That afternoon as I trudged after Isaac’s coffin, people jeered and spat in my path. They were angry, and I couldn’t blame them, for they only had one version of my story, and it was a lie—the legacy Mr. Macy left to me. But by that time, I’d found my inner strength. I fixed my eyes on Isaac’s coffin, which was draped in crepe and piled with white roses, and knew that I had been loved, that Isaac held my value, and he regarded it in such high esteem, he’d given his life.
But in the grand irony and absurdity of life, someone screamed at me so loudly it drew attention from even the pallbearers. Mr. Whitney looked over his shoulder and found that I had slowed my steps, separating myself from the mourners so as not to distract. He paled, knowing my story better than anyone else in the world. To my amazement, he abandoned Isaac’s coffin and hastened to me.
How could I not have been visibly touched? Thus began the rumor that in addition to my other crimes, I’d seduced and had liaisons with my barrister. The fact that we were both too grieved to care what anyone else thought anymore, and that we weren’t inclined to lose a friendship forged in the depths of the refiner’s fire, didn’t help matters either.
There was also the matter of Macy’s vast wealth, now my inheritance both by birth and by marriage, neither of which were strictly aboveboard.
Macy’s civil suit against my father was pressed because of Merrick’s efforts. Macy had signed a contract giving Merrick the right to represent his estate in the event of his untimely death. I doubt either of them believed Macy would die when it was signed, but it gave Merrick the right to continue the fight.
Despite his influence, my father lost the suit and as Macy’s wife I was awarded the lion’s share.
Edward’s rape charges were dropped after Macy’s death. His thumb had been tattooed, marking him a bigamist, even though technically I was the bigamist.
Dust trailed in the wind as he was escorted across the courtyard between two guards to the gate where Jameson, my father, and I awaited him.
That morning as we departed London House, dread had seized me that too much had happened since our parting. What, I wondered with quiet dismay, would Edward make of the changes that had been wrought in me? For I felt like a completely different person.
Yet one look at Edward’s eyes was enough to dispel fear. He, too, had matured during our separation. He fixed his unwavering stare on me, assuring me of his unfaltering love, as the guards fumbled with the locks on the chains binding his hands and feet.
The dreamlike quality that had surrounded Isaac’s death finally shattered as Edward pulled me against him and lifted me from my feet. I gave a wild sob of joy as I clung to his neck and then kissed him, forgetting that my father and Jameson were present. We remarried the same day, though I kept propriety by continuing to wear mourning for Macy for a full year.
When the pain lessened enough for us to jest about that season of our life, Edward was wont to remind me that he’d suffered greatly for me—he’d been accused of rape and bigamy—and his reward was being marked, so that if I were to die, no one else would ever marry him. Jameson would laugh and tell him those were light consequences for marrying a faerie, and he should thank me instead of complaining. Our children and our grandchildren flourished. Our foursome survived, of sorts. Henry and Elizabeth hadn’t undergone the same testing as Edward and I had, so for a while we thought them juvenile and they thought us tiresome bores. Eventually life tempered them too.
Those acquainted with the undercurrents of the criminal world have probably well guessed that John Greenham was the famous Lombard Street murderer, who was credited with hundreds of murders during Macy’s reign of terror. And yes, it is true that I visited him in prison. And yes, I likewise shouted words of courage to him as he was pushed to the gallows. For God’s healing extended even there. Was his mistake any different from mine? He’d chosen the wrong path and was unfaithful with the life given him. But the door for healing and change is open to all.
Immediately after he turned himself over to the law, I used my wealth and position to gain an audience with him. There were questions I wanted answered about Macy. There, I learned that the day Mr. Greenham murdered Mama was the day his self-loathing took over. He dealt out death for Macy’s crime syndicate, but to murder fellow malefactors was quite different from murdering a gentlewoman. Even as she died, Mama pleaded with him to keep me from Macy. Apparently her letter to Macy, granting him permission to marry me, was written under duress. And all those tearful letters were correspondences between her and my father as they tried to figure out a solution for me. When I asked Mr. Greenham if Mr. Macy had ever loved me, he rubbed his eyes, then gave a grim chuckle. He said that when it came to evil, it never ceased to amaze him that every person thinks they’re the exception, that their story is different.
“There are no exceptions,” he told me, “only consequences. Only fools believe anything else.”
It was strange being entrusted with Macy’s onerous accumulation of wealth and influence, for it was extracted from human suffering. The girl whom Edward had ministered to at the orphanage, for example, started her life in one of Macy’s brothels. There was no way Edward and I could sort through the priceless artifacts and bank records to determine who the rightful owners were. Our only option was to figure out how to use them to bring healing to the people Macy had damaged. Thus his brothels were turned into refuges, his studies in botany entrusted to hospitals. There were orphans and women in need of protection at every corner.
Who can resist the perils that come with fame and fortune, unless such things are already but dung to them? Had Edward and I not suffered to the degree we did before being placed in such a great position, I cannot believe it would have done otherwise than bedevil our lives.
Pain, it seems, was God’s sharpening tool.
People may decry God when all is lost—screaming from the wreckage of their lives, demanding answers, unable to comprehend why. Yet who are we to tell a master painter the shades and colors we approve of and the ones we don’t—we who are unskilled, and who have no cognizance of the painting’s subject matter?
Of course there is always more to the story—parts that I’ll never learn. For example, I know not who took advantage of the emerald mine, whose paperwork I’d lost in the carriage, or why my father abandoned Mama. Nor, to my great dismay, why Benjamin Dalry refused to ever meet me. I lost a true friend in Evelyn Greenley. Occasionally I’d spot her at the opera or a soiree, her face beaming with joy as she strode beside her beloved Ben; upon spotting me, her eyes would shine with unfailing love in my direction, though her husband’s wishes made any contact impossible.
For each one of us, could we see our individual motives and reasons laid before us, they would make little sense. Reason does not always rule, nor does love, nor does nobility—no matter how desperately we wish to believe it. But shall we judge the path of another? Shall I so easily accuse Forrester of being a beastly coward for running away? Was I there as his houses were burned, his family put in peril, his businesses destroyed? Or dare I call the new Lord Dalry callous, when it was my actions that brought about his brother’s death?
Are our own paths truly less tangled?
What would have happened had I obeyed my father and married Isaac? Or stood by my convictions that Mr. Macy wasn’t making idle threats when he made it clear he considered me his legal wife?
No one can know. Like everyone else’s, my choices were made one at a time, without full knowledge of how they would unfold.
But of what matter? For there is One who is good.
And I know my time draws near, and I can scarcely wait to greet Isaac and tell him that I did not waste his gift, that I learned to love. Soon, soon, I shall greet him and Edward again. Flooded by heaven’s light and joy. We shall be united—equals at last, each one of us pure and clean. And how we shall laugh and laugh, knowing that we overcame. How shall we handle so much joy after so much pain?
But this I know, even on this side of li
fe’s veil: my heart fairly bursts with love. I have so much. I have been so richly blessed. I am a river, as it was promised.
At long last, like Mr. Macy, I feel no shame for who I am.
I have become the adulteress dragged before Jesus’ feet. What does any opinion matter, save his?
Willingly I spread wide my arms for those who cast stones. It is their own jaundiced eyes that keep them hurling jagged rocks. It is their own souls they cut to ribbons.
With such dreadful truths ruling the universe, it is no wonder that grace and mercy are all that is left us.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I AM SO GRATEFUL TO:
My daughter for sharing her time with Julia yet again! This is it. You won’t have to share with her anymore!
My incredible editors: Caleb Sjogren, Stephanie Broene, and Karen Watson. Thank you so much for the thoughtful attention you gave to this story. I cannot tell you how blessed I am to work with you!
Chip MacGregor, the incredible agent man.
Lawrie for the beautiful and incredible desk that you gave me years ago. It gave me fuel to keep writing, and it has become my workstation regardless of where I am.
Anna and Howard for the incredible support you’ve been and continue to be.
Colleen Hollis at Christ Church in Nashville, for your teaching on the cost of healing that spoke life into darkness.
Joshua, Sarah, Joy, and Brian for all your amazing support. Thank you!
Lastly, I want to acknowledge Kate Leary. She passed away before she could finish this series. She took such pride in these books and did everything she could to spread the word. Kate, I miss you more than you know. Thank you so much for the friendship we shared.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
How has Julia changed throughout the three books, and what have been her steps along the way? Consider the following areas of her life: attitude toward God, interactions with others, self-confidence, self-worth, and hopes and expectations for her future.
One of the themes in the Price of Privilege series is that a person’s daily life decisions ripple outward, resulting in long-range consequences and repercussions. As one example, how do Lady Josephine’s decisions play a role in Isaac’s downfall long after her death? In what ways might your choices continue to have weight beyond your own lifetime?
Isaac’s thread is the shortest on Julia’s timeline, yet his life has an inordinately significant impact on hers. Can a brief meeting—perhaps even an unspoken meeting—change the course of someone’s life? Can you think of someone who may not have been part of your life for very long but had a lasting impact on you? Why do you think they affected you so deeply?
Julia bemoans the waste and excess in her father’s household, yet when she and Edward find themselves in need, they are willing to live under Pierson’s roof. How do you feel about the scene in chapter 14 where Edward takes a stand and refuses to wear the requisite finery? Do you agree with any aspects of Edward’s argument, and if so, which ones? Do you find Isaac’s counterargument persuasive?
How does Macy use his wealth and influence? Lord Pierson? Isaac has no great wealth of his own, but how does he utilize the resources at his disposal? Consider what Jesus says about wealth in Matthew 19:23-26. What words of caution do these verses have for the materially wealthy? What hope do they provide for the wealthy—and for all of us? How can a person avoid getting mired in possessions and financial concerns?
In chapter 26, Julia considers what might have happened had she submitted to authority rather than trying to take matters into her own hands. Would this have been a better course for her? For Edward? When is it right to wait, and when should a person take action? What is your typical response when faced with an unwanted or uncertain situation?
At one point in the book, Edward believes himself called to the orphanage, as does Jameson. Julia believes the opportunity in South Africa may be God’s provision. How well are we able to determine what God is doing in our lives based on what is currently visible to us? (Consider the biblical story of Joseph, especially Genesis 50:15-21.) What are the dangers of judging others or ourselves based only on the circumstances we can see?
Edward chooses a radical path, refusing to be boxed in by rules and societal expectations, while Isaac opts to learn from and obey them, working to influence the system from within. What are the advantages and disadvantages to each of these paths? How should a person determine which one to follow?
Jameson and Edward treat Julia differently than she’s been treated in the previous two books. These relationships, combined with Isaac’s sacrifice, transform Julia. As a reader, did you react differently to Julia in this book because several characters acknowledge her value? Does how we treat someone really change them and the way they are seen by others? What, then, is our responsibility to the broken and downtrodden?
In Julia’s society, expectations of men were very different from expectations of women. What aspects of Julia’s struggles in this series are a direct result of Victorian constraints on women? Have you ever felt at a disadvantage because of your gender?
Though restricted in many ways by Victorian gender roles, Julia exhibits her own gender bias when she arrives at Maplecroft and winks at the menservants’ state of unreadiness but is stern with the female staff. Like Julia, are we at times blind to biases in our own culture? Where do you witness double standards today? (Consider areas of education, career, media portrayals, parenthood.) Have you ever knowingly or unknowingly perpetuated these double standards? How can we recognize and break these cycles?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JESSICA DOTTA has always been fascinated by the intricacies of society that existed in England during the Regency and Victorian eras. Her passion for British literature fueled her desire to write in a style that blends the humor of Jane Austen and the dark drama of a Brontë sister.
Jessica lives in the Nashville area. She is always happy to accept tea invitations from book clubs, especially when they serve Earl Grey and scones. Visit her online at www.jessicadotta.com.
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