Born of Persuasion (46 page)

I pressed against the wall, unable to remove my sight from the red caking his hands.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered. “You mustn’t believe what John said.” He stepped closer, but cringed when I shrank from his touch. He wiped his hand over his trousers, looking miserable. When he knelt, his nose trickled blood again. “Rooke, keep my wife safe. I’m going to change.” Then to me, in the kindest of voices, “Nothing will happen to you in my absence.”

As the doors swung shut, I caught a glimpse of him giving instructions to Reynolds.

I hugged myself. I felt weary, wearier than I’d ever been. I rubbed my throbbing forehead with my fingertips, listening to the low hum of whispering. The doors opened, but instead of Mr. Macy, a middle-aged man entered with a leather satchel. He handed the bag to my guardian, who looked in my direction.

“Can you drink this?” Edward knelt with a glass of claret. His tone was kinder.

Shame kept me from looking at him.

“Juls,” Edward said softly.

I heard him, but the words were far away, as if he were speaking into an ear horn on the other side of the chamber. I blinked, trying to focus. My layers of skirts shifted as he knelt upon them.

“Jane Canton’s wedding?” He whispered urgently. “Think hard. Do you remember our conversation in the hay field?”

I faced him. My life had crumbled, and he wanted me to remember something that happened over a decade ago when we had spied on a wedding? Yet even as I resisted that idea, images of a young bride came to mind—a thick garland of orange buckthorn berries atop her head, the way afternoon sun touched her yellow gown, making it glow. Yet it wasn’t her beauty that stood out; it was her red-rimmed eyes, her pale face, and the whiteness of her lips as she approached the church. It was clear, even from our vantage, that the marriage was a great tragedy.

“Why doesn’t she run?” Elizabeth had whispered, looking at Henry.

We all turned toward him. In our youth, Henry, the oldest, was expected to explain the unexplainable. He scowled, pressing his lips together as the young bride’s brother ran up the steps and obediently held open the door.

It was impossible not to see there was something haunting about her poise and grace as she accepted the inevitable. No heroine staring at the scaffold could have been statelier.

“Run,” Elizabeth whispered, clutching fistfuls of grass, using her toes to push herself forward. “Don’t just stand there,” she urged the bride. “Take flight!”

Like me, Henry must have scanned the faces of those surrounding her. Anger glinted in their eyes and hardness formed the downward slant of their mouths.

“She can’t,” Henry finally concluded for us, turning on his back, as if disgusted. “There isn’t anyone to help her.”

Even as I looked at Edward that night in Eastbourne, I felt the same stirring I’d encountered in the sanctuary. Edward waited, silently, willing me to remember.

Gooseflesh rose along my arms as I understood what Edward was communicating. It wasn’t practical and the odds were too astronomical to believe, but we’d already planned for this very event. The four of us had spent that entire afternoon imagining how to escape a wedding.

The idea birthed swiftly, like a mother’s sixth babe, born while the midwife’s back is turned. I only had time to meet Edward’s gaze and nod—I understood. I wanted to flee.

“My things?” I whispered as my guardian broke from the men.

Edward gave a slight shake of his head.

To leave behind all of one’s possessions is a more difficult task than one envisions. The moment one detects the smell of smoke in the house, most people do not dutifully exit, but quickly rummage through desk drawers and jewelry boxes, saving the irreplaceable. With the tips of my fingers, I touched the cold emeralds encrusting my necklace, cognizant that Mama’s locket was in my bedchamber. It contained my only portrait of her.

While I adjusted, my guardian’s shoes appeared in my view. “I wish to speak with you. What I have to say doesn’t concern others. You may leave now, Reverend Auburn.” To me, “Can you recommend a place for our conversation?”

Edward nodded for me to comply, but the green of his eyes slid across the dining room, in the direction of the stables, telling me where he’d be.

I gave him a nod, telling him I understood, then pointed to the chamber where her ladyship had taken me my first night. “There’s a small room off the hall. We can talk there.”

The chamber looked much as it had the night of my arrival. Heavy beams combined with the ancient weapons made it appear spartan. My guardian moved with disgust toward the stiff leather and horsehair chairs lined before the stone mantel.

“I despise Eastbourne.” My guardian’s gaze roamed over the pockmarked weapons. “You never can tell what really belongs to him or what’s been extorted.”

I collapsed into a chair, feeling cheeks burning. Though Mr. Macy admitted he’d blackmailed, until then I’d paid no heed as to how the riches of my future home had been achieved.

“I wondered if you had the capacity of blushing.” My guardian took a seat. “Never have I seen such a nauseating show from a lass in my entire life. What sort of creature did Lucy raise?”

I leaned against the chair, hardening my emotions at the mention of Mama’s first name.

“Only the memory of your mother stays my hand of wrath.” My guardian growled out each word. “It would serve you right if I gave you no means to live apart from Macy.”

My guardian pulled out a folded paper and slammed it on the seat next to him. “When your mother married William, I agreed to give you one of my emerald mines. You wear stones from it tonight. Here is the paperwork.”

I gazed at the vivid green ring upon my finger, recalling how I’d once overheard Mama state she didn’t dare wear the stones; the distinct color was too recognizable. Understanding grew as to how Mr. Forrester had guessed my identity.

“There’s also a handsome living left to you from my mother.” He pounded another paper over the first. “She learned of your existence and took pity. I’m glad she died, sparing herself the knowledge of how shameless you are.”

I met his cold look. I detested him, as much as if he had killed my mother. “How would you know what I am?”

“Macy claims you’ve spent your nights with him. Did you?”

His question stunned me as I realized he thought me brazen. Later, I decided, much later, I would evaluate this situation. “Yes, I did.”

My guardian looked about to strike me, only instead he flexed his hands. “There’s some money I’ve put aside over the years, as well as your father’s living and estate, though I confess, I’m surprised at how poorly your father managed his money.”

“William is not my father.”

“Neither am I.” My guardian returned my stony gaze with one of granite. “As far as I am concerned, you are dead.”

I crossed my arms and legs, then kicked my foot in small circles. My eyes stung, my throat closed, but I would never give this man the satisfaction of seeing me wounded.

“I’m leaving.” He rose and wiped his hands together. “I suggest you hire someone to handle your finances. The account is yours. I will keep a falsified name on it, giving you the means to live apart from Macy, if need be. Though now that he’s accomplished his goal of injuring me, I doubt he will bother you.”

“Good riddance.” At least my voice didn’t betray my pain. I gritted my teeth until they hurt. “Had I known that was his goal, I would have helped more.”

My guardian stared at me as though repulsed. “Never show your face to me again.”

When the door slammed, I gasped for breath and stared at the door. Panic needled my veins. I needed to locate Edward before Macy found me.

At least I had the presence of mind to scoop up the papers and deposit them into the satchel. My guardian must have stalked straight from the chamber, through the dining room, and out the door, for the men were all gone. The room was empty.

I stepped over the threshold of the dining room and paused, too shaky to continue. Footsteps rang through the entrance hall.
Certain it must be Macy, for the count of several seconds, I registered only fear.

I sobbed relief when a rain-soaked Edward appeared at the door on the other side of the room. Upon spotting me, he placed a finger to his lips, then signalled me to approach.

Had Mr. Macy arrived first, I am uncertain how I would have reacted. It is devastating enough to lose trust in a person—but to have placed myself in the hands of Mama’s murderer was more than I could handle.

Edward likewise was on edge as he pulled me against his chest and backed us toward the door. His nostrils flared as he glared toward the darkened part of Eastbourne.

It wasn’t until Mr. Macy sauntered into the light from a dark passage that I realized he was there. He wore a clean white shirt, untucked. His face had been washed and his wet hair combed back.

“Really now, Edward,” he said, his tone tranquil. “I would have expected better from you than to steal another man’s wife.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, turning my face against Edward’s chest.

“Julia,” Mr. Macy’s voice soothed. “Are you now afraid? Have I not sworn my protection over you? Come to me. No harm will come to you. We need to talk.”

I tugged on the lapels of Edward’s frock coat, begging him to remove us.

“Sweetheart,” Mr. Macy coaxed. I opened my eyes in time to see him extend his hand. “Have I ever given you reason to doubt my love? What did your father say?”

Edward let out an angry laugh, taking a step backwards. “Never mind what was discussed. Back away! She’s coming with me!”

Mr. Macy paid no attention to Edward. His singular gaze was fixed on me. His expression was a mixture of concern and pity. “Is it your desire to leave Eastbourne?”

I nodded once.

Mr. Macy held up both hands and, with the gentlest of movements, stepped forward. “All right. I’ll wait until you’re ready to talk. I promise you this: whatever Roy said was tainted. We’ve been enemies for years now. And John—”

“Don’t you dare speak to us!” Edward yelled, taking us another step back.

“I don’t think you’ve quite grasped the dynamics of this yet,” Mr. Macy said quietly, turning his head to view Edward. “Allow me to make this plain. I’m tolerating you, Edward, because I fear it might unhinge my wife to rive the two of you apart, just yet. But do not mistake my mercy as permission to take part in our conversations. This is between Julia and me.”

His words stole my breath.

Edward almost crushed me as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “We’re leaving now. Make no attempt to follow us.”

My feet barely touched the floor as Edward hurried me from the room. With a firm grip on my arm, he led me through numerous passages. In his other hand, he gripped the leather satchel of papers my guardian had given me.

Five minutes later found me in the stable yard, with rain racing down my hair and dripping off my chin. I ran my tongue over my lip, unable to taste the saltiness of my tears. The water cascading from the roofline made the orders Edward shouted to the coachman impossible to hear.

I stood numb in the mud. Edward glanced back at me every few seconds, damp hair sticking to his forehead, as if he feared I’d disappear.

“Come on!” Edward shouted over the percussion, sloshing through the puddles to fetch me. “We’ve got to hurry. I don’t trust him.”

Cold water streamed down my neck and into my bodice as Edward braced my upper arm, leading me to the carriage. I climbed in and collapsed on the velvet seat, staining the
upholstery and dripping puddles on the floor, representing one more thing I’d ruined that night.

The vehicle swayed as Edward grabbed the bars and swung in. He sat opposite me and silently watched me cry. Whether it was with pity or apathy, I could not discern.

WE ARRIVED at our destination the following day before noon. My eyes burned with weariness as I studied the homestead where Edward had taken us. The frost that had glittered over the landscape earlier that morning had dissolved, leaving behind piebald patches of mud and dead grass.

Behind a wooden fence, a russet-colored cottage waited, enshrouded in a thick, brown fog. Smoke curled lazily from its chimney.