Mark of Distinction

by Jessica Dotta

  I stared at him, alarmed. “Is she sane?”

  He looked uncertain how to answer. “I don’t know what to think. It’s a very difficult situation for me. Everyone says Ben is dead, but I know he’s not. I also know he would want me to treat her tenderly. Will she bother you much?”

  The carriage jounced over a few grassy spots while I tried to think of what to say. In the end, it was Ben I couldn’t stop thinking about. I’d always had the impression that identical twins had a bond like no other. “Why did you never tell me about Ben?”

  He sat quietly for a moment. “I liked being seen for me and not the other half of Ben. I valued being an individual in your eyes. And then, when I’d said nothing . . . well, it became awkward to bring it up.”

  I pressed my lips together, wondering if it had hurt Isaac to be away from his twin most of his life. Yet I knew better than to press him for details just yet. Later, when we didn’t have a function to attend, I planned to gently probe for more information. Instead, I focused on the girl. “Well, we’re not married yet. I would understand if this Evelyn were made aware by degrees.”

  Displeasure filled Isaac’s face. “She knows how to read, Julia. This is our engagement party. When are you going to stop clinging to Edward? If he’s so wonderful, why couldn’t he keep you from Macy? Why did he leave you when you needed him the most?”

  I yanked my hands from his. “What would you know of love?”

  The stubborn jut of Isaac’s chin was the only indication of his anger. He sat back and looked into the night. I wanted to stop the carriage and march home. I imagined a hundred different ways I could avoid Isaac tonight. When the carriage stopped, Isaac didn’t alight.

  “Julia, I’m sorry.” His voice was weary. “Let’s not be at odds. Especially tonight. Please.”

  “Another function where we have to play our public roles, Isaac?”

  “No. I really am sorry.”

  Before I could form an answer, Hudson opened the door. Isaac climbed out and offered his hand. I managed without his aid and then refused his arm.

  The noise in the drawing room dimmed as we entered. This was far different from London. Here, they were shrewder. They were far better acquainted with Lady Pierson. The matrons carefully studied my features, shocked, before flapping their fans and giving each other disapproving stares. The men wore hints of a smile, as if the appearance of a love child secretly amused them.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Isaac tense with anger before making a show of offering me his arm. Never had I been more grateful for it in my entire life. His strength carried us through the doorway and into the thick of their knowing stares.

  “Colonel Greenley,” Isaac said, bowing. “We are honored.”

  “Miss Pierson, Dalry, how nice of you to finally join us.” Colonel Greenley raised his wineglass and motioned for my father to step forward. “To our guests!”

  My father paused the conversation he was having with two men and lifted his glass. A hesitant scattering of wineglasses joined him.

  “How are you holding up, my dear?” Colonel Greenley asked me in a low voice.

  “Wonderfully! How could I not?” I whispered back. “They simply adore me, as you can see.”

  Colonel Greenley and I apparently didn’t share the same sense of humor, for his brow creased in confusion as he took a step backwards.

  “She’s perfectly fine, thank you,” Isaac smoothed. “I hear Pierson is planning to hunt in the morning. Are you joining him?”

  Colonel Greenley stared at me a second longer, then chuckled. “I wish I had your skill at turning a conversation, Isaac. Go on, mingle.”

  Isaac directed me toward a man his age near the windows, as a young woman slipped into the room and edged behind a palm tree. Wistfulness tinged her features as she viewed us. She was slight with dark-blonde hair. Despite the hollowing of her cheeks, she was picturesque. More than one matron clucked with sympathy and turned to whisper. Though she never took her eyes off us, I detected no resentment. She seemed the type who would feel agony over every gesture between Isaac and me, saving them to lament over privately.

  Isaac was aware too, for his arm stiffened, though his conversation did not lapse. Compassion forced me to break from Isaac. “I must go speak with her,” I said.

  Isaac didn’t have time to stop me.

  The girl’s blue eyes looked over my dress and jewels, and a little sigh escaped her. I ached for her, for it was apparent she was nowhere near recovering from her grief.

  “How do you do, Miss Greenley? My name is Julia Pierson, and I’m especially pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “Are you not afraid to associate with someone . . . someone addled?” Her eyes wandered to a group of women who watched us, horrified. “It’s what they think and whisper, you know.” Her mouth trembled as she turned her gaze back to me. “I’m so happy for you, Miss Pierson. Isaac is so wonderful, and so are the Dalrys. You’ll both be so happy.”

  “Will you call me Julia?”

  She looked taken aback. “You do not dislike me, then?”

  “Why would I?”

  “Have you not heard . . . that sometimes—” she stepped farther into the palm leaves—“I pretend Isaac is Ben?”

  I debated my answer. She didn’t seem mentally unbalanced, at least. “We all grieve differently. I think I can understand.”

  She grasped my hand. “I promise not to do it anymore.”

  “Will you show me the terrace?” I slipped my arm in hers, deciding the other guests didn’t need to see this. “I would like a glimpse of the stars.”

  Outside, she leaned over the balcony and gave a strange laugh. “You must think me odd. But if only you saw what Ben and I were like. . . . He was wonderful, so wonderful! But why am I telling you? Being in love with Isaac must be equally glorious!”

  “I do hope that I’ll meet Ben someday,” I said.

  Her smile suggested she’d given up. Presently, she linked our arms.

  The rest of the night we were inseparable, and she took it upon herself to make my introductions, which probably did more for my standing in the neighborhood than anything Isaac could have done.

  As Isaac and I left with my father, Colonel Greenley hastened down the steps after us.

  “I am deeply indebted to you.” Colonel Greenley pumped my hand as if I were a Frenchman. “If it is ever in my power to grant you a favor, do not hesitate to ask.”

  When I stared at him, confused, he explained further, “Outside of Isaac, you are the first person my daughter has spoken to in over a year. Not only did she speak with you, but to everyone here tonight. I had all but given up hope. Thank you.”

  My father smiled and nodded as if he’d accomplished the feat. “Perhaps we should arrange for her to come and stay with Isaac and Julia after the wedding. See if we can bring her further out of her shell. I know the very room in their new house she can occupy.”

  I opened my mouth, ready to protest, but Isaac winked at me as if telling me to endure my father a little longer. The time to walk independently had not yet come.

  Colonel Greenley shifted his weight, considering the idea. “Will you be keeping your busy schedule?”

  “Rather, but we might arrange for Kate to be with Evelyn.”

  Colonel Greenley rubbed his hands against the cold, giving me a sharp look. “What say you to the idea?”

  For a second, I was pure astonishment. My breath frosted the air as it came in hard pants. I couldn’t even remember the last time my opinion was taken into account. My father frowned, heightening my discomfort. His expression made it impossible to tell what he expected me to say. Because he’d just agreed to have her, I gave a hesitant nod.

  Colonel Greenley crossed his arms as he huddled unprotected against the cold. His smile, however, couldn’t have been warmer. “Good. Then I’ll send her soon.”

  That night, as I stepped from the carriage, the grass beneath my feet was hard with frost. Isa
ac had gone home to be with his mother and Kate, so I steadied myself on my father’s arm, casting a quick glance at the stars. The cold air made them throb with a matchless brilliance that left me breathless. Each one was so luminous, each orb so alight with jubilation, that my heart ached. That night they diminished our significance with their infinite numbers. How tenuous all seemed when one thought that in a hundred years they would still dance in the same pattern, while I would be gone. Longing stirred, but I wasn’t certain what I wanted anymore.

  “What on earth!” my father exclaimed before releasing my arm and storming toward the estate’s entrance.

  A quick glance revealed the source of his alarm. Golden light poured from his library window, bathing the lawn.

  I hastened after him, but the sheer weight and volume of my skirts prevented my catching up with him.

  “Robert!” My father’s shout reverberated from the library as I entered the hall. “What do you think you’re doing!”

  By the time I reached the library door, my father was loosening his cravat and glowering at Forrester, who stood at the desk. At his feet were stacked piles of my father’s private documents. Every lamp in the chamber was lit. Sitting in their pools of light, ledgers and fragile record books sat open. Behind Forrester, every drawer had been opened, their contents now on the rugs. Bookshelves contained huge gaps.

  Forrester laughed with near hysteria. “I have him, Roy! I finally have him!” He pounded the desk in his excitement. “It’s so obvious! It’s been staring us in the face the entire time!”

  My father pocketed the long strip of silk, considering his chamber. His thoughts were unreadable; in all the months I’d lived with him, it was the first time I’d encountered this expression.

  All at once, he noted my presence. “Remain here,” he ordered Forrester, then turned and ushered me from the chamber. “Good night, Daughter.” He kissed my cheek and moved me toward the stairs. “You’d best go to bed.”

  He walked me to the staircase. I considered trying to eavesdrop, but, as if reading my thoughts, my father waited at the foot of the stairs until I ascended.

  The following morning, Isaac carried the scent of fresh air, and cold clung to him as he surprised me with a kiss on the cheek.

  “Brava, darling, on your performance last night.” He grinned, dropping into his seat, then piled eggs and ham on his plate and grabbed a sweet roll. “Glitter and all.” He wiped his fingers on a napkin while gesturing for coffee. “Ben is going to be eternally grateful!”

  I nodded my greeting. “Forrester’s here.”

  Isaac threw down his pastry. “I solemnly swear that when we’re married, I’ll forbid him to visit so we can get a break.” He slurped his coffee, then waggled his eyebrows as Forrester entered the chamber and collapsed into a chair.

  Forrester held his face between his hands. “Where’s Roy?”

  “Couldn’t you have at least tucked your shirt in?” Isaac asked.

  “Why? It’s only Julia.” Mr. Forrester scowled at me. “I can assure you, she’s not shocked.”

  Before anyone could respond, my father’s footsteps approached. He snarled, catching sight of Forrester. “There you are! You said it’d be in this morning’s paper! What are you up to?” He threw the Morning Gazette on the table.

  “Not there?” Mr. Forrester picked up the sheaf and pretended to scan the pages before brushing them to the floor. “Hmmm. Odd. Probably tomorrow.”

  “If it’s not in by Friday, I’m giving it to the Times.”

  Mr. Forrester’s mouth looked like the food in it had suddenly soured. “You swore I could have the story!”

  “Why should I wait when every paper is nipping at this opportunity?”

  “Because you promised, that’s why.”

  My father made a growling noise. “Friday, Robert. Friday!”

  He knocked James from his path as he left the breakfast room.

  Forrester picked up The Standard from the bottom of the pile. “What’s using him up?”

  “Excuse me,” Isaac said to me, snagging another roll before hastening after my father.

  I rose too, but Forrester pinned my dress with his foot.

  “Are you drunk? Get your boots off my dress,” I ordered.

  He obeyed, keeping his gaze on the paper. “Greenham was at the tavern.”

  I dropped my heavy skirts. “And?”

  Mr. Forrester propped his feet on the cushion of a chair next to him and continued to read. “It’s his opinion, if you marry Isaac, he wouldn’t live to see another month.”

  An eerie feeling, similar to a shiver, worked its way up my spine. “You think Macy would kill him?”

  He turned a page. “Oh, I have no doubt about it now.”

  The room suddenly felt empty. I waited, but Mr. Forrester only discarded his paper and then took up The Token and started reading anew.

  “That’s it?” I demanded. “That’s all you have to say?”

  “Yes.” He flipped a page. “Unless, that is, you agree to help me get rid of Macy.”

  “Kill him?” I backed away, remembering Macy’s tender face as he tended my wounds.

  “Only a true Macy girl would jump to a conclusion like that, though Greenham swears Macy took no pains to train you.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s entirely possible you are the most unlucky person walking the earth. The moment you first drew breath, you became the most tempting bait on earth for Macy.”

  I paused, his words painting anew Mama’s story of how the midwife nearly dropped me in my fury. Though I did not fully grasp Forrester’s meaning, his tone communicated that perhaps it was with good reason I had kicked and screamed that day. “I don’t understand.”

  In answer, he reached into his waistcoat and withdrew a velvet pouch, which he placed on the table. When he unrolled it, I nearly gasped in amazement.

  Inside was a necklace consisting of five individual chains. The base was thin blue enamel, which looked almost like something only royalty would wear. A strand of pearls, a strand of rubies, a strand of opals, and a gold filigree chain all looped at varying lengths and were held in place by gold flowers with large pearls.

  It was so delicate and beautiful that I reached out and touched it before I remembered my manners.

  “Take it.” He shoved it across the table. “It’s yours.”

  “Mine?” I couldn’t help but lift it.

  “It’s the replacement necklace Macy offered to buy you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He sent a note after murdering Eramus. He offered to replace the broken necklace. I spent half a day searching for something this costly, curious to see how much he’d pay. I bribed the shop owner to send a note to his house, stating that you’d admired it and were inquiring to see if he was willing. I set it up so that if Macy was, it’d be sent to Lady Northrum’s under the guise of a repaired piece.”

  “And he purchased it?” I looked at the beautiful necklace, stunned.

  “Guess at its cost.”

  I tied the ribbon, sealing it back in its burgundy folds. “You shouldn’t have done this.”

  “Thirty thousand pounds.”

  The knowledge I held an empire in my hands was even more breathtaking.

  Mr. Forrester finally set aside the newspaper, turning his full attention on me. “He’s never spent that much on anyone except himself before. He’s serious about keeping his wife. You need me if you’re ever going to be freed from him. I am one of the only people in the world who finally knows how to contain him.”

  “Why do you need me, then?”

  “Need you? All I want from you is the satisfaction of checkmating him with his own queen.”

  I shook my head, backing from the chamber.

  Mr. Forrester chose another newspaper. “Eventually, you’re not going to have a choice. Macy will never relent. I can wait as long as you can.”

  THAT MORNING, not knowing what else to do with myself, I sat in the window seat of my bed
chamber and stared at Eastbourne. Forrester’s words kept echoing in my head: “Eventually, you’re not going to have a choice.”

  When he’d spoken them, I almost shrieked with laughter. When, since joining my father’s household, had I had a choice?

  I was weary of intrigue, of my father’s bullying temper, schedules that I had no say in, the endless parade of new faces. I’d been pushed step-by-step in a direction I never intended to take—pushed so gradually that I scarcely knew how it happened.

  My heart beat in angry jerks. The idea that I had say in my life was an illusion. And what had the illusion won me? Was I any freer? I wasn’t certain who I was anymore. I knew the smiling, masked version of myself. But she, too, was only an illusion.

  What did I want?

  My first thought steered toward the impossible—Edward and Mama. But knowing they were unattainable, I thought smaller. What if I decided whom I’d visit for once, or what I would wear that day? What would I have wanted to do right then, before I came here?

  The answer was so obvious, I felt like a simpleton.

  I hadn’t breathed fresh air in ages, nor been warmed by the sun’s rays on my skin. Each time I daydreamed about Edward, had I not also yearned for the outdoors? I needed to walk in the wind, to feel grass beneath my feet. To wander in solitude.

  While in London, I’d become so conditioned to submit and obey that guilt enwrapped me as I made a decision without first consulting my father or Isaac. I would walk to the ancient oak tree that Edward had found our first morning here.

  Deciding my impotency was the illusion, I donned a walking dress, the plainest dress I could locate, then wrapped myself in a shawl and hastened outdoors before anyone could stop me.

  The frost that had glittered over the landscape this morning had dissolved, leaving behind piebald patches of mud. Mist enshrouded the fields like a distant wall providing me with longed-for isolation.

  Mud caked the bottom of my skirts, and my legs burned as I climbed up the hill. I could have spread my arms and spun in circles. I felt freer than I had in months. My body felt a strange mixture of temperatures—cold in the nose, ears, and toes, but tingly warm everywhere else.