Born of Persuasion

by Jessica Dotta

  Edward gave a slight cough. “We last saw them by the labyrinth.”

  Lady Foxmore rubbed her forehead. “Tell me your brother did not take her in.”

  “The labyrinth?” Mrs. Windham fluttered to the window, though the maze lay on the other side of the house.

  “Come, sit.” Edward ushered her from the window. “Henry shall tend her.”

  “Yes, I daresay he shall.” Lady Foxmore’s rings glittered in the candlelight as she placed her hands on the table. “Your parents best hope they find their way out before dawn, lest Edith demand an engagement.”

  Mrs. Windham perked her head. “Is it a very complex maze?”

  “I know not,” Edward said.

  “You are my witness.” Mrs. Windham fluttered her lace at him. “See how my hand trembles.” She exhibited her hand and purposefully shook it. “You may be called on to testify if they do not come out soon.”

  “Yes, yes, come on.” Edward urged her to the table.

  Mr. Forrester and Rooke entered together; neither looked particularly pleased. Mr. Forrester sneered, catching sight of me, then went straight to Edward and grabbed his arm. “Sit with me. I need to talk to you.”

  Edward frowned at his lack of manners, but after a second, acquiesced. I watched, helpless, as they took seats together. Eyeing me with displeasure, Rooke took the empty chair next to me.

  That evening, Mr. Forrester turned his nose at every course, choosing instead to question Edward. What he searched for, I couldn’t guess. He queried Edward’s heritage, schooling, theology, vocation, why he chose church over law, and so on. Every time he nodded approval to one of Edward’s answers, he’d reword it, as though trying to unearth inconsistencies.

  “I forgot to inquire, Edward,” Lady Foxmore said as the topic turned toward the new laws regarding tithe, “did you ever manage to collect from Robert White?”

  Edward paused and looked down, his hand tightening over his spoon. “Yes, of sorts.”

  “Tell me you refused the sow. You know I do not want that filthy swine.”

  A faint tinge of red crept up Edward’s neck. “You know he lacks the monies—”

  “Then I want a new tenant in his stead, one who pays his corn rent.”

  “With a new babe?” Edward met Lady Foxmore with vengeance. “You’d evict him before winter? You know his leg crippled him, not to mention the untimely frost.”

  Lady Foxmore looked smug as she folded her hands on the table. “I could perhaps be persuaded to bargain.” With a smile, she gave me a slight nod. “I take the swine in trade, you return home. Tonight.”

  Edward’s face remained like stone, but his chest heaved.

  “Oh no, not Robbie’s swine!” Mrs. Windham wrinkled her nose. “You must not accept that one. For I have it on the best authority last month he fed it moldy oats, and the thing had dysentery for weeks. I should not think it would taste good. There would scarcely be any cracklings, besides. Now if you want a good pig—”

  “I am reminded—” Edward’s voice was terse—“Robert did manage to pay using his meadow silver. You shall have your precious money.”

  Lady Foxmore’s eyes grew excited. “Honestly. How on earth do you plan to cover for them all, especially with the newly appointed tithe commissioners demanding full records? What of Mrs. Beaton and her chickens? And Harley Crumbwell’s elderberry wine? Not to mention those pitiful cottagers near your parents’ house with their six birdlike mouths? Are you going to tell me all my tenants have paid in full? Go home, Edward. If you won’t leave for your own good, do it for theirs.”

  Edward’s hand fisted, but he said nothing.

  Lady Foxmore circled the rim of her wineglass with her finger. “Yes, consider carefully between that child and your flock. For I swear to you, every night you spend beneath this roof, one family loses my philanthropy.”

  I sat speechless. Though part of me longed to rise up and decry her underhanded tactics, the other part of me knew that the best possible outcome would be for Edward to go home. It had been a mistake to admit him to Eastbourne in the first place.

  Edward slid his eyes to me, as if weighing the matter.

  Mr. Forrester scoffed, digging his hand through the nut dish. “Allow me to be of service, if you’re talking about that piece of work.” He popped nuts into his mouth, gesturing toward me.

  Edward darkened. “Mind your tone, sir.”

  “That girl—” Mr. Forrester ignored him, crunching between words—“is trifling with your affections. Do not allow her to befool you. She is an unchaste coquette—”

  Edward flew to his feet and grabbed Mr. Forrester by the collar, choking off the remainder of the statement, then dragged him from the room before anyone else could react.

  For the length of five seconds, anger and shock circulated through me, while Lady Foxmore tilted back her head and laughed, clapping her hands.

  For the only time in memory, Rooke allowed something to come between him and his dinner. He caught my wrist as I jumped from my chair. “No. Leave Forrester to Macy.”

  “Hurry!” Lady Foxmore wiped her eyes, calling to the footmen. “Bring the child something stronger than claret. Brandy, I should imagine, by this point.”

  “Such a thing would never have happened in my day.” Mrs. Windham collapsed onto a tufted chair, waving a fan over her face. “Indeed, I should like the opportunity to contend with him now. Unchaste coquette! Did he corner you in some dark hall and make advances, which you spurned, Julia? There are some who will do that—ruin your reputation in their anger. Indeed, if he wished to court you, he should have come to me. I would have cordially welcomed him, though I shall do no such thing now. No, indeed. No matter what his fortune.”

  I fingered my lace cuffs, saying nothing.

  Edward rose from the desk-like table, poured coffee from the nearby service, and handed it to Mrs. Windham. “Taste it. Is it hot?”

  His attempt to quiet her failed, for she bustled her skirt, looking at me. “I hope you slapped him when he kissed you. Such an ill-bred man. Coquette, indeed. As if you’ve ever dallied with anyone’s affections.”

  I stared at my hands. Guilt dampened any outrage I may have otherwise felt. All I wanted was Mr. Macy’s return. Somehow, I knew he could set this all right. Edward gave a frustrated sigh before reseating himself behind the pile of books and sermon notes.

  “You’re going about it all wrong,” Lady Foxmore said to him. Then, with eyelids half-closed, she turned to Mrs. Windham. “The temperature seems to be falling. Let us hope Elizabeth’s constitution is strong. I knew a girl who died in similar circumstances.”

  Mrs. Windham touched her lips, turning to the window.

  “There,” Lady Foxmore said to Edward. “Now we shall have calm.”

  Edward threw down his pen. “I promise, Henry will properly care for her.” He rested his eyes on me, seemingly disturbed in his thoughts.

  “Just where exactly is Miss Windham?” Rooke looked up from where he sat on the hearthstone cleaning his pipe.

  “In the labyrinth with Mr. Auburn,” Lady Foxmore said.

  He laid a sooty rag next to his brandy. “What the Jupiter are they doing in there?”

  Lady Foxmore arched her eyebrows. “Exactly what you’re assuming.”

  “They’re lost!” Edward glared at her, but she only shrugged and sipped her coffee.

  Rooke scowled. “There’s a promise of rain in the air, if not sleet. Go, fetch them.” When we all stared, he stood. “Are all of you honestly that helpless?” He grabbed his jacket slung over a chair and shoved his arms through the sleeves. He looked at me. “Stay in this room. I’ll return in a moment.”

  He swept from the room, swearing as he buttoned his coat.

  Lady Foxmore’s gaze followed his retreating form. “Of all the uncouth people. We can all sleep better if that one never finds his way out again.”

  “Why. What’s wrong with him?” Mrs. Windham asked.

  Lady Foxmore set her coffee aside
. “Chance has a ghastly habit of finding and befriending vagrants. I am told he picked that one off the streets of London. Rumor has it he was acquitted of thuggery on a mere technicality, although—”

  Mrs. Windham dropped the teacup in her hands.

  “Nonsense.” Edward placed a paperweight over his notes. “There’s been more than enough gossip tonight. We’ll not cast down a man on rumor.” With a grimace, he rose, then cast himself on the settee I occupied.

  For several minutes I picked at my lace cuff. All I wanted was for the evening to end so I could retreat to my own room.

  “Is Mrs. Windham correct?” Edward eventually said in a low, angry voice. “Did that man attempt to kiss you? Is that why he glared when he found us, and why he said that during dinner?”

  My stomach sickened, a mingling of fear and guilt. I shook my head.

  His left hand gathered into a fist. “Has anyone else here tried to kiss you?”

  It is no pleasant sensation to feel yourself pale. Cold tingling begins at your scalp and prickles its way down to the pit of your stomach.

  Thankfully the door clicked open and Henry entered hand in hand with Elizabeth, followed by Rooke. Henry’s jacket cloaked Elizabeth’s shoulders. Her damp hair lay limp, but her cheeks were rosy as she clutched the coat for warmth.

  “I have been most abominably used!” Mrs. Windham tottered to her feet, tears instantly in her eyes. “Henry, I shall not tolerate such behavior from you. You have ruined my only daughter, ruined her virtue and her only chances of securing herself a good marriage.”

  “Mama, hush.” Elizabeth pulled the coat tighter, her eyes mischievous.

  Henry laid a hand on her shoulder and woodenly said, “Please, accept my apology—”

  “No, indeed I shall not!” Mrs. Windham’s mouth screwed before her voice pitched to a shriek. “The only apology I’ll accept is an engagement. You’ve kept her out the entire night.” Her eyes fluttered, full of tears. “And without a chaperone.”

  Lady Foxmore glowered at the clock. “It’s scarcely after nine, Edith. And for my part, I swear never to breathe a word of it.”

  “Edward!” Mrs. Windham’s shrill shout in our direction caused us both to jump. “You must write your father about this outrage this very minute.”

  I watched as Henry gave Elizabeth a grin on the sly, telling me they had planned for this all along. I crossed my arms over my stomach, praying this wasn’t their plan to ensure their future together.

  Mrs. Windham stretched her hands in a plea to Edward. “You must insist he do his duty to my Elizabeth and force Henry to wed her.”

  For a moment, Edward appeared ready to refuse, but after studying his brother, he gave a tight-lipped nod and rose.

  To my surprise, Rooke immediately filled his vacant seat. Using the light emanating from the whale-oil lamp, he scraped the inside of his pipe bowl with a penknife. “Just remember Macy runs a very tight ship.” He indicated Edward with a nod.

  I felt my throat thicken. “Must Mr. Macy learn about it?”

  Rooke laughed. “You’ve a better chance keeping a draft from your house during a gale storm. Makes little difference whether I say anything or not. Mark my words, Macy’ll know within ten minutes of being home. I get the feeling summat bigger is behind the scenes in your case.” He screwed the mouthpiece back in and tapped the pipe in his palm. “So, for what it’s worth, leave the vicar be. I happen to like him.”

  He left the seat as abruptly as he’d taken it.

  From the corner, Mrs. Windham stopped her hysterical weeping long enough to correct Edward’s spelling while he attempted to write a letter with three people instructing him all at the same time on what to say.

  I wiped the residue that had landed on my dress, as apprehension danced along my nerves. A glance in Edward’s direction, as Henry, Elizabeth, and Mrs. Windham argued over word choice, was enough to smite my conscience. Rooke was right. Something bigger was happening, and the longer I kept Edward in the dark, the more endangered everyone would become. For there was no doubt Henry and Elizabeth would feel duty bound too. They didn’t deserve to find themselves dealing with someone as dangerous as my guardian.

  I stood, overwrought.

  Edward noticed and sheathed the pen in the inkwell. “Julia?”

  Desperate to escape without being questioned, I squeezed the layers of my dress through a tiny space between chairs, in an attempt to reach the door before Edward did. I wanted time alone to think. Edward wended his way to the door, then placed his arm before it, preventing my leaving. “What did that man just say to you, to make you afraid?”

  “Afraid?”

  Annoyance flickered over his face. “Do not deny it. I encounter that expression every time I pay an unexpected visit to a cottager who has stopped attending church. What did he say?”

  I gave a slight shake of my head.

  “Something is happening here.” Edward’s voice lowered. “I don’t pretend to understand what—”

  “Were I you, Edward—” Lady Foxmore lowered her teacup as she interrupted—“I would focus my energies on leaving before midnight. For I was not in jest over what I spoke during dinner.”

  Edward’s mouth hardened.

  Survival exists deep within each of us, though often at great cost to our soul. I steadied my breathing, imbibing my own pain. The last twenty-four hours had been pure folly, and I knew it. It was time to end this.

  “Go home, Edward.” I placed my hand on his arm. “This was a mistake. You shouldn’t have come.”

  Instead of the barb I intended, Edward studied me with a keen look. “I know you, Juls. You can’t lie to me. Are you going to stand there and say you have no desire to try to find a solution?”

  I met his eyes with the coldest look I could muster. “You forget, I have. Her ladyship is finding me a husband.”

  Intensity marked his features, an expression that promised he’d brook no rival. But then, with the air of one willing himself to calm, he placed a hand on his hip and studied me. Dissatisfaction sculpted his features.

  “How do I know,” he asked Lady Foxmore, looking over his shoulder, “that if I leave tonight, you’ll not change your mind about rents again? If this is going to become a card you play every time we disagree, I’d rather call your bluff now.”

  She laughed. “I have little need to bluff, but so you have it, I give you my sworn word.”

  “Yes, yes,” Mrs. Windham added. “It is the very thing! Take the letter to your father in person and tell him I am near fainting. You must convince him of his duty to amend this situation immediately!”

  The muffled jingle of coins sounded from Edward’s pocket as he checked his funds. Once more he turned toward me, but I refused to meet his eye. I knew him. The jut of his jaw told me he wasn’t leaving.

  “Henry,” he said in a quiet voice, “will you see me out?”

  Henry’s entire body swelled like a bullfrog’s, but Elizabeth redirected him with a whispered word. Henry frowned at whatever she said, but then after studying Edward a moment, joined him.

  I stepped aside, allowing the brothers to pass. Once they turned the corner, I shut the door and sagged against the wall and covered my mouth to hide my sob.

  Reynolds stepped from a dark corner, his face soft.

  I hastily wiped my eyes and straightened. “I—I didn’t see you. Were you there the entire time?”

  “I was waiting for you.” His tone was sympathetic as he offered his arm. “Are you ready for bed?”

  Reading his offer for a truce, I took his arm.

  “Was he a former suitor, then?” Reynolds asked gently.

  “Yes.” My voice came out thick. “Once I thought I would marry him.”

  “Ah.” Reynolds gave my hand a pat before he removed a candle from a wall sconce. A ring of light illuminated the passage we threaded.

  A few silent minutes slipped by before I gained the ability to ask, “How good a friend is Rooke to Mr. Macy?”

  Reyno
lds shot me a chiding look. “I never inquire about Mr. Macy’s guests. Nor do I comment on them.”

  “Oh.” My disappointment echoed through the stone hall.

  He smiled. “Neither do I comment on former suitors, though I imagine Mr. Macy will have his own way of learning what passed between the two of you. Your chambers, Miss Elliston.” He opened my door.

  Alone, I stripped off my dress and wrapped myself in bed, curling my fingers into the downy pillow. Rooke’s statement continued to unsettle me. Of course, I realized, Mr. Macy kept his household under surveillance. He had enemies. I had been childish and naive. Why had I instructed Reynolds to allow Edward to come in at all?

  Why couldn’t I have foreseen that it served no purpose except to further hurt us?

  I turned on my stomach, appalled that I’d allowed matters to go so far. It was one thing to allow Mr. Macy to assume risk by marrying me—but quite another to pull those I loved most into the intrigue.

  “WAKE, MISS! Please wake.” Nancy’s frantic shaking pulled me from my slumber. Beneath her freckles, her face was pale. Sun streamed through her red hair, which was still unbound.

  I propped myself on my elbows. “What?”

  “That servant.” She panted for breath. “He telled everyone that thou is sharing Mr. Macy’s bed.”

  “Wait, wait.” I clutched the sheet, sitting. “What?”

  “Mr. Forrester’s manservant. Before breakfast he announced to th’ staff that thou were spending thy nights in Macy’s bed.”

  “Are you certain that’s what he said?”

  “I heard it with me own ears.”

  I rubbed my fingers over my forehead, nausea souring my stomach. The mantel clock marked an hour before breakfast. My various thoughts channelled into a stream of agreement. I needed to be the first to breakfast in order to defend myself.

  “Hurry, dress me.” I motioned her to move out of my way. While Nancy gathered my things, I paced. The hardest thing to reconcile was the fact I had been spending my nights with Mr. Macy. Impossible to rectify.