When I spotted the first spiralling branches of the golden oak, however, I hesitated and nearly lost my resolve to finish. The thought of sitting at the tree without Edward was painful. But then, determined to at least touch the trunk, I picked up my skirts.
I wiped my nose with my sleeve. I’d been so full of hope the last time I’d been here. I thought I’d win my father, see Macy defeated, and find my way back to Edward. Would I have come had I known my old life would be entirely stripped from me?
I’d nearly touched the trunk when a cold wind lifted something from the ground, a brown fabric, which flopped, then fell. My stomach lurched upon realizing a vagrant lay propped against the mossy bole. My first instinct was to flee, but the head turned, revealing Edward’s distinctive locks curling around his boyish face.
It was so unexpected that for a moment I thought myself dreaming.
Twigs and leaves were intertwined in his mussed hair, much like the time when we’d played soldiers and crawled through Mrs. Hodges’s thicket. Only this time, Edward’s breathing was too rapid and his cheeks too flushed.
Dampness soaked through my skirts as I knelt by him.
He grinned, his wonderful lopsided grin, reserved just for me. “I read in the paper you’d left London.” He attempted to sit forward but couldn’t lift his head. He relaxed against the trunk again. “I think I have a fever.”
I smiled, trying not to show my alarm. “You do look it.”
He shut his eyes. “You can’t tell by looking. You’re supposed to kiss my forehead. If it feels heated, then it’s a fever.”
I laughed, managing to keep tears from my voice, then removed my glove and felt his brow with the backs of my fingers.
His skin scorched mine.
“How long have you been here?” I asked. Sparks of alarm rushed through me as I recalled that the temperature had plummeted during the night.
He swallowed instead of answering.
I pressed my lips against his forehead, brushing aside his curls. “Edward, darling, can you walk? With support, I mean?”
He opened his glazed eyes and studied me a long minute. “Am I too late?”
I looked down, not certain if he was asking about us or for him. Therefore, I was at a loss to answer.
“Have you married Lord Dalry?” he clarified.
“No.” I could barely choke out the words. “But . . . but I’m engaged.”
“Do you want to be?”
I shook my head.
He gave a weak chuckle. “This keeps happening to us, doesn’t it?”
I sank fully to the ground, feeling as though a gentle rain refreshed my soul, feeling whole again. “Rather.”
“Well, at least you haven’t married this one yet. That much is in our favor. We’ll have to trust God for the rest.” He shut his eyes. “I’m sorry, Juls, but that’s all the sermonizing I can manage.”
“Well, I appreciate the effort. I’ve embraced Christianity now, you know.”
A smile tugged over his lips. “Don’t become alarmed, Juls, but I fear I’m now delusional. I’d like to tell you what I thought you said, but it might get me socked.”
I kissed his brow again, then his temples, not caring about my duty to Macy, my father, or Isaac. “Don’t worry, darling; there aren’t any apples about.”
He gave no response, seemingly asleep.
I drew a deep breath, worried. I picked crumpled leaves from his hair, surmising that while my engagement to Isaac was being celebrated by all but me, Edward slept in the cold and in the leaves, waiting, trusting. How could he have known I’d come? What if I hadn’t?
I pressed my cheek against the top of his head, not certain how to fit Edward’s arrival into my newfound faith. What would my surrender look like now? Was I supposed to do nothing, to fall blindly and trust, or was I supposed to rebel and fight my father with every ounce of energy? It was my first crisis of faith, albeit far more wonderful than I could have imagined. At least—at least—I had Edward during it.
“Ed.” I kissed the crown of his head. “I need you to come with me. You have to stand. I’ll support you. The house isn’t far.”
He opened his eyes and stared as if his thoughts came slowly. Then he nodded and struggled to sit forward again. Wrapping his arm about my shoulder, I helped him stand. He shifted more of his weight to me than I expected, making us both wobbly.
I did not allow myself to feel emotion as we stumbled toward Maplecroft. Haltingly we made progress. Beads of perspiration dotted his brow, making fear clutch my heart. After what seemed like hours, Maplecroft, with her false offers of sanctum, loomed into view.
They must have noticed I was missing and had been searching, for the front door flew open and James raced toward me, his white periwig bobbing as he made haste.
“Help me carry him to a bed,” I ordered. “Then send William for my father’s surgeon.”
“Your father—” he began.
I met his protests with a look that was feral. “I don’t care what my father thinks. You will obey me! And if my father protests, fetch me and I’ll handle him! Am I clear?”
Instead of hurt or anger, his eyes sparkled with pride as though he’d been waiting for this moment. The whites of his teeth flashed. “Perfectly!”
It took about forty minutes before Edward was in bed and an apothecary was sent for. Once satisfied that Edward was in good hands, I went to my father.
Clutching my shawl against me, I knocked on the library door. Then, with annoyance, I realized my skirts were muddy and my hair stuck up in wisps.
“Enter,” my father’s stern voice called.
I tried to press down the freed hair that surrounded my face while I nudged the door open. My father sat sideways in his chair behind his desk, waiting for me with a dour expression. Seated nearby, Mr. Forrester watched with a wicked grin.
“Where have you been?” my father demanded. “I sent for you an hour ago!”
My fingers felt numb. “I went for a walk.”
His eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed. “Isaac gave you permission?”
Heat replaced the cold numbness. “No, I gave it to myself.”
My father met my eyes with surprise, but his frown was friendly as he picked up his pen and returned to his documents. “Honestly, Julia. You should know better than to scamper off alone. Next time, have James or William accompany you. Or better yet, Isaac.”
I took a steadying breath. “I wasn’t alone. Not exactly.”
Both their heads swiveled in my direction, but before they could inquire further, the clatter of footsteps rang in the hall. Isaac swung open the library door; behind him, James doubled over, red-faced and panting.
“Sir,” Isaac cried, “I pray you be calm.”
My father dropped his pen. “What on earth! Isaac, I thought you were with your mother.”
Breathless, Isaac shot me a look of wonderment.
I shook my head, communicating my father wasn’t yet aware.
My father stood. “Isaac?”
I hugged my shawl tightly against me. “Reverend Auburn is here. I found him beneath the oak tree.”
Isaac placed a supporting hand on my back. “I ask you be lenient. James explained the matter. Apparently Reverend Auburn is feverish. She’s not disobeying you. It was an act of charity.”
I expected my father to explode, but his eyes locked on Isaac’s protective stance before he gave a nod. “Fine, but it’s not wise for Julia to visit him. I’ll not encourage his blatant disregard for her safety by continuing to make contact. When he recovers, Isaac, I want an audience with him.”
“As you wish.” Isaac grasped my upper arm, urging me toward the hall.
“No.” I twisted free. “I’m sorry, but no!” Then, not knowing what else to do, I flung myself before my father’s desk. “Please, you don’t understand. I—”
“Isaac.” My father motioned him to leave.
I kept my gaze on my father, so I could not judge how Isaac felt as he left.
But when the door clicked, I said, “I beg you to reconsider.”
“May I remind you that you are betrothed to Isaac.”
“Then let me beg to be released.”
My father’s stare turned iron-cold. “If I were you, I’d choose my next words and actions very carefully. If Isaac suddenly comes to me, wishing to be free of your engagement, you’ll find yourself wed to Lord Alexander before your friend wakes.”
His threat aroused everything contrary in me. “You cannot make me marry someone else, not now! Not when Edward is here!”
My father’s eyes constricted. “Shall we test that theory?”
Mr. Forrester yawned, then stood. “Should I leave?”
“No, remain.” My father glared at me. “This conversation has ended. Julia, you are dismissed.”
Each step away from my father’s chamber made me feel weightless, as if all were too nightmarish to be real. I slipped into the parlor where Isaac and I had first taken tea. There, I sank against the wall, then pounded it with my fists.
I wanted to scream, Why me?
I’d surrendered. It wasn’t fair.
From the wall, Lady Josephine watched without sympathy, nothing more than a cold painting, immune to loss. The first sob broke through. She wasn’t really family. She was just a painting. I had no family except a tyrannical father. I looked wildly about the room, unable to restrain the panic. Everything in my life was nothing more than a facade. Was I truly the Emerald Heiress? Was my father the benevolent man everyone believed?
I slid down, then stretched facedown on the floor, no longer caring what was ladylike.
The door opened and to my dismay, Forrester’s tall boots slipped inside. I gave a bitter laugh, turned on my side, and pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. Of course he would come. “Go away.”
Rather than hearing his footfalls die away, I felt the air move as he crouched beside me. When he spoke, his voice was low and near. “No matter how important your juvenile love affair seems, your real problem is down that hill. Within the last quarter hour, Macy took residence at Eastbourne.”
Disquiet washed through me as I ceased crying and squinted at him.
His expression was that of a poacher finding game in his trap. One of his knees dug into the carpet while his arms were folded across each other. Excitement lit his eyes. “How far are you willing to go in order to wed this reverend of yours?”
I pushed against the floor to sit straight, then wiped my eyes, considering him.
For the space of a minute, his smile was wicked as he met my eyes with an unwavering stare. His meaning, however, was clear. If I helped him blackmail Macy, he’d help me wed Edward.
Elsewhere in the estate, the muffled laughter of two maids carried to us. In the stable yard, horses whinnied and a dog barked as grooms shouted to each other. They were all so alive. I glanced at the lifeless portrait of Lady Josephine, feeling as though my own life were on the verge of forever ebbing away from me.
I returned to Forrester’s steadfast gaze, wondering what he meant when he asked how far I was willing to go. Yet my heart pounded hard within my chest.
Was ever such an apple held out before Eve? For as long as I could remember, I had envisioned marrying Edward and pictured our life in London, where I had believed he would practice law. I’d envisioned a tight, narrow house—one where we’d smile and dote upon our children and fuss about the butcher’s bill until we were able to join Henry and Elizabeth.
Tears blurred my vision as Forrester patiently waited. How long had I felt shoved underwater, waiting and hoping I’d soon achieve a gulp of air? How could I not take the only hand extended to me? For surely I would otherwise drown.
Yet hours spent reading Edward’s Bible raised new thoughts. “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it.”
I pulled my shawl tighter against me. Was this a matter of surrendering to God or finally standing up for myself and not allowing my father to dictate my life?
My father’s firm tread sounded at the end of the hall, each step like the last ticks of a dying clock, announcing the end of my time with Edward.
No further incentive was needed. I gave Forrester a curt nod, telling him to count me in. To say I was innocent in this matter would be a lie. Though I did not know what Forrester intended, I knew it would be drastic. Nor could Forrester have foreseen how dearly it would cost him too. I am convinced that had he known the manner of Pandora’s box our partnership was about to open, he would have left me well alone.
I WAITED HOURS that night for my father to retire. I perched in a chair, feeling queasy with each toll of the grandfather clock. The monotonous ticking of the mantel clock above drove me mad as I tried to mentally prepare for my task. Edward’s presence must have unsettled my father, for he did not order James to key down the lights until near one in the morning.
I waited a quarter hour more before Forrester’s soft knock sounded on the other side of my door. I rose on hollow legs and slipped out of my bedchamber, hoping I didn’t look as sick as I felt.
At the bottom of the stairs, I refused to acknowledge Lady Josephine.
Taking long strides, Forrester led me to the drawing room, where he opened a floor-to-ceiling window and stuck out a leg. He turned, offering his hand. “You first.”
I recall that only a few stars pierced the darkling sky that night, belying how illustrious their display had been just the night before.
Forrester jabbed my side.
“Tonight you must trust me completely,” he said with a glance toward Eastbourne. “First, he’ll test our unity. No matter what he says, do not lose faith in me. He must see our full confidence in each other. Do you understand?”
“Oh yes, we’ll have no problem there,” I commented snidely.
“He needs to know you can stand on your own. Show no weakness.”
Beneath our feet, pine needles cushioned our steps, releasing a clean, woodsy fragrance into the air. I ducked beneath dark boughs, wanting to remind Forrester that Macy already knew my weaknesses, and that he was one of them. Instead, I placed one foot in front of the other.
“Don’t look so pale,” he demanded. “Be confident. Oh, and no matter what I say, show no surprise. He needs to think you are familiar with the information.”
“Yes, well, on that point—”
“Quiet. Just listen. Don’t eat or drink anything he offers. Once we are there, I can’t help you. You have to speak for yourself. Don’t attempt to help me either. Keep in mind, I have a pistol hidden on me.”
I faced him, suddenly desirous of some form of protection. Somehow I doubted Forrester himself was an option. “May I have it?”
“Can you shoot?” He reached inside his vest as though considering handing it over.
“No.”
He scowled, withdrawing his hand.
After a quarter hour of twigs snapping and an unsteady descent, we reached the stone lions, the entrance of Eastbourne. I hesitated, eyeing their silent warning growls as Forrester pounded up the steps and clattered the knocker.
Taking deep breaths, I glanced behind me at Maplecroft, glad that Edward was safe inside that thick fortress and not here. The large hinges groaned, and I turned in time to see Reynolds open the door.
A rush of affection filled me, and before I could help it, I stepped toward him.
“Mrs. Macy!” Delight filled his features. “Welcome home!”
Forrester chuckled as if finding humor in the greeting, then pulled me inside the golden, pillared hall. “Tell Macy we’re here.”
Once again the beauty of Eastbourne struck me. Dry-mouthed, I scanned the space, amazed that for the span of three or four hours I’d been its mistress. A flutter of doubt coursed through me. Why did Mr. Macy’s home effuse warmth, while Maplecroft lay under hoarfrost?
“Steady,” Forrester whispered, as if sensing my thoughts.
I felt despair. How
very different were the two lives offered me. One full of freedoms untold, petted and pampered; the other harsh and strict—but respectable. I clenched my skirts, refusing to believe those were the only two options available to me. I hoped against hope I might still manage to open yet a third option—a life with Edward.
As if proving how different from my father he was, Macy emerged from the passage that led in the direction of his study, dressed in black silk lounging pants and a robe made of the same material.
Heat rose through my cheeks as I tried not to note his bare chest.
Barefoot, he crossed to me and kissed my cheek, then gave Forrester a confused glance before returning to me. “Darling, you know I don’t care whom you take up with, but really, I must draw the line at Forrester.”
“Ha!” Forrester crossed his arms. “And here I hadn’t thought you capable of speaking truth.”
Macy’s eyes locked on him. I gave an involuntary shiver, for the very atmosphere snapped and sizzled as if lightning were about to strike. Slowly, Macy turned and gave me a questioning stare.
An awkward silence fell as I realized there was some sort of a hidden exchange happening; if I were to stay in this game, I needed to retort. Both men waited, but there was nothing I could say. I sensed much but knew little. Furthermore, though I had mentally prepared myself, I hadn’t factored in the effect that standing inside Eastbourne would have on me.
Macy noticeably loosened, then caressed my cheek. “The problem, Robert, is that you don’t understand Julia as well as I do. From that cocky expression on your face, you think she’s supplied you with some bit of information. Whatever she told you, I warrant it can’t be proved in court.” He withdrew his touch. “Still, you’ve returned my bride, so I’ll be lenient.”
“Well, good.” Forrester grinned. “Once we’ve had our say, we’ll try to repay your generosity.”
“We?” Macy shot me a shocked look. “Don’t tell me this buffoon talked you into one of his mad schemes.” His eyes mesmerized as he chuckled. “I can see caring for you will be a full-time job. If it’s not someone stealing your jewelry, it’s someone with a death wish asking you to join him. Come along, darling.” He laced his fingers in mine. “Let’s see how well you manage extortion. Shall we adjourn to the drawing room?”
Mark of Distinction Page 40
