“Well—” Henry threw his hands up—“there you have it. I’m out of ideas.”
Mr. Addams smiled. “Four. Maybe we’ll get lucky. Perhaps this Mr. Macy will take no further pains. And she can pretend it never happened and move on with her life.” He twisted to face me. “If he doesn’t register your marriage in the parish records and enough time passes, you could even remarry. Just don’t tell the vicar.”
Edward half turned and glowered over his shoulder.
“It’s growing dark.” Henry glanced toward the window. “And I don’t fancy spending an extra day here, just waiting. You two need to make a decision.” He turned toward me. “Julia?”
Edward frowned as I was singled out. Henry’s motives were obvious. Of the two of us, I was the more likely to elect the plan Henry favored, saddling Edward with the additional burden of disappointing me if he disagreed.
“I vote Scotland.” I frowned at the irony.
“Ed?”
Edward turned back to the window and stared hard into the night.
“The law,” he said after a long silence. “I want Churchill’s opinion.”
I COUNT THE NEXT TWO DAYS as amongst the most precious of my life. That first night, Edward and I talked into the wee hours. Once Henry and Mr. Addams retired, all encumbrances were gone and we spoke freely, rediscovering each other’s traits and joys.
Alone with Edward, I unburdened myself of every detail about Mama’s death. I told of our certainty that it was self-inflicted, and how the apothecary and I had determined that there was no other option but to conceal it. I explained again how Mr. Macy’s questions had caused me to revisit the scene, this time drawing a different conclusion. And I begged Edward’s forgiveness for failing to confirm Mr. Greenham’s claim. Then, as dawn began to lighten the sky, Edward told me about his decision to become a vicar.
That part was difficult. During his first year at university, he’d fallen in with chums who were dedicated to prayer and revival. It lit a fire in Edward, who had always believed in Christ but had never made the connection that a person could be a full-fledged disciple and not just someone who observed the rites of the church. While at home, he found a mentor, the man whom he wanted to consult for legal advice in regards to me. It was Churchill who first convinced Edward he had to be willing to risk losing me to truly be a follower of Jesus. He had taught Edward that one must be willing to forsake all—mother, father, even future wife.
At first, anger swelled in me at Edward’s willingness to forsake me in his pursuit of God. The thought incensed me. He had held my hands while he spoke about it, and I longed to twist free and refuse to ever speak with him again.
Yet I held my peace for two reasons. First, Sarah was wont to tell me that my performance could shame a banshee when I was aroused; therefore I refused to speak until I regained a measure of control. Second, I had no right to speak. I had not forsaken Edward, but I’d actually married another man. Furthermore, I knew my reasons for doing so were nowhere near as noble as Edward’s. He wanted to change the world at cost to himself, whereas I only wanted to feel safe, regardless of anyone else.
So I listened as Edward shared his faith. To my surprise, despite his belief that I might never return, he had faithfully read my father’s entire collection, studied it, and was ready to present me with counterthoughts. Arguments that were so natural and unadorned, I feared their simplicity.
Somewhere during that long night, I allowed myself to tentatively consider Edward’s faith. Most attractive of all was the mind-set under which Edward operated—that he’d never be left or forsaken by God. It brought to mind my first night in Eastbourne, when I wondered if anything was constant in this world.
Yet so much had changed in my life in the last forty-eight hours that the idea I might lose yet another part of my identity was too overwhelming to consider. I already felt stretched to the point of breaking. Thankfully Edward was not like others I’d encountered. He did not press his suit. He did not watch me with eyes full of hope. Instead, he encouraged me to go to bed and sleep.
The next day was Sunday. While we waited to have the carriage fixed, Edward did not pressure me to attend church. Instead, he tiptoed out of the cottage on his own, leaving me a note in case I woke.
That afternoon, Henry and Mr. Addams pored over the Addamses’ scanty library, hoping to find something of help to me. Edward and I sat before the fire with a deck of cards, playing scabby queen.
I know now he’d purposefully chosen a game that required little thought. In those quiet, empty hours, I recognized my foolishness at believing I loved Mr. Macy. In just two days on the road with Edward, I’d once again gained sight of the girl I’d been, the girl I thought I’d forever lost.
Thus when we arrived at the smithy’s yard the following morning, I was unprepared. As we emerged from the carriage, the young apprentice’s eyes widened at the sight of my gown, but not with respect for my station. Rather, it bordered on disbelief.
While Henry pointed out the bent wheel, the apprentice’s gaze kept shifting to Edward’s collar.
“You a vicar?” he asked when Henry stopped speaking.
“I am.”
The apprentice’s eyes shifted to Mr. Addams. “These friends of yours, Dev?”
Mr. Addams gave a curt nod. “Yes. Why?”
Wiping his hands with a rag, the apprentice’s eyes shifted back to me.
“Something wrong, Abe?” Mr. Addams asked.
The apprentice eyed me, his one hand flexing, as if making an urgent decision. “Get her back in the carriage,” he whispered. “Get her and the vicar back inside it. Then go find a newspaper. You’ll see what I mean.”
“I’m sorry,” Henry said, “but do what—and why?”
The apprentice approached Mr. Addams and bent his head, lowering his voice. “It’s funny, is all. Last night I kept waking up in a cold sweat, dreaming ’bout Burns and that hunting pup. Remember that? Dream after dream, one after ’nother, until finally, after midnight, I figured it were an omen.” He gave Edward a quick apologetic nod. “Not that I actually believe in that sort of stuff. But then looking at the paper this morning—it struck me summat was off, you know, ’bout that reward. And now, here these two are.”
“Reward?” Mr. Addams asked.
The apprentice retreated to a small, dark office, then emerged with a newspaper that fluttered in the wind. “Take it.”
“Oh, of all the absurdity,” Mr. Addams said.
Edward, however, took the paper from the apprentice and searched his face. “Thank you.”
The man flushed, doubtless pleased and embarrassed to have an obvious member of the gentry addressing him so frankly.
The wind refused to allow Henry to open the newspaper. It blew tightly against his fists, refusing to stay open. In desperation, we climbed back into the carriage to have a look.
News of my marriage had already reached the gossip columns. Only the story was twisted. It said I had seduced Mr. Macy in order to secure my position in society. It was reported that I was illegitimate and had blackmailed my father into giving me funds to run away with my lover, a vicar. Mr. Macy had also placed an advertisement, begging for my return. He described my dress in detail, as well as a general account of my looks. Of course, later, he published several of these pleas and I learned that all across England, women gathered weekly in parties, in order to read his heart-wrenching notices and then weep together.
But most stunning of all was the offer of five thousand pounds for my safe return.
“By George,” Henry whispered beneath his breath.
The vast amount brought me the first tingles of awakening. Who in his right mind paid five thousand pounds for the return of his wife?
I stared at Edward, trying to comprehend.
His eyes looked feverish, even as he pulled me tight against himself. He buried his nose in my hair. He clutched me tight, the way a child holds his most precious possession when fearing it will be snatched away.
> I pressed against him too, feeling the hardness of his muscles beneath his suit.
“Flee,” Henry said. “Flee now.”
Edward looked coldly upon him. “And how do you propose I do that, Henry? Without money, with her in that gown, and with everyone on the lookout for her?”
Henry frowned at me. “Haven’t you anything else to wear?”
“No,” I said. “My clothing is at Eastbourne.”
It was obvious what Henry thought next, for he pinched his shirt at his waist, looking at me as if mentally measuring our difference. He scowled, looked at Edward, then skipped to Mr. Addams, who was the slenderest. “What about belting her into one of Devon’s suits?”
“And then what?” Edward sounded surlier. “Don’t you think it will raise questions the first time we enter a dressmaker’s wearing Devon’s clothing? Not that I have money to buy her a wardrobe. You don’t think questions will be raised about us? Because surely in Scotland no one cares about five thousand pounds! It’s nothing short of a miracle that smith is letting us escape!”
Mr. Addams visibly started and then blanched.
“What?” Henry demanded of him.
Before he could respond, the apprentice knocked on the carriage door, having finished his inspection. Henry scowled and climbed out. Mr. Addams pulled the curtains, as if fearing Edward and I would be spotted, before exiting and shutting the door.
“What am I going to do?” I whispered to Edward.
“We,” Edward said. “What are we going to do? This is our problem. Not yours alone.” He cupped my face to view me. “Do you understand?”
Swallowing tears, I nodded.
“Hear me, Juls. I am going to fix this.”
I placed my right hand over one of his, savoring the feel of him.
His hands were already cupping my face; therefore it only took the slightest motion, just a tilt of my head, the lowering of my lashes, to unleash the torrent that had always existed between us.
I scarcely was cognizant of the first kiss—it was hardly a kiss, but more of an affirmation. I was Julia. He was Edward. Nothing could change that. We were still us. Regardless of what passed.
From there it only grew. Every pent-up fear, every desperate hope, every lonely hour we’d lost—all somehow found their way into that moment. It was as though each touch healed, as though Edward were pulling me from the frozen ice in which I’d been encased—and I were doing the same for him.
The carriage door opened, bringing with it a cool swirl of air.
I felt Edward’s body stiffen before he slowly turned to acknowledge Henry and Mr. Addams. I wiped my lips, turning away from their horrified expressions. To my embarrassment, my gaze landed upon the newspaper on the opposite seat that declared me brazen.
“Not one word, Henry,” Edward said in a tone that not even Mama in her most obstinate mood would have disobeyed. “Not one!”
I straightened in my seat, tucking my hair back into place, feeling my cheeks turn scarlet.
Henry’s face was granite, and he stepped into the carriage. Seething, he faced Edward. “This—” he wagged his index finger between us—“I will not tolerate. So help me, Edward, man up and elope with her.” Henry’s nostrils flared as he leaned right into Edward’s face and spoke through clenched teeth. “If I ever catch you acting like that again, while refusing to take the nobler action, I will not hesitate to call you out!”
“What?” Edward still breathed heavily as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You think I intended for that to happen?”
Henry yanked him by his lapels and shook him.
“Henry, stop!” I grabbed one of his hands and tried to remove it from Edward, but he was too strong. “Please, stop!”
All at once, Henry released him and Edward jerked his arm away. The brothers sat panting heavily across from each other.
“Come on. Let’s go,” Mr. Addams said, climbing in. His face matched his hair as he avoided looking at me.
“I’m taking us home, so you can talk to your precious Churchill,” Henry said. “And then I’m leaving you to your conscience. All your pretty speeches, Edward, all your exhortations to follow the gospel, and this—” he pointed between us—“this is the summation? Do not ever attempt to speak to me again about what is noble. You’ve lost that right.”
Once I had seen the vicar back home caught in a lie. When cornered, he grew stately and dignified, and he glared at his accuser with such coldness that even I, from a distance, squirmed.
Edward’s reaction couldn’t have been more different. Pain flushed his eyes before he looked down with anguish at his hands. He could not have seemed more horrified by his actions if he discovered he had strangled someone.
His face contorted as he shut his eyes and faced the window.
I threw out my hand in order to balance myself as the carriage swayed into motion. Edward’s reaction staggered me more than Henry’s rebuke. It was the first time I realized the depth of Edward’s convictions.
Dread prickled along the back of my neck. In the past, Henry had never grown angry when we’d made mistakes. He used to be the first to brush the dust from our clothing and congratulate us after a mischievous prank—no matter the outcome.
The Henry I remembered couldn’t care less if Edward married and then stole me.
Unease filled me, and I gave Henry a keen look, trying to reason this. Only a month ago, he and Elizabeth were firm in their belief that I could lure Edward away from his religious craze.
So why did Henry now fear that his brother would hazard my future and then abandon me to it?
When we stopped before a row of slate-roofed buildings with mullioned windows, Henry hopped out first and began his inspection of the carriage. Edward assisted me, then turned to Henry, who knelt in the dirt with the driver.
“Are you coming with us?” Edward asked him.
Henry frowned, measuring the angle the wheel was bent at with his hand. “Yes, I’m coming.” To his driver, “Take it to Wilson and Sons. I’ll be there as quick as I can.”
Edward directed me to a building trimmed in blue. The hanging sign read, Mr. Winthrop Lydon Churchill. Solicitor.
A shop bell announced our entrance as heat rushed from the building. Scents of caraway and ginger diffused outside. Inside, an elderly man slept by the fire. He reminded me of Luther, our old manservant, except that when he awoke, he wore a friendly smile.
“Edward, my dear boy.” Aged hands gripped the ends of the rocking chair as the man pulled himself to a stand with rheumatic movements. “I thought you had gone visiting.”
Henry and Mr. Addams entered and doffed their hats.
The old man stopped in his tracks as he looked in my direction. He tugged on his ear, considering me. His gaze lingered longest on my gown.
Wrinkled from head to toe, I imagined I looked like Mr. Forrester. My green taffeta gown would never be the same. Some of the lace along the bottom had ripped and hung in a frayed loop. My hair, at least, was pulled back in a plain style and my emeralds were safely tucked inside Edward’s satchel. I returned the frank stare, wondering if he’d read the paper.
The old man gave a heavy sigh. “When you’ve been in this business as long as I have, you learn that visages like yours never bear good news. Come in. Bad news will keep until there’s tea in hand. That is, provided you have the time.”
Henry frowned. “No, we’d much rather get this over with as soon as possible. We’ve a lot of preparations to make.”
“We have time.” Edward glared at him.
The elderly man nodded, shuffling back to his seat. “Very well, then. Edward, will you fetch the service? Hot water is on the stove.”
Edward pulled one of the armchairs away from the overbearing blaze and directed me to it. Then to his brother and his friend, “Henry, Devon, don’t touch anything. Please, just sit.”
Henry snapped down the lid on a box he’d been peering into.
While the gentlemen settled, I tucked my feet
beneath the chair, then smoothed my skirts in hopes that a few wrinkles would uncrease and clasped my hands over my lap. Every nook and cranny was stuffed with small curios, instruments, aged papers, and antiquated pens. Shadows from the fire flickered on both dusty and polished surfaces. Scents of bergamot and orange mixed with the ginger and caraway. Condensation on the windows offered privacy from passersby. What a strange place, I thought with dismay, for my future to be decided.
After five minutes, Edward appeared carrying a tea tray. While Mr. Addams moved a pile of books, making place for the tray, Henry went to the oversized desk and procured the wooden chair for Edward’s use.
Mr. Churchill served tea. My cup was so ancient it lacked a handle and was overrun with hairline cracks, rivalling the spiderlike veins that crisscrossed its owner’s hands. When the last cup had been served, the elderly gentleman faced Edward. “So, boy, why have you brought me Macy’s lost bride? There’s no need to look surprised. One only has to look at her to realize who she is.”
Edward leaned forward as his brows drew together. “I need to know how to assist her. I rashly married the two of them. She left Macy, and I want to maintain her ability to stay away from him. There are things about him—” Edward’s voice was so strained it closed on itself—“abhorrent, unspeakable things. Depravity she cannot possibly fathom. Do you remember telling me once about a case you worked on years ago? His name was Adolphus, I think. Her husband, he is similar to this man. Maybe worse.”
Mr. Churchill recoiled with a shudder. “Edward, to repeat that name is to invite death. I am disappointed in you, boy. I told you about that client in confidence.”
“Forgive me.” Edward rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’ve not slept well. But that is the level of evil we’re dealing with.”
“Have you proof? That’s a grave accusation.”
“You won’t like my answer, but I know because I sense it.” Edward sat straight. “I’m absolutely convinced he’s evil, though I lack proof.”
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