Born of Persuasion

by Jessica Dotta

Nancy wasted no time. With deft fingers she buttoned, tucked, and smoothed my gown. My world felt shaken, but the steady way she twisted and pinned my hair in place gave me a measure of surety.

  To my relief, Reynolds waited outside my door. He bowed. “Did you sleep well?”

  I closed my door, but my fingers shook too much to lock it. He obliged.

  “Reynolds,” I said as he pocketed his key, “there seems to be a rumor circulating amongst the servants.”

  “Ah, so you heard.” He tucked my arm under his with a pat. “Act natural. If it’s mentioned, which I highly doubt, act bothered that your time was wasted.”

  Somehow, I hadn’t anticipated that advice. “How did the rumor start?”

  “Mr. Forrester’s manservant.”

  “How did he know?”

  “Know what, Miss Elliston?” He cocked his head toward me. “Unless Mr. Macy reminds me of something I forgot, as his personal valet, I’m with him every night. A most ridiculous notion if you ask me.”

  His response was so unexpected, I held my peace as he guided me.

  Near the pillared hall, I asked, “Did Reverend Auburn leave last night?”

  Reynolds did not betray even a flicker of emotion. “Yes, just before midnight.” It was at least one gain. Edward wouldn’t be on hand when the scandal broke. I dismissed Reynolds with a nod, lest our being seen together confirm the reports.

  Footmen stood in the breakfast chamber polishing silver and rubbing flannel over the crystal goblets. The way they ceased their banter upon spotting me in the doorway served to confirm my belief they’d heard the rumor. I backed into the hall.

  Away from their view, I leaned against one of the cold pillars and slowly slid down until I was seated. The scent of soaplees and turpentine rose from the recently scrubbed floor. I buried my eyes in the palms of my hands.

  I drew my knees to my chest, then folded my arms over them, ignoring the strain on my stays. I tried to imagine what Mama would tell me to do, but could only hear her telling me to be safe. It was what she said every time I left the house.

  Well, she’d have her wish. I would be safe. Hopefully Mr. Macy might never learn about Edward’s visit. With such a scandal circulating, I couldn’t risk Mr. Macy not marrying me now.

  “Julia?”

  I opened my eyes to find Elizabeth bending over me. Concern etched her brow as she stooped and placed her cool fingers in mine.

  “Will you promise me something?” I asked.

  Her fingers gripped mine. “Yes. What?”

  It was hard to speak through the tears. “Do not be angry with me today, no matter what you learn about me, or I won’t be able to bear it.”

  “Learn what, dearest?”

  Tears blurred my vision but I could not tell her.

  “I swear,” Elizabeth said, tightening her fingers over mine. “I’ll keep Henry in line too. And you know Edward will stand by you.”

  I blinked. “Edward?”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Goose! Her ladyship only said he couldn’t spend a night under this roof. So he and Henry sought out a local clergyman, and Edward spent the night in his barn.”

  I felt horrified. “And what about that pig farmer, Robbie . . . Robbie . . .”

  “White,” Elizabeth finished for me. “He doesn’t breed pigs, thank goodness! Mama is right. I wouldn’t want his swine on my table either.” Then seeing my expression, she grinned. “Don’t worry about her ladyship. The fact that Edward bested her will only delight, not anger her. You disapprove, but wait; you’ll see I’m right.”

  Before I could argue, a pair of booted feet raced nearby. A tousled-looking Henry turned the corner. He greeted Elizabeth with a grin, then scowled at me, pulling on his coat. “No more of your nonsense,” he ordered. “I’ve kept Edward from learning about your flirtation with . . .” He jerked his head, indicating our surroundings, as if Mr. Macy and Eastbourne were one. He lowered his head and his tone. “I’ve about had it with Edward and you! Don’t expect me to keep interfering on your behalf.”

  He turned and stomped through the entrance hall and outdoors before I could retort. I allowed my head to sink against the pillar. “Elizabeth, can you stop him?”

  Frowning, she crossed her arms.

  I gave a laugh, realizing the folly of my request. Nothing stopped Henry once he set his mind to something. Elizabeth was equally mulish. Together they were tempestuous; few could stand against them.

  Edward and I had always managed, though.

  I rubbed my temples. There was no utilizing his help. Besides the fact that I suspected his intentions aligned with theirs, I needed to place distance between us today. When Mr. Macy learned about the kiss we’d shared, at the very least I wanted to be able to show him that I had spurned all contact with Edward afterwards.

  I shut my eyes, realizing that day would be amongst the hardest in my life. Besides balancing a scandal that could make me unmarriageable against one of Henry and Elizabeth’s mad schemes, I needed to break my own heart by ending my relationship with Edward, firmly enough so he’d go home, but hopefully not so harshly that he’d hate me for the rest of his life—for that I could not bear.

  My thoughts came in quick succession, and I made my resolutions just as quickly, so that by the time I held out my hands, asking for Elizabeth to help pull me to my feet, scarcely a few seconds had passed.

  “You know as well as I do,” she answered my question about stopping Henry, “it’s for your own good.” She laced her fingers in mine. “Come on, let’s go eat some breakfast. I’ll tell you about the labyrinth. You and Edward really ought to explore it.”

  Elizabeth paid the footmen no mind as we entered the breakfast chamber and chatted about how Henry had wooed her last night, as if they weren’t present.

  I helped myself to a cup of coffee and then, stirring it, considered the staff. Daily, I realized, they witnessed our secret lives, guessed at the ghosts in our past, and carried the ability to ruin us with a single word.

  The thought was a stunning one. My entire life I’d lamented the fact we only had Sarah and, before my father’s death, doddering old Luther. Elizabeth and I used to roll our eyes whenever Henry and Edward would meet us beneath the ancient oak and inform us we were lucky as they stripped off shoes, stockings, stiff frock coats and then ran their fingers through their hair that had been waxed in place, in order to play.

  I scraped the bottom of my cup with my spoon, for the first time understanding them. Whereas Elizabeth and I had always been free to run from Am Meer barefoot—as neither Sarah nor Hannah could manage more than a short dash—the boys had to face an army of face-washings, spoonfuls of cod-liver oil, and lectures not to ruin their polished shoes before breaking their way outdoors.

  As the footmen continued to set up the buffet, pretending not to hear Elizabeth laughing over the bad verse Henry had written and shared, I considered the idea that if I wed Mr. Macy my every movement would be known, especially given the way he managed his household.

  I set my spoon aside, ignoring the tightening in my stomach. With a sip of coffee, I realized Edward and I were switching places. He’d finally broken free—throwing off all conventions in this mad attempt to live out his ideals, which I knew from my father’s example would make him a pariah. Whereas I had left that horrible circle and now moved toward the glittering lights of society—but at the cost of confinement.

  I wasn’t certain if Edward would like his new circumstances, but I was determined to enjoy mine. That was, if I survived the obstacles until Macy returned.

  By midmorning, I had harrowed my heart over forty times. Edward could not approach me without receiving a bedamning glare. He could not please, could say nothing which I did not spurn. I accepted none of his tender ministrations. If he offered a chair, I went to the window. If he fixed a plate, I wrinkled my nose. If he asked to speak, I expressed my need of solitude. Each time he lifted his eyes with hurt confusion, anguish lit through me. But I could not relent. I suppose some migh
t wonder why I did not just confess my full situation to my friends, rather than driving them away with my actions. But I knew them well enough to know if they learned about my guardian, they’d act, exposing themselves to this person’s wrath. The very fact they were intruding upon my trip to find a husband proved it.

  Better, I reasoned, to inflict pain on them myself, if in the end it meant sparing them greater hurt.

  By early afternoon, Edward ceased trying to engage my attention and retreated from the room. Only Elizabeth seemed to suspect I was breaking my own heart. With hurt confusion she watched me as I continued to play faro with her and Lady Foxmore, as if not caring.

  Glaring at me, Henry stalked after Edward. Only then did the hurt rise, and did my throat tighten. Could I really just force Edward to leave me alone by ignoring him? My remaining bets slipped from my fingers onto the green felt.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” I whispered to Lady Foxmore, unable to stand it.

  “Sit, child.” She nodded to the ace I’d backed after drawing the queen as the loser. “You’re only doing what you must. ’Tis good practice for you. He shouldn’t even be here, and we both know it. Besides, I suspect you have a rather good reason for remaining.”

  Elizabeth paused, her heavy breathing emphasizing her collarbones. It seemed to me she was praying I would shove aside all bets and seek out Edward. Instead, I sank against my chair and waited for her to draw the next card.

  “King wins,” Lady Foxmore said. “Place your new bets.”

  I slid four halfpence back to the ace and looked toward the window, where grey clouds gathered.

  Throughout that long day, I carefully studied each face, servants’ and masters’, trying to gauge who heard the gossip. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could operate under such strain and continue to act normal. The thought makes me laugh now, for I’ve since learned the immense amount of stress beneath which the elite not only endure, but also perform.

  Maintaining our nightly custom, we met in the drawing room after dinner. Though she appeared weary of my company, I affixed myself to Elizabeth, resting my head on her shoulder, watching the rain rattle the windows.

  Henry recited poetry to Elizabeth, thankfully from a book, while Edward worked on a sermon, his eye travelling between the clock and myself, as if to ensure a midnight departure. More than once, he tried to meet my eye, but I refused.

  Rooke remained nearby, pretending to nap, but I had the impression he was keeping watch.

  It was well past ten when Reynolds entered. My body felt thick as honey as sleepiness weighted my limbs.

  He returned a book to the shelf and collected dishes. I shot him a questioning look. He retrieved a carved wooden box with a dome lid and opened it, revealing cigars. He tucked the item under his arm and left the room.

  Understanding his meaning, I sat straight. Mr. Macy had returned.

  I jumped from my seat and started toward the door.

  “My heavens, Julia, are you suddenly ill?” Mrs. Windham asked.

  “I’m fine. It’s only that I am tired and can hardly keep my eyes open.” I dipped to her ladyship, then left the chamber before Edward could rise from his chair, and hurried after Reynolds.

  REYNOLDS TAPPED the study door and then stepped away. It burst open and Mr. Macy’s eyes roamed the darkness until they settled on me. With a nod to Reynolds, he pulled me inside and slammed the door. The first night we’d met, he’d been Morpheus, the god of dreams, once more giving his bad tidings to mortals. That night, however, he could have passed for a highwayman. Muddy boots lay in a corner. A dripping, but expensive, frock coat was slung over the desk chair. His evening shirt was soaked and clung to his chest.

  He pulled me close and buried his face in my neck. His unshaven chin rasped my skin. Breathing in the scent of my hair, he enclosed me in his arms. “Julia.”

  Though a chill clung to his wet clothing, permeating my dress, I sank against him, relieved. My grief over Edward had created a niggling fear that I might no longer feel an attraction toward Mr. Macy. That fear was vain.

  He was as captivating as ever, and as his mouth met mine, all shyness left. Here I found the assurance I sought. I grasped his sleeves as his arms slid around my waist; then, grateful he wasn’t angry, I ran fingers through his dripping hair.

  “What’s this?” He chuckled, withdrawing. His forelock fell over his eye, adding to his appeal. “No blushes?” He kissed my shoulder, moving downwards. “How far will you allow my advances?”

  Here, I pushed away.

  “Somehow, I doubted you had lost your demureness that easily. No retreating.” But with a chuckle, he released and went to the fire where he added a log. “I’ve thought of little else except you for these three days. I rode hours ahead of John, nearly breaking my neck. You can’t possibly fathom my pleasure in seeing you.”

  Unable to ascertain whether he’d learned Edward was here or not, I moved to the couch and stiffly sat on its arm.

  He turned, studying me. “Most men fear that if they wed, their wives will never cease their chatter.” He joined me, then pulled me from my perch into his lap. “I’ve yet to hear a word from you.”

  Having no desire to speak, I curled against him.

  He accepted me and twirled a lock of my hair between his fingers. “I wish I had more leisure, dearest, but I’ve never allowed this much time to pass before learning what happened during my absence.” With a swift movement, he pushed me from his lap and faced me. “Let’s set a new precedent. I’ll hear from you first.”

  I settled against the couch. So he didn’t know about Edward. I drew up my feet and searched the room as though an answer would be written on the wall for me.

  “Uh-oh. There’s a guilty look if I’ve ever seen one.” He reached for the brandy behind us. “Did you break something, darling? You needn’t feel alarmed.”

  A sickening feeling rushed over my stomach as I imagined him hearing of Edward’s and my kiss.

  He dropped the glass stopper back in the bottle’s neck. “What? What happened?”

  “Well . . .” I entwined my fingers, knowing the only way out of this mess was straight through it. “First, Edward arrived—”

  “Edward? I know scores of Edwards. Be specific.”

  “I meant Reverend Auburn.”

  He elevated his eyebrows. “Ahh. Look at me, dear.” When I did, he sank against the corner of the couch with a ghost of a smile, laying his arm over the top. “Is this Adelia’s vicar, the one you might have met once or twice?”

  Though I wanted to nod to confirm it, my body felt frozen.

  “Never mind. Everything about your countenance confirms it. Well, how did he take the news of our attachment?”

  I dropped my gaze and studied the pattern on the rug as intently as I’d ever studied a carpet.

  “You know, dearest, you are a very easy read. Tell me?”

  I swallowed. “I think he came because of me.”

  He inclined forward and raised my chin with his finger. “No, there’s more than that lurking in your expression. What else?”

  Wildly, I sought for something half-truthful. “Well . . . I allowed him to kiss me.”

  He leaned until his head rested on my shoulder, then shook it with a laugh. “Sweetheart, that’s cruel. You only give him false hope.”

  “You’re not upset?”

  “No, darling.” He tangled his fingers in my hair. “Though I’m less inclined to leave you unattended in the future. With all your blushes, you didn’t strike me as one to take amusement in sporting with someone’s affections, much less a vicar.” He backed away and considered me. “Was I selfish with my timing? Perhaps you need to break a heart or two in order to be content in marriage.”

  I started to explain, but he drew my wrist to his lips and kissed it.

  “No words are necessary. Disappoint him gently if you wish, but not so gently that it never gets accomplished. If you lose control of the situation, alert me and I’ll assist. Did anything els
e happen?”

  I tried not to look as amazed as I felt. Was that all he was going to say? Yet I knew Rooke might still make a nuisance. He’d witnessed it and knew it had been far more than an innocent peck. “Rooke took it upon himself to follow me today, to keep watch.”

  “Rooke?” Macy poured a brandy. “I’ll speak with him. Is that all, then?”

  I shook my head at how easily my duplicity had been skipped over. “Mr. Forrester insulted me.”

  Mr. Macy rose menacingly. “He did what?”

  “He told Edward I was—” I blushed in light of our previous conversation—“I was an unchaste coquette.”

  His lips thinned. “I swear to you, he’ll rue the slur. Who stood up for you?”

  I dropped my eyes. “Edward. I believe he boxed him, for his lip is injured. Edward wouldn’t allow him to rejoin our party until he apologized.”

  “Does that mean Robert actually apologized?” Mr. Macy sounded incredulous as he dropped into his seat. “How long did it take?”

  I shrugged. “A full day.” During dinner that evening, Forrester had entered with a cut and swollen lip. With his back turned toward Edward, he bowed to me, his face sneering. When he’d apologized, he looked over his shoulder and asked if Edward was satisfied.

  Mr. Macy laughed and shook his head. “Well, at least you prey on deserving men. I’ll take care of Robert, too, though I’ll spare you the details. Is there anything else?”

  “Yes.” I felt sullen and looked away.

  “Is there no end? I’m beginning to wish for a wife who will talk my ear off, have it out at once. What else, darling?”

  “The servants are gossiping about us spending our nights together.”

  He appeared too stunned to speak.

  “Except they’re not saying we’re meeting. . . . They’re saying . . .” I closed my eyes, too flustered to say the word bed, uncertain what other terms there were for it. “Mr. Forrester’s servant started the rumor.”

  “How the devil does he know?”

  I shivered at the fury in Mr. Macy’s voice. “Could it have been Reynolds—?”