Mark of Distinction

by Jessica Dotta

  Without thought, I changed course. My lungs screamed for oxygen as I lunged toward my last hope. Behind me, metal clattered over cobblestone, making me wonder if Eramus had thrown aside the poker to help him gain speed. It gave me the last burst of energy I needed.

  Seconds later, my free hand frantically grasped at the stairs as I tried to scramble up. Arms encircled me and yanked me from behind.

  Eramus hissed in my ear, tightening his arms, taking away my ability to breathe.

  I eyed the door, desperate, realizing I hadn’t even managed to bang it. In a desperate attempt, I blindly threw the rock in my hand. The sound of smashing glass filled the air.

  Warm yellow light flooded the features of Eramus’s face. He looked up in surprise as the voices of men filled the air.

  “What the dev—” I heard Mr. Macy’s voice start to yell.

  With a startled cry, Eramus dropped me and ran. I landed on the stone step.

  “Julia!” Mr. Macy’s shoes appeared in view before he lifted me and nestled me in his arms. He removed his hand from the back of my head and stared at the sticky red blood in amazement.

  I buried my face into him and clung, gulping for air. I feared he’d leave me, but I couldn’t speak to beg him not to.

  “Snyder,” he yelled, cradling me. “Get that man running down the street. If you value your life, you won’t lose him. Shhh, darling.” He carried me inside. “My word, what’s happened?”

  In the drawing room where we’d spoken before, he set me down on a couch and tried to back away, but I clung harder and, finally finding my breath, sobbed.

  “Sweetheart.” He pressed his lips against my forehead. “You’ve never been safer than you are at this moment. I need you to calm yourself. I need to examine you.”

  “D-don’t l-l-leave.”

  “I swear it; I’m not going anywhere. Shhh.” He wrapped me in his arms again. “All right. I’ll hold you a bit, but you’re injured and I need to assess how badly.”

  I cried until my breaths came in short gasps. Frightened at my inability to stop inhaling, I stared at him.

  “It’s all right.” His sharp eyes slowly ran over my features. “This can happen when one panics. As you calm, your breathing will become regular. Now let me have a look at you.”

  He sat back, revealing that my blood was smeared over his silk shirt and his chin. My dress and his gold couch were also stained.

  “Don’t allow the sight of blood to unnerve you.” His tone soothed. “Just focus on taking calm breaths.” With an austere expression, he ran his tapered fingers over my head. He unwound my braid and gently felt the back of my skull, where my hair was matted. “How did this happen?”

  “He—he—he—” I couldn’t catch enough breath to finish. “Pushed . . . stairs.”

  His jaw hardened, but he nodded. “I think I understand. The good news, it’s just a gash, not deep. Head wounds tend to look worse than they actually are. Now let me see your hands.” He gingerly overturned them and stared at my burnt palms, encrusted with pebbles and dirt.

  “He tried . . . to burn . . . ,” I gasped, “Edward’s Bible.”

  One brow elevated. “Did you dive in after it?”

  I nodded, earning one of his sardonic chuckles.

  “Yes, and beat out the fire with your skirts.” He lifted a charred section of my dress. “Doesn’t that rather defeat the purpose, darling? I thought the point of the book was to keep one from flames.”

  “Sir.” A man entered the room. “He caught a cab, but I heard him say which opium house he was going to.”

  “I said not to lose him.” Mr. Macy’s tone chilled the air as he continued to examine my hand.

  “I’ve got someone tailing him.”

  “Don’t let him take drugs,” Mr. Macy said as he pressed his fingers into my neck and made me move my head from side to side. “If he has, don’t let him consume more. I want him sober. No one is to see him leaving the house, either. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Send word to the Koops. Business detains me and I won’t be joining their dinner.”

  The man’s footsteps faded into the hall.

  Through my sleeves, Mr. Macy felt my arms. I winced at the spot where Eramus had pinned me with his boot. After taking a penknife from his pocket, Mr. Macy cut my sleeve and ran his fingers over my developing bruise. “Did he have something to do with this?”

  I nodded, feeling my face twist.

  His jaw tightened in anger, but he met my eye with a reassuring gaze as he encircled my rib cage with his fingers and ran his hands over my bodice. When I stiffened, he gave a slight smile. “You’ll have to forgive me, darling. I’m not trying to impose on your modesty. I want to make sure you don’t have any more injuries.” Next he peeled off my stockings and examined my feet. “You’re bleeding here too. Where are your shoes?”

  “Home.”

  “Be brave again, darling.” Macy removed his coat and threw it in a chair, then loosened and pulled off his cravat. He sent a servant for a basin and pitcher of warm water, then dimmed the lamps around the room, leaving one fully lit, which he returned with.

  Taking his knife, he held it over the flame a few seconds before dipping it in brandy. “I need to dig out the pebbles from your hands and feet. And I’m going to use brandy to clean your wounds before bandaging them. It will sting.”

  He swabbed my hand with the alcohol. My breathing had returned to normal, and the first tears of relief, instead of panic, filled my eyes. Mr. Macy looked tender as he carefully dug each piece of gravel from my hands. His face was a mixture of anger and softheartedness. Each time I gave a small cry of pain, he winced as though he’d injured himself.

  After a while I studied him, scarcely able to believe this was the same man who burned businesses and blackmailed others.

  His gaze lifted before it flickered with annoyance. “I see they’ve finally begun talking about me at your father’s house. Otherwise you wouldn’t look at me with such amazement. Tell me what you’ve heard.”

  “My father still forbids anyone to mention your name.”

  He kissed my palm, having removed the last of the dirt. “Well, perhaps I owe Roy at least one favor after all.”

  A knock interrupted us. Macy opened the door, retrieved the basin, whispered new orders, and then set the basin on a low table near the couch. Without asking permission, he dipped my hair into the warm water and soaped my hair and scalp with a sandalwood wash. He rinsed it, then carefully examined my wound after toweling my wet hair.

  A maid returned with one of his satin dressing robes and socks.

  “Undress to your chemise, darling,” Mr. Macy said, then frowned when I blushed. “I won’t look, for heaven’s sake. Besides, I’m the last person to feel modest around.”

  I stood stiffly as he unbuttoned the back of my dress, but allowed him to disrobe me from the torn gown and wrap me in his robe. It smelled wonderfully of his cigar blend and scent. He sat me down and placed a pair of knit cashmere socks on my feet.

  Like he used to do at Eastbourne, he took the couch across from me. “Now, tell me who that man was.”

  I stared at my bandaged hands. Now that the terror had passed, I didn’t want Macy in my confidences. I glanced about me, wondering what on earth I did want anymore.

  “Darling,” Mr. Macy continued after a pause, “when you invite me into a situation, you waive the right to choose the degree to which I become invested. Now talk, for I am rather angry but prefer to make knowledgeable decisions over rash ones.”

  I eyed him and decided I would take no risks with his particular mood. “Eramus Calvin.”

  “Why was he chasing you? Leave out no details.”

  I chose my words carefully, trying to shield Isaac and my father. I told him about Edward’s gifts and the missing citrines.

  Mr. Macy leaned back and crossed his legs, looking pensive as I spoke. When I finished, he leaned forward. “You have my deepest promise, Julia. Eramus Calvi
n will never bother you again. Here.” He withdrew a gold-and-black onyx ring from his pinkie finger. “Everyone in the underworld knows this ring; keep it on your personage. If you ever run into problems in the future, show it. If they know anything about me, they’ll respect it.”

  I took his ring and studied it. The craftsmanship was extraordinary. It was a square-cut onyx; each corner was upheld by hooded cobras whose fangs served as prongs. Their four serpentine bodies twisted flawlessly into the ring’s shape. I couldn’t imagine how he thought I’d ever wear it. Rather than offend him, I slipped it into the pocket of his robe for him to find later. “May I return home now?”

  Silence met my request. Feeling a cold pit in my stomach, I waited several seconds before peeking. He sat, finger curled upon his lips, his eyes penetrating. “Do you really think that’s wise? Here I thought Roy’s house was a safe enough place.” He frowned as he rose and stalked to the hearth, where he finally withdrew a cigarette. “I’m not sure Roy suits you, darling. Think hard. Is that what you truly wish to do?”

  “You—you mean I may leave?”

  He snorted, then spoke around the cigarette as he lit it. “My wife can do whatever the blazes she wishes. If you haven’t noticed yet—” he spread wide his arms—“I don’t exactly lord over you.”

  I glanced at the door, wondering how to transition from that statement to be able to leave.

  He flicked the match into the hearth, looking annoyed. “Fine. You may leave when I have Eramus in my keeping. In the meantime . . .” He crossed the room, set his cigarette aside, and stirred a packet of white powder into a glass of claret. “I want you to drink this. It will calm you enough to sleep. I won’t push you further while you’re in this state of mind. Drink.”

  I accepted the glass. Warmth stole over me almost instantly. My senses were also anesthetized; the idea of resisting him never occurred to me as he led me to the couch. “Sit,” he said. “You’ll be surprised how comforting it can be to be held, saying nothing.”

  He settled next to me, wrapping me in his arms. Within seconds I could hardly see the chamber, and my body felt twice as heavy. Exhausted, I leaned against him, vaguely aware of his scent. Each tick of the mantel clock stretched longer than the one before it.

  At one point, I woke when Mr. Macy stirred and heard him say to someone, “The irony is too rich for words. My own wife assaulted.” He laughed with dark humor. “She has two of the most powerful men in London at her disposal, and yet someone still dares to bully her.”

  “I wish you’d just let her go.” It was Rooke.

  “I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” Mr. Macy shifted as though trying to become comfortable. “My fate is bound up in this slip of a girl. Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

  “If you ask me, she’s jinxed and is going to be the ruin of us.”

  “Keep your opinions. Who was watching her house tonight? She should have had protection the moment that man pushed her outside.”

  “Adam. We found him playing dice.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “With the one you sent us after. Who is he?”

  Mr. Macy sighed and I felt him move. “Never mind his identity. I’ll deal with him personally, later. Go send a note to her father’s staff. I promised she could return when I had her assailant in custody.”

  “Why don’t I just take her there?”

  “No. Let him fetch his daughter for himself. I’m curious if he dares to.”

  Strong arms and the scent of cloves pulled me from my dreams.

  “Paaaaapa?” I asked.

  “She sounds drugged.” It was Forrester’s obnoxious voice. I tried to tell him to go away, but the words got lost before they reached my mouth.

  “Yes. She was rather hysterical when she reached me. I gave her something to calm her nerves.” Mr. Macy’s voice sounded as if it echoed from a sharp angle. “Really, Roy. The only reason I’m allowing her to go back is because she wished to, but my patience wears thin. This is your last chance to work things out with me. Why do you insist on your own ruination?”

  “Help me get her to my carriage,” my father said in a stern voice.

  I opened my eyes, but the room looked filled with fog. A glass clinked, and through the blur I saw a form at the drink table. It was Macy. “Make a request, any request,” he said, “and see if I won’t trade for her.”

  “The Flanders documents,” Mr. Forrester said.

  “Done.”

  “And the letters from the Mallory affair?”

  “I will give you every letter and document in my possession that you can ask for by name,” Mr. Macy said. “In addition to what I promised for your protégé, Pierson.”

  “You’ll return to Eastbourne,” Forrester continued, “and abide by the rules my father placed on you.”

  There was a slight pause, followed by, “Yes . . . provided she’s with me.”

  The support on my left side vanished as Mr. Forrester stepped away. “Do it, Roy. Look at her. She’s safe here. He’ll care for her.”

  “Paaapa,” I said with effort. Surely he wouldn’t leave me.

  “Robert, are you out of your mind?” My father struggled to support me by himself, but his strong arm never stopped clutching me. “I want to know why she’s here. Where is her clothing? What happened to her hands?”

  Mr. Macy laughed. “I’m sorry, Roy, but I’ll not betray your daughter’s confidences. If she wants you to know about tonight, let her tell you.” His voice took on humor. “I’ll certainly not deny anything that she claims we’ve done.”

  “Leave her,” Mr. Forrester said in a whisper. “She’s not what you think. She’s the one who gave me the injury above my eye.”

  “Either you help me get my daughter into my carriage,” my father said with quiet fury, “or don’t ever show your face to me again.”

  I felt someone take my left arm, none too gently.

  “The offer stands,” Macy said.

  I AWOKE CALM. My head throbbed and my hands smarted. I wasn’t in my bedroom, but a smaller room, downstairs in London House perhaps. The bed linens were white and the bed of a simple iron construction. The draperies over the window were closed, and black crepe covered the mirrors, making my stomach drop. Isaac sat in a chair at my bedside without expression.

  “Who died?” I asked. Fear that it might be my father filled me.

  “Eramus.”

  With a tingle of horror, I realized that Macy must have killed him. I covered my mouth with my hand.

  “There are magistrates waiting to speak with you.”

  “Why?”

  “The last person to see Eramus alive said that he intended on visiting you. Did he?”

  All at once, I recalled Eramus leering and turning the poker over in the hot coals. I shivered and nodded.

  “He hurt you, didn’t he?”

  I nodded, half-expecting Isaac to comfort me, but he remained silent, slumped in his chair, his eyes fixed on the floor.

  “Is my father angry?”

  This stirred Isaac for a moment, but he would not meet my eyes. “I’ll find him.”

  A few moments later, my father, Forrester, Isaac, and two investigators stood beside the iron bedposts.

  “Are you up to answering some questions, miss?” one of the investigators asked.

  “Yes.” My mouth felt dry and tasted bad.

  “We’d like to speak to your daughter alone,” the other said.

  My father protested, but Forrester reasoned with him until he left the room.

  “No need to look so frightened of us, miss.” The tall one moved Isaac’s chair near the window. “My name is Constable Laverock and this is Constable Noyes. Did you see your cousin Eramus last night?”

  “He came to the house.”

  “What time?”

  I tried to remember, but except for Edward’s unwound watch, I hadn’t glanced at a clock. “Around eleven, I think.”

  They nodded and looked as though that confirmed prior info
rmation.

  “Just tell us what happened.”

  I licked my lips, wondering how to manage this. Constable Noyes poured me a glass of water. I took a sip. “I think he owed people money and intended to take some of my jewelry.”

  “Did you two have a heated argument?”

  I felt my brow wrinkle. “Not exactly.”

  “Never mind; just continue with your story.”

  My voice was shaking now. “He threw my Bible in the fire, and I took it out of the flames; then he tried to destroy a piece of my jewelry.”

  “Go on.”

  “I jerked free of him and he fell, and—”

  They gave each other sharp looks. “Where were you?”

  “In the library.”

  Constable Noyes frowned. “Miss Pierson, Constable Laverock and I had the honor of waiting for you in the library. Are you aware that the servants are concerned over a missing poker?”

  I didn’t know whether I should answer yes or no. No, I had not been aware that the servants noticed it missing, but yes, I was aware it was misplaced.

  “Do you know anything about it?” Laverock asked.

  “Yes, Eramus chased me with it.”

  “Chased you? Where?”

  “To Mr. Macy’s residence.”

  My answer was met with a different response than I expected. They froze. Noyes finally asked, “Whose residence did you say?”

  “Mr. Chance Macy. He took me inside and personally tended to my wounds.”

  “What wounds?”

  I withdrew my hands from under the covers to show them, but the bandages were gone. I blinked at the change, bringing to mind how Macy’s ring had contrasted against the white dressings. Wondering if I had dreamed that part, I slipped my hand into the gown’s pocket and withdrew the ring.

  The constables’ gazes locked on the ring. Laverock broke out in a cold sweat, never taking his stare from the ring, except once to look at me in amazement. “I—I think I understand. You and your cousin were on a walk when you were attacked from behind.” He turned to Noyes. “That explains the second body in the river. Their chaperone.”

  Noyes nodded agreement and took a step away from me. “She escaped and found shelter with Mr. Macy.”