Born of Persuasion (55 page)

Wind stirred my skirts, and I looked over my shoulder, surprised to find the outline of Eastbourne visible at the bottom of the ravine. A lone light was visible in the vast estate. Seeing that watery light made me tighten my hold on Edward’s hand.

The scraping sounds of bolts turned my thoughts.

“Remember,” Edward whispered, slipping his arm in mine, pulling me tight, “allow me to reason with him. Let me act as mediator.”

I nodded as the door swung inward, revealing a man in a green satin robe, clutching a candle as thick as his forearm. The flickering light revealed hooded eyes.

Edward bowed. “We request an audience with the master of the house on urgent business.”

With an arrogant snort, the man started to shut us out.

Edward wedged his foot in the door. “We will not quit this property until we have seen him.”

“Lord Pierson is away and not expected back for another fortnight.”

“Then we need to know where he’s gone,” Edward insisted.
“It is Lord Pierson’s daughter who asks. She is seeking his protection.”

The nameless man’s gaze wandered to me. “Stand in the archway, by the door. Touch nothing.”

I nodded, and he shut the door behind us. The flame wavered as he crossed the foyer and ascended the staircase. At the top he turned right, disappearing down a passage, leaving us in near darkness. Three stories above us, a domed skylight showed passing clouds illuminated by the moon.

The monotone ticking of clocks from various rooms blended into dissonance. My breathing sounded loud, and I squeezed the folds of my skirt, shifting my weight. Above, the sound of a door closing was followed by solitary footsteps.

Instead of Lord Pierson, however, a young man appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing a rich dressing gown and carrying a candle. The dour-looking servant followed him.

Edward and I kept our hands entwined as we listened to the cadence of their descending footsteps.

The young man reached us first and studied me with an incredulous look. “That’s astounding,” he said. “You look just like her.” He laughed, a warm, golden laugh, then sobered.

He inclined, looking between Edward and myself with wonderment. “Forgive me my unorthodox greeting. Here, let us adjourn to the drawing room.” He indicated a room on his right.

He faced the servant. “Simmons, have James woken. I want him to serve us.”

With a scowl, the older man obeyed. I watched his retreating form, recalling the ridiculous argument Mrs. Windham and Elizabeth had about whether his name was Simmons or Simon. How unimportant it seemed now.

“Here, this way,” the gentleman said. “Please.”

We entered a room cloaked in darkness. The gentleman lit several lamps, then kindled a fire. He tugged on a bell pull and then turned. “Forgive me.” He gestured to a chair. “I forget my
manners. I’m—” he shook his head—“I’m shocked that you’re actually here. Lord Pierson was expecting you. He left instructions for your arrival.”

I cast an uncertain look at Edward.

“I’m sorry,” Edward finally said, “but you are . . . ?”

“Lord Dalry,” the young man stated, “but please, call me Isaac.”

“Lord Dalry!” Edward took a step back in astonishment before giving him a slight bow. “Good heavens, forgive me. I had no idea.”

The young man frowned, as though embarrassed. “Please, call me Isaac. Have a seat.”

Strictness pervaded the drawing room we occupied. The ceilings were high and papered, the windows layered in brocade and silks. A grand pianoforte sat at the far end.

I stared at the books arranged in perfect order on the shelves. Footstools sat equidistant from the chairs, as if they’d been measured and lives depended upon keeping them perfect. There were no indentations in the carpet to suggest anything ever moved.

A footman arrived, freshly awoken as evidenced by his misbuttoned shirt and wetted hair. “Simmons said you requested me, sir?”

“Thank you, James. We’ve guests. Please bring a light tea,” Lord Dalry ordered.

The footman gave him an incredulous look. “In the drawing room at three in the morning?”

Lord Dalry grinned. “Oh yes, in the drawing room!” He rubbed his hands together. “We’re going to bend all sorts of rules tonight. And I don’t fancy doing so on an empty stomach.”

The footman bowed and retreated.

“Now to business,” Lord Dalry said. “I’m authorized to extend Lord Pierson’s protection, and from what I understand, I need to extend his apology as well.” His smile looked practiced
as he faced me. “Had your father shown you any mercy that night, Macy would have injured you further, as a means of further exploiting him. It was for your own protection that he acted as such.”

I lowered my gaze, not wanting him to see the effect his words had on me.

“Where is Lord Pierson?” Edward asked.

“He’s with a group of men who are working to do something regarding Macy.” Lord Dalry tapped his fingertips together twice, as if considering how much more to say. Lowering his tone, he decided upon, “They’re very close to proving that Macy is Adolphus.”

I sank against the back of my chair, amazed at how hated that name already was. I glanced at Edward to see how he took the information. During the last two days, I’d learned that Churchill had been like a father to him.

The footman returned with a large tray, which he placed on the table.

“Please.” Lord Dalry gestured to the spread. “Help yourself.”

“Are you hungry, Juls?” Edward asked, ready to fix me a plate.

I shook my head, suddenly desirous of being alone.

Lord Dalry rose. “Forgive me. I imagine you both must be very fatigued. Lord Pierson believed you’d only come here as a last resort, in desperation, if you will.” He looked at my dress, as if noticing it for the first time. “Perhaps I was too eager in my greeting. I warrant the both of you would prefer to sleep first. Have you luggage?”

Edward shot him a vexed look as he also stood and grasped my arm. “She has nothing.”

Lord Dalry remained unruffled by Edward’s demeanor. “James,” he said over his shoulder, “please fetch Simmons and let him know that our guests are ready for bed.” Then to us, “Perhaps explanations can wait until morning.”

A few minutes later, Simmons reappeared.

“Take the girl to Lady Pierson’s room,” Lord Dalry instructed. “I’ll show the reverend to the guest chamber nearest mine.”

Simmons grabbed a candle and made motion for me to follow him. He returned through the main hall, then trudged up the stairs, never looking behind. I followed, glancing once at Edward.

At the top, Simmons turned left and opened the door at the end of the corridor. The candlelight illuminated an ornate four-poster bed. Excessive draperies adorned the windows. They looked tawdry, even in the dark.

“The late Lady Pierson’s room,” Simmons said, a sour note in his voice.

I gave him a nod of thanks, then crawled into the bed.

I awoke later that morning to the scent of lavender and jasmine. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a room smothered with gold-textured silks and gaudy furniture. Sun poured through heavy lace covering the window and moved in waves amongst the intricate patterns over the carpet.

I slid from the massive bed and walked to the window. Eastbourne sat at the bottom of a steep ravine. From where I stood, it no longer looked like a grand estate in the process of repair but like something once lovely, now decaying. With quiet dismay, I scanned the protruding architecture and gargoyles, then yanked the lace panel back in place and turned to face the room again.

A washstand stood behind an elaborately embroidered silk screen. Though it was stocked with tooth and nail brushes, towels, and soaps, there was no water in the porcelain basin. I searched the chamber for a bell pull but was unable to locate it amongst the lavish decoration.

I had tended myself for too many years to feel dismay.

I shed Nancy’s coarse dress and placed it on the silken
bedclothes. My throat smarted as I wondered what had happened to her. I swallowed, hoping I could give Edward a message to relay to her.

I gathered and pulled my hair over my shoulder, then opened the wardrobe. The scent of heavy perfume stung my nose as I looked through the late Lady Pierson’s dresses. She must have been stout, for nothing looked like it would fit me. I envisioned Nancy frowning at what little there was to work with.

A knock on the door was followed by the entrance of a middle-aged woman, who was no taller than my shoulder. Behind her, two maids followed. She bobbed, and the maids bobbed.

“I’m Mrs. Coleman, the housekeeper,” she announced. She stared at Nancy’s dress spread over the bed. The wrinkles around her mouth tightened as she viewed the empty fire grate.

I drew in a breath, knowing I looked beggarly. Then, recalling Edward’s refusal to put on airs, I straightened. I eyed the girls behind Mrs. Coleman, deciding their dresses were suitable enough for me. “Good morning,” I said. “As you can see, I have no belongings. I wonder if perhaps there is someone my size on staff, someone willing to lend me a dress? I fear nothing here fits me.”

Mrs. Coleman blinked four times before finding her voice. “I grant you,” she said, entering the chamber, “you’re more petite than your mother, but we can manage.” She proceeded around me and pulled a billowing, ivory brocade dress from the wardrobe.

It took both maids and the housekeeper to lower the grand dress over my head. With deft fingers, they made tucks and pinned them, then removed the gown. One of the maids bundled it in her arms, and with her chin to her chest, scurried from the room. When she exited, two more maids entered with steaming pitchers, which they carried into the room before giving me half curtsies and leaving.

For an excruciating length of time, Mrs. Coleman washed my arms and legs. The remaining maid brushed and oiled my hair and then styled braids that looped and interwove into each other. The dress arrived while Mrs. Coleman was perfuming and powdering me. When she opened a large jewelry box, I noticed the majority were emeralds. She selected an expensive set, including combs encrusted with diamonds.

“Won’t Lord Pierson—I mean, my father—object?” I asked when the maid shoved them into my hairstyle.

Mrs. Coleman cast the maids a warning look when they expressed surprise, then primly responded, “Perhaps the vicar at your school stressed the importance of humility, but now you’re a reflection of your father’s status.”

Her response astonished me to speechlessness, but there wasn’t time to inquire. When they finished, I rose, nodding my thanks, surprised at the weight of the gown.

Outside my door, more maids stood with fresh linens. They bobbed as I sailed past them. When they entered my room, I raced down the hall toward the grand staircase.

I found what I sought immediately. At the bottom of the stairs, Edward waited beneath life-size portraits, leaning over his Bible. He failed to notice me at first as he sat, legs crossed, his brow furrowed.

Above, light poured through the vaulted ceiling’s dome. Marble floors, azure-colored walls, and white baroque trim greeted my eyes. The huge staircase curved at the bottom. Portraits lined the lower hall and steps.

My heart felt like it would burst as I pattered down the stairs to him.

Before I reached him, however, I was arrested by the sight of one portrait in particular. She could have been me, except that her attire belonged to the last century. The resemblance was uncanny. Peculiarly, she wore the exact set of emeralds that I had inherited from Mama—every piece, excepting the headdress.

I stared a moment, recalling how much I’d longed for family the night I observed Mrs. Windham and Elizabeth reading in the hall by candlelight. Apparently I did resemble someone—and rather strongly too. That moment marked the first time I truly accepted the idea that Lord Pierson had fathered me. It birthed a desire in me, or rather a fierce longing to gain back some of what I had lost.

Seeing me study the painting, Edward said, “I fear our Mr. Forrester isn’t very sharp if it took him an entire week to figure out who you were.”

I laughed, then when Edward opened his arms to me, flung myself into them. He held me tight a minute; then he whispered, “Can you fetch a shawl? There’s something I want to show you. Only make haste. I have a feeling when it’s discovered that you’re awake, we haven’t a chance in all the world to talk privately.”

I pulled away from him but took up his calloused palm and kissed it before running up the stairs.

When I arrived breathless in the chamber, I learned I had broken protocol; all the maids froze with horror.

“I just need a shawl,” I explained, heading toward the wardrobe, starting confusion anew, for one girl stepped forward to fetch it for me, but then seeing I made motion to help myself, stepped back.

“Can you find it?” I asked her, knowing it would be quicker.

“Yes, miss.” She dipped. She selected a watered silk that matched my dress, but I shook my head.

“Something very warm, if you please.”

The girl shot another maid a nervous glance, and I knew that Edward and I would have to run for it. My father’s staff clearly did not know what to think about my wanting to go outdoors. Nevertheless, she returned with a thick, fringed cashmere shawl.