the time he knelt by the hearth.
“What is wrong with you people?” Edward screamed.
I rubbed my thumb over the faint scars on my palm, trying not to think of Eramus screaming in that exact same spot.
Isaac rose. “Here. Take my seat. You don’t look quite recovered from your illness.”
I nodded and sat, gripping the edge of his desk.
“Did someone offer me a position somewhere?” Edward continued loudly.
My father glanced at Simmons, who took the hint and spoke on his behalf. “As Lord Pierson’s son-in-law, you will not take that offer. I am happy to inform you that we’re offering Reverend Darling a rather handsome position running his lordship’s mines in South Africa.”
South Africa? I gasped, recalling the allure of Jameson’s stories.
“Who,” Edward said very slowly, “sent that letter?”
“No one you need worry about,” was my father’s reply.
“So, what? You’re just going to hold Julia and me hostage? Not allow me to find employment?”
“I just offered you employment, at twenty-five times the annual amount of the offer I burned.” My father brushed off the top of his map as if to rid it of Edward’s footprints.
“It wasn’t yours to burn.” Edward stalked across the library, back to me. “And you didn’t offer me a job, but some mollycoddle named Reverend Darling who associates with fathers-in-law who burn letters without permission.”
My father covered his mouth, hiding his smile. “The country believes you’ve kidnapped Macy’s bride. I need something to tell my colleagues.”
Edward spread his arms as he turned. “Why not the truth? Why not trust they’ve had their own encounters with Macy? Why not give them a chance to see if they’ll assist you?”
My father made a snorting noise as though Edward had asked him to sprout wings.
Edward gave them his back. “Fine. Burn all offers of employment. I have nothing to lose by waiting.” He turned at the door. “But the first time I bump into one of your cronies and they ask for my name, I’m telling them.”
Seeing that Edward was prepared to leave, I likewise stood, noticing that Isaac had been corresponding with Evelyn. I placed my hand over my bodice, realizing he truly was betrothed to her. Otherwise, he would never dare to write her.
Knowing I’d placed him in this embarrassing position, I quietly searched for any hint of his true feelings.
Though he met my gaze straight on, it was like trying to find a chink missing out of a finely polished marble statue. I found nothing.
Finally I said, “James was bringing Edward and me tea here. When he arrives, will you have him deliver it to my bedchamber instead?”
Isaac looked startled but then gave a genteel head bow. “Of course.”
It wasn’t until I was on the second landing that I realized our afternoon teas had ended.
“Are you certain?” I asked Edward upon locating him. As predicted, he’d retreated to my bedchamber.
“Yes,” he said without looking up, writing hard.
“But think of it, Ed.” I sank into a nearby chair, glad to rest. My legs were weak and I still felt light-headed. “Africa! Don’t tell me you haven’t felt its allure too? I’ve watched your face as Jameson recounts his travels. Consider it! We could leave here, and we could go far enough to make it difficult for Macy to find us. Plus, in the jewelry business, you’d make powerful connections who could lend us additional support if Macy gives us problems. And Jameson could see Africa again.” I reached out and touched his hand. “We could see Africa.”
“And be called Darling the rest of our lives? No thank you.”
Chills swept over my body as I remembered it was Macy’s pet name for me.
“For what it’s worth—” Edward looked up—“I like my name. I haven’t persisted in sin or done anything wrong. I’m not changing it.”
“And if he wanted to hire you as Auburn?”
Edward flung his pen down and threw himself back in his seat, frowning. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
James knocked on the door, which had been left open a crack. I waved him inside. “How can you not be sure?” I pressed. “What better offer are we going to get? We could even save up enough money to live off the interest. We could return to Windhaven in a few years! Maybe we’re supposed to do this.”
“Then let it be done openly and honestly, without deceit,” Edward said. “In the meantime, no. I’m not going to commit to a life of lies. Neither is your father the type of man I wish to work under. I’m not going to make decisions from the standpoint of fear, all to avoid Macy. It’s a coward’s solution. I want no part of it.”
I glanced at James as he transferred teacups to the desk. How openly, I realized, we now spoke about Macy in his presence. Wondering if he could shed some light on how Edward’s new name was chosen, I asked, “Who came up with calling us Darling?”
He grinned. “So you heard that part, did you? They spent hours deliberating. Simmons suggested Darling, as it would have a positive association in people’s minds. Your father insisted on Edison, so we could explain accidentally calling him Edward or Ed.”
“And Lord Dalry?” Edward demanded. “Did he come up with Shirley?”
“No. He refused to take part in the talk, saying it would only anger you.”
If it were anyone except Edward, I might have been tempted to smirk that someone had thought poorly of Isaac and came out looking the worse for it. My heart, however, beat with compassion for Edward.
Edward furrowed his brow, telling me he had no intention of changing his view of Lord Dalry, despite Isaac’s proving himself less of a villain than Edward had painted him.
“Edward,” I intoned softly, “have you considered discussing the matter directly with my father?”
“I will,” he said, “when he apologizes and returns to calling me Auburn.”
TWO DAYS LATER Lord Dalry’s engagement to Miss Evelyn Greenley had captivated London, and our house filled with visitors. Though there was scarcely need of it, both Isaac’s and Evelyn’s lineages were charted and explored in the Times. The public was properly shocked that nineteen generations back, Evelyn’s ancestor had been a cousin of King Edward II. The fact that my father had donated a generously sized emerald-and-pearl ring for the engagement caused some speculation in the gossip columns that Isaac had utilized the same ring he’d planned to give me.
My mouth felt dry as I read the article. Surely, I thought, that couldn’t be true.
After I finished reading the announcements, I sat back and carefully peeled an orange, wondering how Isaac truly felt. He gave no hint as he took tea and perused his appointment book. Not so much as a sigh escaped him, which I found odd, considering he’d been in love with me only weeks ago.
Yet as I divided my orange into segments and scraped off the pith, I noted that he never once acknowledged me. Even when he left the breakfast table that morning, he simply stacked his books and informed
my father that his mother and Kate had arrived for his engagement celebration and he would be gone most of the day.
A grunt from behind the headlines was my father’s reply.
I gave him a pitying look, certain my father’s coldness had to have hurt him. But in typical fashion, he showed no expression as he took his leave.
“Do you really think he could be in love with Evelyn?” I asked a week later as I laid down a three of hearts. The candlelight caught the sheen of the illuminator’s work.
“I don’t really care,” Edward said as he rearranged the cards in his hands.
“You won’t find it there.” Jameson grinned before he laid down the four and then the five of hearts.
I glanced at the clock, frowning. It was nearly midnight and we’d been playing cards in Edward’s bedchamber for four hours. Downstairs, Colonel Greenley, Isaac, Simmons, my father, and a number of lawyers occupied the library. Though Evelyn didn’t come with nearly the fortune that I’d have, her father had taken a week to work out the terms. From what I understood, Evelyn had to be granted an estate trust before the engagement contract was signed.
My face lowered as I shuffled through my cards looking for the six of hearts. “I don’t see why she needs an estate trust. It’s not like Isaac would squander her money or abandon her, even if she did become fragile again.”
Edward scowled. “If you ask me, the colonel understands Dalry better than most.”
I frowned, looking over my splayed cards at him. To censure Edward, however, would only escalate into an argument. We’d already exchanged sharp words last night when I’d been unable to stop speculating why Isaac was getting married to Evelyn. Edward no longer wished to speculate. He didn’t care. He didn’t want to care. He never wanted to talk about it again.
“Edward, Edward,” Jameson rebuked quietly as he laid down a seven of hearts. “You’re too harsh on the lad.”
“I’ll be as harsh as I want.” Edward’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at our manservant. “I think he’s one of the most slimy politicians I’ve ever met. This sudden engagement to Miss Greenley only proves it. He’s marrying for all the wrong reasons.”
An abrupt knock on our door surprised us.
Jameson threw down his cards and quickly stood, putting on his jacket. I’d started to gather the cards from the compartments of the game board when the person knocked for the second time.
“Reverend Auburn?” Isaac’s voice sounded from the other side of the door. “Mrs. Auburn?”
Frowning, Edward stomped to the door. He swung it open. “What?”
A faint scent of cigars carried from Isaac’s clothing as he blinked in astonishment at Edward’s greeting.
“Well, are you going to just stand there?” Edward finally demanded.
“I beg your pardon,” Isaac said, giving us all a confused glance. “I heard Jameson’s voice, so I assumed it wouldn’t be intruding to knock.”
“You’re fine, laddie,” Jameson said in a soothing tone. “Did you require me?”
Isaac’s gaze fastened on me for a second before he swallowed. “No, I . . . Well, it’s just that tomorrow evening Colonel Greenley is planning an impromptu gathering with the officers of his regiment to celebrate the contract being signed and—”
“Thank you, but no,” Edward said, starting to close the door.
To my surprise, Isaac stuck his foot in the door. “You will please allow me to finish.” His jaw jutted as he waited for Edward to back down. When Edward simply clamped his mouth, Isaac decided to address me. “It didn’t feel right to celebrate with strangers before it was commemorated with family. So I came to ask if you and Reverend Auburn would honor me and join the tea tomorrow afternoon. Mother and Kate are coming too.”
His invitation was so stunning that I could only stare. He wore no mask, and as a consequence, he looked vulnerable.
“Are you finished now?” Edward asked, starting to close the door.
Isaac looked so crestfallen that I answered before I thought.
“Yes,” I found myself promising. “I’ll come.”
Isaac’s gaze pivoted back to me as he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Well, I won’t,” Edward promised. Then shut the door.
“Edward!” Jameson’s rebuke made me jump.
“Don’t. That man has no honor, and I’ll have nothing to do with him.”
“Have you grown so hardened—” Jameson’s tone was stricter than any headmaster’s—“that you can’t see what’s right in front of your face? That was an earnest request for friendship.”
“I’m not in such need of friends that I’d scrape the bottom of the barrel.”
“Bottom of the barrel?” Jameson challenged, nearly yelling.
“He has no money of his own and lives like a leech off of Lord Pierson. I, at least, would work if her father would stop burning my correspondences! Lord Dalry tried to usurp Julia and was party to forcing her to live a lie. It’s no secret to me that he’s not relinquished his emotions toward Julia—”
“Poppycock!” Jameson brushed the argument from the air. “I’ve seen nothing improper. You can’t hold him accountable to the same rules you abide by. His nature is different from yours.”
“I pray that’s true!” Edward opened the door in an angry gesture for Jameson to leave.
To my relief and horror, Isaac no longer stood in the hall. My father and Forrester had replaced him. Forrester snickered, then saluted Edward on his way to his bedchamber.
My father allowed his displeasure to thicken the atmosphere before taking out his pocket watch and winding it. “As someone who refuses to take the job I’ve offered, I’d be more careful about whom I call a leech.” He nodded over Edward’s shoulder. “Jameson.”
“Sir.” Jameson took his leave with a formal bow.
My father glanced at me with an air that asked if I was satisfied. He returned his watch to his vest, then continued toward his bedchamber.
“And as someone who prides himself on the running of his household—” Edward’s tone was too soft for anyone else to hear—“you should at least try speaking with your daughter.”
In my dream, I stood inside Maplecroft at the bottom of the great hall as sunlight slowly poured through the glass dome and stretched down the azure walls. Mouth dry, I tried to remember what I was supposed to be doing but it kept eluding me. My hands, clutching my skirt, ached as they had immediately after they’d been burned, but when I tried to look at them, it wasn’t possible.
“You need to be at breakfast,” Eaton said, passing me, his arms full of folded table linens.
Mrs. Coleman rounded the corner next, her apron splashed wet. “Naughty girl, why aren’t you at the breakfast table?”
When I turned in the right direction, the hall stretched into pitch darkness.
“Must you always be late?” James passed me next, running headlong into the emptiness. “Make haste! There isn’t much time left!”
I realized I was starving. My hands trembled as I placed them over my stomach. This time I could see them—small cuts and scratches dotted with sticky bits of sap. I stared at them, vaguely recalling they’d been like this somewhere else in a time before.
“You need to hurry!” Simmons shouted, suddenly at my side. “Or it’s going to be too late!”
I ran toward the back of the dark hall and immediately found myself crossing the threshold. A serving bowl of oatmeal sat in the center of the table, surrounded by melons, pears, and oranges. A small pitcher of honey glinted in the light. Directly across the table, someone held up a newspaper. My feet felt fastened to the floor as my body had a visceral reaction to this memory—though I couldn’t place what memory this was.
Then the paper lowered, revealing Isaac’s afflicted expression. My gaze shifted to the front page, where Forrester’s article featured us. Isaac looked at me with the fresh anguish of someone discovering a betrayal, then lowered his chin. He crumpled the newspaper against his heart as his brows pulled dow
nward in an expression of deepest grief. I felt unconscionable as his mouth contorted with pain.
Gasping, I sat up.
Lamplight from the street below carried to Edward’s open bedchamber window. The faintest stars shone through the haze of London’s smoke.
“Juls?” Edward mumbled, turning in his sleep.
Breathing heavy, I checked my hands. They looked clean, but I couldn’t get the image of pinesap from my mind. They still felt dirty.
“You okay?” Edward drowsily asked. “Bad dream?”
Outside, men’s laughter rang out, telling me that the elite of London were still attending soirees. I nodded, though I doubted Edward could see me. “Yes, a dream.”
“You want to talk?”
I sank back down and rested my head against Edward’s chest, grateful that he pulled me close. “No.”
Anxiety sprouted nettles in my soul as I approached the door for tea with the Dalrys.
The happy lilt of feminine voices within filled London House as pleasantries were exchanged. I ran a hand over my brow and then bodice, uncertain why I felt so nervous. After all, it was just tea. I’d had scores of them before with Kate and Isaac, separately and together.
I placed my hand on the gleaming handle but could not bring myself to turn it. Instead I glanced toward the third floor, where Edward studied. Why did this tea feel so different?
“Where is she?” Kate’s impatient voice reached my ears. “You said Julia was coming too!”
“She’ll come,” was Isaac’s bland reply.
“Is she still getting dressed?” This time Kate’s voice was nearer the door. “Maybe she needs help deciding what to wear.”
I stepped away from the door, hating that I was about to be caught, though I hadn’t deliberately been eavesdropping.
“I said she’ll come.” Isaac’s voice carried the weight of authority. “I don’t think it wise to disturb her. She might be with Reverend Auburn.”
“And her husband?” A cold pit formed in my stomach as I recognized Lady Dalry’s voice. “Is he joining us too?”
Price of Privilege Page 27
