I drew out the ribbon that hung around my neck and inserted my key. The lock clicked.
COLD AIR, carrying the reek of tobacco, streamed from the chamber. I clutched the door handle, stunned. His chamber was a paradox. Though it was the exact size of my chambers, it was stark and open, undivided by walls. His bed was a cot with a coarse woollen blanket stretched over it. Armoires stood like wardens between pegs filled with his clothing. Near the fireplace, a sea of ash and cigar stubs surrounded a leather chair. I felt nervous viewing the space and turned to leave. There seemed little point in remaining. A glance took in its oddity.
And yet, as I stepped away, I spied a glint of white beneath the bed.
It is no easy thing to intrude on a man’s bedchamber, much less peruse papers he’d forbidden me to touch, but reasoning I’d come this far, I completed the treachery. With one swift movement, I crossed the room and knelt. My skirt stirred the floor dust as I took up the sheet.
There, drawn in smudged charcoal, was a sketch of me—the type a travelling artist might render. My likeness had been taken after my father’s death, for I recognized the mourning bonnet. I traced my fingers over the rendering of my face, touched. If this gentle and despondent image was the one Macy believed, no wonder he’d become attached. Even I desired to rescue me.
Keeping the paper in hand, I stood, wondering why he’d had it commissioned, then took in the room. This time I ached with a protective nature. How could anyone look upon this gaping scar of isolation and remain unmoved? My exploration had formed a picture of his daily practices. He spent time in the billiards room, library, and personal study. The rest of his house he neglected, attending to some unknown business. Yet, somehow, I’d become endeared to him. I was the first outreach he had made beyond these walls in years. Only why?
I replaced the page, careful to make it look exactly as it had. Before exiting, I shook my skirts free of dust. I locked the door and checked it twice before trudging downstairs with a new sobriety. I had found the future I sought—someone older and wiser than Edward. Not a father, but someone with the steadfastness that we associate with age. I had not been alone after Mama’s death, after all. Unbeknownst to me, Mr. Macy had been there all these months too.
When Nancy knocked on my chamber door, my emotions still had not settled. I’d alternately paced and sat before the hearth, trying to reason what to do next. I unlocked the door, deciding to trust her.
“Come.” I pulled her inside. “I need you.”
“Aye,” she agreed, frowning over my appearance, “that you do.”
“No, listen.” I drew her close. “I want Mr. Macy. Make me eye-catching tonight, better work than you’ve ever done—please.”
She gave a strange grimace but dusted off her hands. “Aye, I’ll do it, if that’s what thou truly wants.”
I wet my lips, surprised at my sudden resistance to my own scheme. I struggled to find words to soothe Nancy, but it was needless. She was already tearing through my wardrobe.
By the time Reynolds rapped on the door, Nancy’s face was flushed. Red curls had worked their way free and stuck out in tufts. She’d been silent, but now she wiped the back of her brow with her hand. “Well?”
I turned and considered my reflection. Despite Nancy’s position, her skills were exceptional. She’d coiled my ebony hair high, in rolls that shone with every turn of my head. Mama’s pearls felt cool against my neck. I touched them, recognizing the wisdom. Since pearls were unsuitable for young girls, by wearing them I asserted my commencement to womanhood.
I nodded approval as Reynolds knocked a second time. After opening the door, Nancy bobbed. “By your leave, miss.” Keeping a wary eye on Reynolds, she tiptoed around him and then rushed away.
“How did you manage her?” I smiled, sweeping my trailing skirt from the door. “For weeks I’ve tried to coerce her into proper behavior.”
His eyes warmed. “Managing servants is part of my occupation. Are you recovered, Miss Elliston?”
The coffee set flashed to mind, but I nodded.
“Mr. Macy shall be most pleased to hear it. He was quite anxious to learn you’d retired early. Shall I take you to the dining room?”
I extended my arm so he could accompany me as a gentleman, rather than a servant. Delight spread over his features.
That evening, a chill hung in the hall like a damp blanket, so when Reynolds shuffled with stiff movements to open the doors for me, I suspected rheumatism. Though he took pains to look nonchalant, tiny wrinkles about his eyes bespoke his suffering. A surge of affection welled as I considered how painstakingly he’d cared for me since my arrival. Though it wasn’t proper, I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Reynolds, thank you.”
His eyes, so galvanizing they nearly hurt, turned on me with surprise. “Why, you’re quite welcome, Miss Elliston. Quite welcome, indeed.”
Unused to this sort of tenderness, I flushed with embarrassment, ducked inside the chamber, and stared at my surroundings. Once again, I was the first arrival. I eyed the dazzling display, aware that if I succeeded, no more would I be an orphan, cast aside and unloved. My future would be just as dazzling as this room.
I was so riveted by my thoughts that I only registered the next arrival when the door banged. Hoping it was Mr. Macy, I spun toward the newcomer, taking no care to hide my rapturous delight.
To my surprise, Lady Foxmore’s painted face hovered just above view of the table. Behind her, the towering form of Mr. Greenham entered.
Anger twisted her face as she marked me. “Tell me,” she intoned to Mr. Greenham, “tell me he was not alone with her all day today.”
Like a henpecked husband, Mr. Greenham half lowered his eyelids as he went to the drink trolley. “How should I know where she, or anyone, was today? I was hunting, remember?”
“This was not part of the agreement, John!” Lady Foxmore grew shrill. “She is under my direct care! I am her chaperone now. I gave no permission for him to . . . Just look at her! How dare he! I expressly told him—”
“Peace, Adelia,” Mr. Macy commanded from the threshold.
The tone of his voice alone cast a pall over the room, but as he entered, his presence seemed to crowd out the four walls. Mr. Greenham averted his gaze, bowing his head, acknowledging Mr. Macy’s mastery.
Anger, however, continued to cloud Lady Foxmore’s face. Mr. Macy lifted an eyebrow at her, but she did not back down. Beneath her white powder, her face was scarlet with anger.
Mr. Macy gave me a slight nod of welcome, then looked over his shoulder. “Ah, Miss Windham, Mr. Auburn, welcome.”
Elizabeth was quick to read the mood and shot me a questioning look as she curtsied. “I pray you will excuse Mama. She’s retired with a slight headache.”
Henry likewise sensed the tension. His shoulders squared, he scanned the room. He eyed my dress, his mouth slanting down, before giving Mr. Macy an unhappy look. He did not return Mr. Macy’s greetings.
“Welcome,” Mr. Macy announced as Mr. Rooke and Mr. Forrester joined us. “Please, take your seats.”
There was far less confusion this time as everyone resumed their usual seats. Mr. Macy seated me, then went to aid her ladyship. She, however, refused. “John!” Her mouth twisted as she batted away Mr. Macy’s hand. “Where’s your sense of decency? I’m an old woman. Help me to my chair.”
Mr. Greenham rose and, with a weary sigh, obeyed.
Lady Foxmore’s face contorted with wrath as she sat opposite me.
“Such a scowl, Adelia,” Macy said, signalling for the footmen to begin. “It is not like you to behave so unbecomingly.”
“How can I not?” She waved away the servant who attempted to fill her glass. “I wagered a fortune that once you met that . . . that . . . scarecrow, this madness would end.”
Mr. Macy’s eyes narrowed. “Then next time, I suggest, don’t wager against me.”
“How could I not? How could you be serious? She, ‘to term in gross, is an unlesson’d girl, unschool’
d, unpracticed.’ And I? Am I expected to stand idle and watch as you make a gross fool of yourself?”
As she gestured at me, Henry nailed me with an accusing stare.
I could not have been redder if I had unscrewed a jar of her ladyship’s rouge and smeared it over my face.
“Mind your tongue.” Mr. Macy’s voice was subdued, but nonetheless as abrasive as a winter wind. “As far as I’m concerned, your standing with me rests entirely in her hands. Make no mistake: should she tire of your company, I shall oblige her.”
“Oh, ho, ho. What?” Lady Foxmore scoffed. “Will you suddenly refuse my invitations that you’ve declined for the last fifteen years? How frightening! Or shall you send me packing home? You forget, I am the child’s chaperone. If I leave, she leaves.”
A soft chuckle escaped Mr. Macy. “Adelia, I have no quarrel with you, nor do I wish one.”
“Satisfy me with this much. Why here? Why that skinny, milk-faced girl when I can secure you a countess or even a duchess?”
“Nobility?” His voice was flat as he faced her. “Is that what you think I lack?”
“You lack far more than that if you’re serious about pursuing this child. Never, in the whole of my life, have I seen a more disadvantageous match.”
“Nor a more outrageous fee.”
Lady Foxmore looked amused. “So she told you? Good. Know that I intend to collect full payment for this travesty. For I have never been more ill-used. But in all earnestness, what is this girl to you? Whatever it is you seek to gain by her, I can guarantee you, you won’t find it.”
Lady Foxmore handled the truth like it was a sword, sparing no one. Each word cut, making it difficult to keep my seat. I longed to retaliate with every black rumor I’d ever heard about her. I realized now her offer to find me a husband was betrayal. Somehow she’d gotten pulled into Mr. Macy’s attempts to defy my guardian, while all along she’d planned to thwart any such marriage. Beneath the table, Mr. Macy placed his hand over mine, which gripped the arm of my chair.
“I readily admit,” said Mr. Macy, his voice tight, “that my past is not what it should be. And yes, I deserve no such succor as sits here. Yet you and John both know how greatly I have struggled to be free of my mistakes. What is it to you if I wish to seek mercy at her feet?”
Lady Foxmore gave a cough into her wineglass and was obliged to cover her mouth with a napkin. Red bled through as she coughed up the wine she’d wrongly swallowed.
Until then, the others had tried their best to ignore the grumbling conversation at our end of the table, but as Lady Foxmore expelled the remainder of her wine, all attempts at feeble conversation ceased and silence reigned.
I shifted my gaze to Elizabeth and Henry. Both leaned against the backs of their chairs, watching me like accusing members of a jury.
Mr. Forrester leaned forward like a bird dog pointing to its game. “We all know you’re arguing over that girl there. My servant tells me she absented herself from the others all day today.” He censured me with his look. “If you don’t mind my asking, where were you?”
I have since learned that there are those who try to make others feel guilty simply by acting as though they are culpable.
I was particularly susceptible, as my household had suffered from angry and violent outbursts. Afterwards, Sarah would shush and chide me for crying over such trifling matters. I realized much later, of course, her goal was to keep my father from another rampage, but as a child, I believed my emotions were wrong. Thus I learned to doubt my perceptions. People like Mr. Forrester wreaked havoc on my life until I learned to identify them.
So when Mr. Forrester accused me, my mouth felt too dry to answer. I felt as though I had done something unpardonable.
“Ah yes, that reminds me.” Mr. Macy patted his pockets. “I believe you retain my keys, Miss Elliston, from your earlier exploration. May I trouble you for them?”
I knew from the small smile that Mr. Macy offered me that all was well and I could ignore Mr. Forrester. Feeling all eyes on me, I produced his key ring from my handbag.
It had the most profound effect on Mr. Forrester. He stiffened with an expression usually reserved for wives viewing the village trull.
Mr. Greenham gave a gasp before he set down his glass and stared at Mr. Macy. “Those are . . . your keys?”
Mr. Macy inclined his head once as an answer but kept his focus on the keys in his hand, as if mentally counting them.
All at once, Mr. Forrester straightened and an evil look of glee crossed his face. He smirked at Mr. Macy with the air of someone about to checkmate his opponent. “Miss Elliston, please, this is very important. I need to know if, during your tour, you saw a small ivory box.” He cupped his hands to indicate an object about the size of Mama’s sewing kit. “It would have stood on four small legs, and—”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Forrester.” The surge of protectiveness I felt over Mr. Macy surprised even me. “But I am not inclined to speak of what I saw.”
Mr. Forrester looked affronted, but Mr. Macy’s eyes sparkled as he turned to Lady Foxmore. “And that,” he said, his voice full of pride, “is why I will trust my own judgment over your duchesses.”
When dinner ended, Mr. Greenham approached and spoke in Mr. Macy’s ear, while he tapped an index finger on the table. Mr. Macy’s gaze flickered in my direction with regret before he nodded and sighed. “Gentlemen,” he announced, “let us retire for brandy in the billiards room.”
I watched the gentlemen leave with a shadow cast over my own mood. Though Mr. Macy had managed to carry the dinner conversation after our horrid start, I still felt acutely embarrassed. Nothing had gone the way I’d hoped. I had yet to steal a moment with Mr. Macy, though I’d spent hours dressing, and mention of the billiards room brought back to mind the coffee set.
Wanting no part of her ladyship’s biting tongue, I retired to the darkest corner of the drawing room and tucked my feet beneath me. I even attempted to withdraw from Elizabeth, but within a half hour, she and Lady Foxmore found me.
Her ladyship gave a slight shake of her head, as if my hiding had managed to further deepen her disappointment in me.
Elizabeth, however, went to me and motioned for me to make room for her on the settee.
Grudgingly, I met her gaze but did not move my feet.
“Don’t make me sit on you,” she threatened. “I will.”
I grimaced at her, considering refusing to let her join me. Doubtlessly she felt it her duty to point out her concerns about my behavior. The fact that I couldn’t defend any of my actions made me irritable. With a sinking feeling, I realized that I was also duty bound. I still needed to tell her about Henry. I removed my feet.
“Juls?” Her face still bore the marks of exhaustion as she sat.
“I know what you’re going to say,” I said. “I’m begging you, please don’t. You don’t understand this.”
“Think about what you’re doing,” she finally said. “Think of all that we planned.”
I did not respond immediately, for her words opened a door I thought I had shut. Grief, however, comes in cycles and will not be ignored when it knocks. Unwillingly, I plunged anew into the heartache I felt over Edward.
Though it was folly to even consider Elizabeth’s plea, I gave a last fleeting look at our beautiful plans. Edward was supposed to become a barrister, and when Henry came into his full inheritance, we’d join him and Elizabeth at Auburn Manor.
The four of us had planned that our children would grow up together and play in the same fields we had. How many pledges had we sworn to continue to live as wild and as free as we were then? How many times had I daydreamed about the first time the four of us would sit down to dine, each wearing a grin because we’d know we had won—that despite society, despite the obstacles, our foursome’s bond had remained intact.
I took a breath against the rising ache. Like a wave’s retreating after hitting shore, the cycle of grief ended, leaving me strangely numb. Such thoughts were
pointless now.
Having lived with her mother, Elizabeth had an uncanny sense of when to speak and when not to. Thus, she’d held her peace while I’d entertained the vision, but when I shook my head, tears filled her eyes. “How can you give up? Not now. Fight. Would you really trade what we four share, even for something as grand as this?” She waved her hand over the hall with its intricate ceilings, ornate moldings, and rich furnishings. “Edward will recover from this madness in time. I know he will.”
I reined in my emotions before answering. “It was a dream, Elizabeth. A silly, childish, nonsensical dream. It is far time we outgrew it anyway.” I placed my fingertips on her arm. “Not just me, but you, too. I don’t think it’s coming true for either of us.”
She gave a snort at that idea. “How can you turn your back on us now, after all we swore to each other?”
“What if it’s not just Edward and me parting ways? What if it’s you and Henry too?”
Confusion lit her eyes as she cocked her head.
I wet my lips, uncertain how hard she’d take the news. “Dearest, I overheard a rumor . . . about . . . Henry being engaged.”
Instead of the dismay I expected, she looked a trifle annoyed, then took up my hands. “Never mind that. Henry and I are fully capable of handling that matter.”
I felt my eyebrows lift, even as my blood ran cold. “Elizabeth! You mean you know?”
“It’s not us you should worry about.” She started to say more, but the door opened, revealing the missing gentlemen. Henry looked first for Elizabeth, who rose and went to greet him. Mr. Greenham claimed a seat in the corner, looking more plagued than ever.
Mr. Macy’s probing glance looked for me, and when he found me, he offered an encouraging smile. He patted Henry’s shoulder as Elizabeth joined them, made a pretense of getting coffee, and then, to my relief, he joined me.
Born of Persuasion Page 21