I stabbed a bite of melon as my father skipped the Times and selected the second paper. I did not raise my fork, however, for I feared the queen had died as I caught sight of his face.
He aged a decade in the span of a minute, then speechlessly laid down the newspaper and withdrew to the window.
Wide-eyed, Isaac and I leaned forward. The front page of the Morning Gazette had a likeness of Isaac and me. The artist had a good hand, for the images were true. The article that followed outlined how Isaac learned that I had a secret engagement to a vicar and had heroically stepped aside, sacrificing his happiness for mine. The story highlighted Isaac, praising and congratulating him on this act and on his political views. Edward’s name wasn’t mentioned.
My composure broke as I read it. I frantically shook my head, trying to communicate that I hadn’t known about this. My father came back and laid a hand on Isaac’s shoulder before I’d finished. My father looked broken. Isaac was worse. I’d never seen him so pulverized. He looked at me, and I knew then he had wanted me as his wife, not for my money, not because of my father, but because he loved me in his own way. Stunned, anguished, he met me with a look that asked how I could do that to him.
Forrester entered and scowled. “What is she sobbing about now?”
Instead of roaring and throwing Forrester from the house for the article, my father pointed at it as though he couldn’t speak or move.
Forrester grabbed the pages from Isaac and read. Anger contorted his face before he screamed, “You little hussy! You switched the articles in my saddlebag, didn’t you!”
I stared at Forrester, absolutely flabbergasted. “You know I didn’t! Tell them! Tell them the truth!”
“When this reverend fellow wakes,” my father finally said, “let him have her. Let him remove her from my house. Let me never lay eyes on her again.”
“Sir,” Isaac said, his voice strained.
“Isaac, I’m sorry,” my father said. “I have nothing to offer you now.”
“That’s not what I meant. She needs you, sir.”
I cringed, feeling more wretched than if he had shouted at me. My father didn’t answer but exited the room, leaving a carved-out feeling in my chest. Isaac scooted his chair back and attempted to speak but failed. Though he worked to stay composed, he managed only a nod before he left.
I stared at my hands, which were scraped from climbing the hill last night and still dirty, even though I’d scrubbed them for ten minutes.
Forrester moved near me and said in a soft voice, “The worst is over. Go to your vicar. Sit with him. Your father will come around eventually. He’ll like Edward once he learns his nature.”
Too stunned to do anything else, I followed his advice.
Edward’s room felt humid as I slipped inside and pulled a chair near his bed. His hair was damp and his breathing abrasive. I rested my head on his shoulder, then took his hand and intertwined my fingers in his, waiting.
There was no end of surprises those next three days. Edward awoke that night to the news that he was to marry the richest heiress in England, and that Lord Pierson had paused dinner—something hitherto unheard of—as he wished to interview his future son-in-law.
Word that my father had granted me permission to marry the vicar from my school—and that a hasty but private wedding was planned—spread through the neighborhood. Maplecroft was besieged by curious busybodies and genuine well-wishers.
Lady Dalry presented me with her mother’s tatted veil.
Kate picked my bridal bouquet, a handful of crocuses tied with ribbon.
My wedding dress, however, was the most unexpected and extravagant gift of them all. Evelyn Greenley arrived past gloaming the eve of my wedding. Her fingers trembled as she peeled back tissue paper, revealing a billowing ivory gown of silk from the House of Doucet in Paris. Agony scripted her face as she handed over what was to have been her wedding dress. Trembling, she fled back into the night.
The next morning, my veil fluttered against my face as I climbed the church steps and entered the chapel. In vain I searched for Isaac. His absence was palpable, but I had no chance to dwell on it. My father started me down the aisle.
Edward waited, bathed in the golden rays of the sun at the front of the small chapel. Honey-colored curls fell over his brow as he gave me a slight bow. Here was the one soul I could not endure separation from and, indeed, I think I was not meant to live without.
The warmth of his hand imbued mine as we knelt to be wed.
I find it humorous that I spent both of my wedding nights in a carriage, travelling. Immediately following our wedding, Edward announced that Henry and Elizabeth’s nuptials were forthcoming and we were leaving posthaste. My father, though he had declared he wished me removed from his life, did not approve of Edward’s plans, but there was nothing he could do.
Thus, Edward and I presently disembarked from one of my father’s unmarked carriages to the homey sight of warm, yellow light spilling from Am Meer’s windows. The cottage looked so minuscule, compared to the great houses I’d lived in, that at first I laughed.
Through the open drapes, I spotted Henry, Elizabeth, and Mrs. Windham in animated discussion. Mrs. Windham was having some sort of a crying fit, and no amount of coaxing seemed to be helping.
“No wonder they didn’t hear the carriage,” Edward said, approaching.
I had to bury my face in his chest, I was so happy. The room was shabby but unplagued by the worries of society. I could almost smell the lilac of Mrs. Windham’s powder and feel the lumpiness of the maroon chair.
I picked up my skirts, ready to pound on the door with its chipped blue paint and demand entrance, but Edward caught my arm. “If we go inside, we’ll be trapped for hours. We’re only here to tell them I’m back and can marry them, if they still wish. They must be wondering what happened to me.”
“You mean you didn’t tell them where you were going?” I asked.
“No. Henry was already insisting we barge into your father’s house and kidnap you, so I did it my way.” He grinned, then bent and scooped up a handful of pebbles, which he threw lightly at the window.
As the pebbles skidded off glass, Mrs. Windham ceased her tears and gave the window an angry glare. A second later, Henry stuck his head out the window, squinting.
“Stay here,” Edward whispered, then stepped out from the shadow of the carriage.
Henry gave a whoop, and a moment later, he emerged from Am Meer, followed by Elizabeth and Mrs. Windham. “Have you any idea what you put us through! Elizabeth and I have spent days searching for someone to marry us. I have half a mind to box you. Don’t just stand there with that daft smile. Explain yourself.”
Edward gestured in my direction. “Henry, I’d like to present to you my wife.”
Feeling suddenly shy, I stepped forward.
I had not realized how much I’d changed until I saw Elizabeth and Mrs. Windham gaping at me. Then, after taking a tentative step forward and studying me, Elizabeth screamed and flung herself into my arms. Our foursome talked all at once. I was passed from Elizabeth to Mrs. Windham, who thankfully remained too shocked to speak.
Henry received me last and lifted me in a bear hug. “I should have known Edward went after you.” Setting me on my feet, he turned to Edward. “You should have told me!”
Edward reached out and pulled me back toward him as if he couldn’t bear the distance either. “It’s of no matter. It’s done now, and I kept my promise to be back for your wedding.”
“Oh, you must leave Julia with us for the night,” Mrs. Windham said, finally recovering enough to speak and signalling with her handkerchief for me to come to her. “It will give you time to explain it to your parents. Besides, she and Elizabeth must have a lot to talk on.”
“Not a chance.” Edward wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer.
Henry was the only one who chuckled, guessing the reason. “Where are you going now?”
“To my room in the church.”
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“Ed! You can’t take her there!”
“Oh yes, I can! We’ll see you all in the morning,” Edward called over his shoulder as he pulled me into the night.
Edward fumbled with the key in dark shadows before the church door opened. Moonlight graced his smile as he tugged me inside. The simple wood pews and hymnals could be seen in the weak light.
“My room is in the back.” Edward started us down the aisle.
It felt strange to think that we were going to sleep in a church. More than sleep! I felt my blush start to rise. Feeling timid, I allowed him to lead me to a door behind the pulpit. At first I couldn’t see the room, but Edward lit a match and set it to the wick of a lumpy candle.
“It’s not much,” Edward said.
I pulled at the ribbon of my bonnet, smiling. It was awful and wonderful together. There was a bed meant for one. The space felt as barren as a monk’s cell. He crouched over the hearth and added some tinder from a basket. “It’s cold. I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t help but grin when I viewed the chamber. Of all the men in my life, Edward offered me the humblest circumstances, but I adored them.
In the dim light cast by the fledgling fire, he helped me from my cape. His kisses were different from Macy’s. They weren’t sophisticated, but inexperienced. Yet no shyness tinged his actions as his hands fumbled over the hooks and buttons on my dress.
I already knew we were better suited than any other couple I’d ever encountered, but that night, as he lowered me to his bed, his eyes held depths of emotion that would have unmade any soul. By the time my head was laid into his pillow, the fire blazed.
Later, in Edward’s arms, I watched the dying embers. I wanted to lie awake with joy the entire night. I belonged. I had family again. I had married the man I’d dreamed about since my childhood. The boy I’d loved since the day we’d met. And he loved me too. Even in sleep, he secured me against him. Every time I stirred, he’d half wake and draw me closer, nestling kisses in my hair. His chest rasped, but he was on the mend. I knew.
Closing my eyes, I thanked God, my heart too full to bear more happiness. That night, I was too secure to fear Macy. The next day, Elizabeth, my friend, would become my sister. Henry was hours from becoming my brother. My life had been handed back to me. I squirmed, knowing it would stir Edward. He nuzzled my neck and mumbled something that could have been, “Can’t sleep?”
No, Edward, I thought, I’m too happy.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am so grateful for the lovely souls who participated in the making of this book.
A special thanks to Elizabeth Ludwig, Michelle Griep, Ane Mulligan, and Gina Holmes. I couldn’t ask for a more special and faithful group of ladies to walk this journey with.
Thank you to the Tyndale team—Stephanie Broene, for her managing skills; Caleb Sjogren, for his thought-provoking edits and labor to capture the vision; and Julie Dumler and her incredible marketing and PR team. I am honored to have worked alongside you.
I am so blessed to call Wanda Wright, Kelli Reed, Star Marcum, Joy Shind, Laine Barley, and Annie Masters friends. Your encouragement, feedback, and help during deadlines were such an incredible blessing.
Thank you especially, Anna and Howard Vosburgh. Your help and friendship are invaluable, especially the way you helped me avoid slang in the editing process as we bibbled and xertzed coffee.
Lastly, to my beautiful, shining daughter—thank you for sharing those precious pieces of your childhood with me during this creative process. You bless me more than you’ll ever know.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
Throughout the story, Julia longs to win her father’s love and approval, to no avail. Can you think of an example of someone (perhaps yourself) pursuing love and affection from those who don’t reciprocate? In Julia’s situation, how would you advise her to proceed?
We often attribute suffering to sin and blessings to God’s favor, but 1 Peter speaks of Christians being called to suffer. To what degree is Julia’s suffering a result of her own choices versus the sovereign will of God? What does she learn about God’s will through her suffering? How ought we to respond to suffering in our own lives? Can you think of an example from your life where good has come from a difficult situation?
Like most young adults, Julia has different goals for her life than her father does. In today’s era, how would you advise teens who are strongly opposed to their parents’ will? In chapter 22, Julia reads some Scripture passages about children obeying their parents, and these verses give her pause. How would you explain passages like these? (For instance, see Ephesians 6:1.) How would you advise wives when they are opposed to their husbands’ leadership? Compare and contrast the differences between these scenarios.
How do we decide when to step in and cover someone else’s mistakes? How might this book have been different had Julia, from the start, refused to go along with her father’s lie about her family history? Do you think Julia is right or wrong in her choice? Are Lord Pierson and Isaac right or wrong to intervene in Julia’s life?
Lord Pierson consistently treats Julia according to her faults, while Isaac seeks to treat people as if they have become what they are meant to be. How do these contrasting perspectives impact the individuals involved? Does the way we treat and view people affect how they behave and what they become? Can you think of an example from your own experience?
Discuss the differences between Lord Pierson’s relationship with Isaac and his relationship with Julia. How much can be attributed to Victorian-era views of men and women, and how much is a reflection of Pierson’s own personality and choices?
A theme that runs through the Price of Privilege trilogy is Julia’s self-determination—discovering what choices and actions are truly available to her. At one point near the end of this book, after surrendering her life to God, Julia wrestles with whether partnering with Forrester indicates a lack of trust in God’s sovereignty. How does surrendering to God’s will differ from passively relinquishing all responsibility? When should we act, and when should we wait on God? How can we tell which is appropriate in a situation? What are some of the hardest things about surrendering to God?
What do you think the future holds for Julia, Edward, Lord Pierson, Isaac, and Macy in the final book of the trilogy? What do you hope will happen? What do you fear will happen?
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. She lives in the Nashville area with her family and works as a freelance media consultant and publicist.
Jessica is always happy to accept tea invitations from book clubs, especially when they serve Earl Grey and scones.
Visit Jessica’s website at www.jessicadotta.com.
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