Born of Persuasion (54 page)

Swearing was followed by the jangle of keys. Nancy shoved me outside the moment it opened and tugged the door shut behind me.

My heart raced in my throat as the man cast me a quick glance, relocking my chambers. Tension claimed his features as he returned his attention to the hall swallowed in darkness. I chose the first passage away from his sight.

I TURNED THE FIRST CORNER and slipped Nancy’s clogs from my feet. Using the bonnet to shield my face, I crept to the grand staircase and tiptoed down.

When my foot touched the bottom step, Mr. Macy’s voice carried from the end of the corridor, where an open door spilled a rectangle of yellow light onto the hall floor. His words were indistinguishable, but his soothing voice possessed a hypnotic quality, both sinister and alluring. I gripped the banister and paused, imagining him sprawled in a chair, fingers steepled before his nose, eyes fixed on his victim as he foretold in his seductive voice the coming horrors.

The ruthlessness I sensed behind his tender kisses moments ago now lurked behind the beauty of his voice. The incantation kept me transfixed, casting a finespun spell, making it impossible to move.
Dare I stir his wrath?
I wondered.
Last time, I had permission to leave.

During our childhood, Edward had once caught a robin and handed it to me to hold. Its heart thumped so rapidly against its breast, I thought it should die of fright. The beating in my own
chest could have matched it as I slipped down the passage leading to the front door.

Outdoors, wisps of fog writhed around my dress in serpentine coils. A raw wind stirred the rolling brume, making the estate an island amidst a boiling cauldron. On tiptoe, I strained to see past the ring of light surrounding the house. Darkness and shadow reigned.

Chest tight with fear, I peered into the gloom but discerned no shapes that resembled trees. Hadn’t Nancy said Edward would wait for me in the orchard?

I merged into the darkness, folding my arms for warmth. The moist air seeped through Nancy’s gown. I headed toward the back of the estate, concentrating to keep myself lower than the hedges. As my eyes adjusted, I detected the dark outline of trees. A light winked through branches—a wavering hope.

I cried with joy and love for Edward. Forcing my legs forward, I stumbled toward the glimpses of light. Now damp, my dress was plastered to my skin, but not even that slowed my movements. When my hand grasped the first tree, I nearly sobbed with relief.

“Edward?” I softly called into the night.

There was no answer.

“Edward, please.” I raised my voice. “Edward. Answer me!”

“Here!” he called, but his voice was strangely thick.

Branches snapped and leaves crunched nearby. The mist roiled as I clung to the tree, waiting. Dressed in his cassock, Edward walked toward me, but he staggered.

“I feared you wouldn’t be able to find me,” I said, hastening toward him.

“I’m here.” Grief filled his voice. “Here.”

He removed the familiar brown woollen coat and draped it over my shoulders.

It provided a barrier between Nancy’s homespun and the wintry air. The lantern swung as he pointed into the night. “We must make haste.”

A wind blew from the east, filled with the scent of wood fire and fir. Pine needles chafed when we turned from the woodlet into a thicket. Beneath our feet, soft mossy turf sank as we passed. Though his arm guided me, there was no embrace in it.

It was Edward, but a strange Edward. His eyes blazed with an intensity I’d never seen before. He supported me as we clambered up a steep bank, pebbles clattering behind us.

“Here, sir.” Henry’s driver peeked over the top of the bank, holding a lantern. He stretched out his hand.

Edward’s strong arm girded me as he accepted the help and scrambled to the top.

Finally able to pause, I turned to study Edward. I saw him, although nebulously. Damp curls rested against his pale face and his eyes were rimmed with red.

He untied Nancy’s bonnet, carefully searching my face. With a look of desperation, his gaze darted between the carriage and me. “Did he hurt you?” Before I could respond, he demanded louder, “Did he hurt you?”

I shook my head.

Edward sagged in relief, then handed me into the carriage. Stepping up behind me, he called out, “Drive!”

“’Tis no ordinary fog.” The driver’s voice sounded from the box seat. “Sure you want to risk it?”

Edward peered into the swirling mass. The murk had grown so thick it crept into the carriage, blanketing my feet. The lantern cast a shadow over the cleft of his chin as he stared at the mist.

“Yes,” he said in a hoarse voice. “We’ve no choice. Give the horses leave to find the path. Pray they can find their way through this mess. Head north.”

Edward climbed through the open door. I gripped his coat, pulling it around me, struggling to comprehend his mood.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “What happened?”

He emitted a harsh choking noise, and for a minute, I feared he couldn’t speak. “Churchill . . .” A sob rent him as he reached
for me and buried his face in my neck. His shoulders shook, and his breath was hot on my skin.

I clutched him, too bewildered to speak.

Before I could inquire, Edward asked, “Who would murder such a kind old man?”

It was only this afternoon that I’d sat across from him, having tea.

“Who would beat a feeble old man to death?”

I drew a sharp breath, recalling how carefully Mr. Macy had questioned me about Churchill. I shook my head, wanting to deny my own thought. Surely it was a coincidence. It couldn’t be linked to the man’s murder. It couldn’t be.

All at once, I realized how trying today must have been for Edward. He’d lost track of me, learned his mentor was murdered, and had probably spent the remainder of his time trying to piece together a rescue plan.

“Where’s Henry?” I asked.

Edward sat back, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “Forgive me,” he said. “I am overwrought.”

My ears rang as I realized I was missing something. Something horribly awry, horribly wrong. A vague feeling of terror crept over me as I tried to think of what. Then all at once I knew. I’d left Nancy locked in a room waiting for Mr. Macy.

The thought was so monstrous, I felt both hot and cold.

“Stop the carriage.” I raised my voice to a scream. “Stop the carriage.”

The driver obeyed, and I stumbled into the cottony wisps. Edward hopped down after me and grabbed my hand.

“Let me go. Let me go!” I tore from his grasp so violently, I lost balance and fell to the road. Pebbles embedded in my hands. I covered my mouth, trying to hold on to the last shreds of sanity.

“Juls?” Edward knelt beside me.

“I’ve got to go back. I’ve got to. You don’t understand.” And
then I told Edward about my time with Mr. Macy and how intimidated I’d felt as he questioned me about Churchill.

Arms wrapped me from behind as Edward knelt, gathering me from the marshy ground to settle me against his chest. “We can’t go back,” his voice lulled as he cradled me. “By now she’s probably been discovered and it will do no good. We need to get you away from here.”

I clutched the back of his cassock as I sobbed into his sinewy chest. His clothing smelled like smoke, not the sooty scent of a coal fire, but of burning wood. How many times had he smelled of campfire when we were younger? I clung to him, wanting to go back, wanting to be twelve again, when my only worry was that Mama or Sarah might find us.

“Come on.” Edward helped me to my feet. “We haven’t time. We’ve got to move.”

I gave a bitter laugh. “Where do you think we can go?”

“As far north in Scotland as we can get,” he replied.

“He’ll find us,” I said. “I’ve already told him about my vote to go there.”

When his brows knit together, I held up a hand for silence. “Please, let me think.”

In quick succession, I combed my mind for other possibilities. We couldn’t stay in Edward’s parish any longer. I considered using the papers my guardian had given me to withdraw a tidy sum. But I’d have to go to Mr. Graves, and that would delay us—besides, I feared I was now a bane to everyone I touched.

With a slow movement, I turned and looked at Edward.

The slant of his shoulders made him appear worn and weary. The desperation in his eyes worried me.

All at once, I realized I’d won the battle—when forced to choose between his faith and me, Edward had chosen me. But I felt no victory.

“It won’t work, Edward, and you know it. We have no living, no money, and would live every day of our lives in fear of
discovery. We’d be starting with nothing, without friendship or support. Besides, we both know you’d be miserable. You can’t go against your convictions without it destroying you.”

“I’m not leaving you alone in this.”

I tucked my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms about them, knowing he’d be stubborn. I considered using his parish as an argument, which made me wonder how many unseen lives hung in the balance of the decisions we were making. How many souls depended upon Edward?

Churchill’s rebuke came fresh to my mind, strengthening my resolve.
“Had you a shred of love for Edward, you would release him. Only the most selfish sort of person drags someone else down with him as he drowns.”

My throat ached as I acknowledged that the only noble thing to do was to release Edward.

I took a deep breath to quell my despair. How, after a lifetime of being ostracized, had I found myself here again? Especially when all I had tried to do was escape this fate? I gave a disbelieving laugh. I didn’t even have family left.

Yet that thought wasn’t true, and I knew it. There was still Lord Pierson.

My next idea went against all rationale, all prior experiences. Every fiber of my body rose up with a strong cry that there might be one more chance. One more chance to be free of Mr. Macy.

I clutched Edward’s sleeve, scarcely able to believe what I was considering. “How powerful is my father?”

Edward blinked with confusion. “Your father? You mean Lord Pierson?”

I nodded, recalling Mr. Addams’s descriptions. “Do you think, if he chose to, he’d be able to protect me from Mr. Macy?”

“He’s powerful enough to.” Edward’s answer was measured. “His reputation is that of being one of the most fair and upstanding members in the House of Lords. Why?”

“Take me to him.”

TWO NIGHTS LATER, well past midnight, we arrived at my father’s estate. Maplecroft sat under the watery light of the moon. The estate looked every bit as august as Eastbourne, only instead of sprawling with centuries of architecture, it was a fortress of perfect geometric precision. The end towers rose in defiance against the night sky. Twenty or more chimneys rose above the roof, putting me in mind of sentries guarding a castle.

Edward climbed out first and studied it with trepidation, but when he reached back and offered me his hand, he gave me a smile of encouragement. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” he said as my feet hit the ground, “no one’s anger would be as kindled as his was that night at Eastbourne, if he hadn’t lost something precious to him.”

I clutched my stomach, wanting to believe him but not quite able to.

“It’s going to be okay, Juls,” he said. “If anyone has the persistence to win him over, it’s you.”

I took a deep breath and faced the estate in slight wonderment
that the man who had fathered me lived in such magnificence. “Edward, what if his wife doesn’t know about me?”

He looked surprised that I asked the question, and then said, “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. The papers always like to remind the public that he puts England first because he has no one else. I believe he’s been a widower for many years.”

His words birthed a new hope in me as I took in the estate anew.

He too was alone. Perhaps my task wasn’t impossible.

We stood another minute, hand in hand, too daunted to approach. Edward gained courage first. “Come on.”

Keeping our fingers locked, we marched to the front door. Edward hesitated before lifting the massive knocker and striking it against the door. On my right, engraved on a polished brass plaque, the word
Maplecroft
gleamed in the moonlight.