Edward unlocked the door and opened it, inviting me to explore the interior of Windhaven when ready. As I picked my way along the overgrown walk, I glanced at the gnarled apple tree branches and imagined Nancy and myself making cider and pies. Surely, I reasoned, we could prune the branches in time for autumn fruit.
A gust of wind caught my skirt as I crossed the threshold and stood, allowing my eyes to adjust.
“Granted,” Edward said, “we’ll have to occupy the church until we’ve cleared the cobwebs. We haven’t much furniture to begin with—any, really, but I warrant Abe Duncan would make us some chairs or benches if we asked.”
I was too enraptured to discuss practical matters. Instead, I marvelled at my future home. A mixture of umber beams and posts stood against grey stone walls, giving the house a primitive look but with a French feel. The source of its name became evident as Edward shut the door. The structure was so well crafted that despite the blasts of wind, there wasn’t a whistle.
I walked along the central hall, amazed at the layout of the chambers. Mullioned windows graced every room, promising afternoon teas with sunshine and full view of the pastures. In the back of the house, the kitchen was so low that I doubted Edward could stand upright. Yet its ceiling was the perfect height for Nancy and me. A huge arched fireplace awaited future kettles of soup and pans of fresh bread. A built-in hutch spanned the length of one wall, boasting space enough for platters and dishes to feed a large party.
“Does it please you?” Edward’s voice broke my reveries of the future.
I spun, knowing that tears shone in my eyes. “You realize I shall burn every meal.”
He dimpled. “As long as I’m not eating it.”
I could not banter back. For the first time in months, I had a vision for my life—one with hope. Those who have never had their reality crumble cannot imagine the upheaval it wreaks on a soul. But here, here was recovery.
Edward ducked and entered the kitchen, misunderstanding my sudden tears. “I’m sorry, Juls. I swear, I’ll eat everything you make.”
I flung myself into his open arms and savored the kiss he planted on the top of my head, then wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. Not wanting to be looked at, I laughed to lighten the mood. “How long until we need to go to Am Meer?”
As he carried no pocket watch, Edward faced the window to gauge the time by the sun. Before he could answer, a hollow sound like a tin cup falling to the floor echoed from the next chamber.
I clutched Edward’s sleeve with both hands, giving him a panic-stricken look.
He placed a finger over his mouth. Gingerly as a cat, he crept nearer the door and looked up the small set of stairs.
Like a pond slowly freezing, tingles of cold crept through my fingers and toes as I recalled Forrester’s prediction that anyone I wed wouldn’t last a month. I think on some level I knew then what was coming. My mouth dried as cognizance that even here I wasn’t safe from Macy arose from where it rested beneath my consciousness.
A scratching noise sounded next.
“Announce yourself!” Edward’s tone raised the hair along the backs of my arms. He fisted his hands in the air like a boxer. “I’m armed and will shoot.”
I wanted to reach out and pull Edward away, but stood paralyzed, unable to catch my breath. The noise ceased, increasing the eeriness.
Flattening his back against the wall, Edward carefully started up the stairs, but before he managed the first step, the distinct sound of a dog’s extended whine broke the tension.
White paws appeared at the top of the stairs. In excited submission, the dog rolled on its side, half-exposing its stomach, yet wagging its tail so enthusiastically it knocked the timbers of the floorboards.
“Why, it’s a dog. I imagine it—” Edward stopped. I must have looked as shaken as I felt, for his face softened. “It’s all right, Juls. There’s no one here.”
To my amazement, the scruffy dog crawled down the stairs in a strange dance. He tried to expose his belly while inching along the steps. The result was a sliding, twisting, writhing approach.
Edward’s entire body relaxed as he laughed.
No other permission was needed. In two bounds the dog leapt toward Edward, who squatted in response. “Where did you come from, boy?” Edward asked as the dog squirmed with enthusiasm. “Did you follow us here?”
I stood with my hands crisscrossed over my stomach, which felt as if it’d been plunged into ice. “How did it get inside?” I demanded. “We shut the door. We did! How did it open?”
Edward frowned but stood and wiped his hands over his frock coat, looking down the dark hall. Strands of the dog’s white wiry hair clung to the wool. “I don’t know. I’ll go check. Stay, boy.”
My voice was too strained to speak, so I shook my head.
He didn’t look at me, however, and left before I managed to protest. For the count of fifteen, I held my breath to ensure I could track Edward’s footfalls. The dog lay sphinxlike at my feet, ears hitched, likewise tracking Edward’s progress.
Within a minute Edward reappeared.
“I must not have latched it properly.” He spread his hands apologetically. “We’re safe.”
I gave a nod, though I didn’t agree with his assessment. He lacked full knowledge of our situation. Once more I debated whether now was the proper moment to confess that I’d blackmailed Macy—that Edward needed to expect retribution and that Macy had said something cryptic about still planning to collect me.
“Good boy,” Edward coached as he knelt and scratched the terrier’s ears; then, as the dog rolled over, he rubbed a brown patch of fur on its angled chest. “What do you think, Juls? Should we add him to our household too?”
For a second, fear vanished. The very idea that Edward, my husband and lord, awaited my opinion was dazzling. I drew in a breath, astounded at how good it felt.
I knelt next to him, resisting the dog’s attempts to lick my face. I rubbed my hands over him, allowing tufts of fur to collect at the base of my fingers. I’d all but forgotten Edward’s childhood desire for a dog. I wasn’t sure this was the right one. “Do you suppose he’d be protective? I mean, would he give us warning if there was an intruder?”
Edward scratched the top of the dog’s head. “I suppose.”
The dog entreated me with liquid brown eyes as if knowing its fate rested on me.
“Can it be taught to . . . to attack someone?”
Edward angled his head and studied me a second before taking a stab. “Macy isn’t going to bother us, Juls. Forrester has him contained.”
I gave a bitter laugh. “Yes, well, a truer idiot never lived. If it depends on him, we’re all dead.”
Edward’s mouth pursed in clear disapproval. “Your father trusts him. Besides, someone is aiding Forrester, so he’s not alone in his efforts.”
I lifted guilty eyes. Right before me was the best opportunity to enlighten Edward. Since we’d knelt before the altar two mornings prior, I hadn’t yet managed to tell him the most bone-chilling news in my repertoire. We’d travelled nonstop to arrive in time for Henry and Elizabeth’s wedding. Much of the time in the carriage, Edward slept, having scarcely recovered from an illness. Thereafter, there was so much to catch up on that we’d only started exchanging our stories.
“Yes, well,” I began, curling my fingers around the dog’s fur, “about that . . .”
“May we speak on this later?” Edward cut me short, rising as he eyed the window behind me. His voice was tight. “We’ll practically need to run to be on time as it is.”
I gave him a sharp look, but he avoided eye contact, likely enough because he suspected Isaac was the person helping Forrester. Already we’d discovered that we held opposing opinions of Lord Dalry. Vehemently opposing opinions.
In less than a day, Isaac was a dead topic.
Not fully understanding at the time, I agreed to wait to discuss the matter, deciding I’d rather not cast a pall over the wedding. At least here, I have no regre
t. Nothing I could have confessed to Edward in that moment would have changed the chain of events that followed. Long before the magistrates trundled up the stairs of London House and jangled the bell that sounded our death knell, the consequences of our union were unfolding. Already the clock of our happiness was winding down. Speaking sooner only would have destroyed those last happy minutes.
I gave one last look to the kitchen that turned out to be as hollow as its promises. I longed for the future hour when Nancy and I would break from work, pull chairs to its magnificent stone hearth, and take out our knitting for an hour or so, allowing the wind to howl to its content.
I didn’t want to leave. It was as if I knew that by stepping foot outside those walls, our dream would shatter.
ONCE MORE WE cut through our faerie woods. My thoughts strayed far as I harvested an assortment of wildflowers. I pondered how to broach the subject of my blackmail attempt and the resulting danger. Had I known I was experiencing the last lovely snippets of country life, I’d have stood longer, admiring the jewel-strung spiderweb that glittered with dew, or taken the time to marvel at the way sunlight danced in patches between the trees. As it was, a stone of worry settled in my stomach, making it difficult to appreciate small wonders.
Edward, thankfully, felt no such oppression. For the stretch of that walk, he reverted back to his boyhood as he played fetch with our new companion.
My outlook brightened, however, as we neared the fields flanking Am Meer. Everything I’d dreamed about since childhood was about to be sealed with Henry and Elizabeth’s upcoming nuptials. I picked up my heavy skirts, made all the more cumbersome by mud coating the hem. But no fatigue could outlast me. I was steps away from seeing Elizabeth and Mrs. Windham again.
Edward ran his fingers through his curls as we stepped onto Am Meer’s pebbly lane. “I’m going to look outlandish during the ceremony.”
Unable to offer comfort, I gave him a look of sympathy. Unfortunately his hair did resemble a bird’s nest. And to the best of my memory, I was fairly certain Mrs. Windham didn’t stock men’s hair wax.
“At least Henry will understand.” Edward pulled out a twig and examined it before tossing it aside. “But who knows what everyone else will think.”
“They’ll think you’ve been hiding me in the woods all this time.” I spread wide my skirts, showing the thorns and burs stuck to them.
Edward frowned, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Yes. We still haven’t decided how to explain us yet, have we?”
I sighed, already hating this conversation. We’d yet to agree on a conclusion. Simply put, there was no acceptable explanation. The parish knew Julia Elliston had married Mr. Macy and that their vicar, Edward, unexplainably stole and hid me after the ceremony.
The only thing in our favor was that Mama had refused to visit Am Meer for three years. I’d visited alone six months ago, but thankfully an incessant rain kept everyone indoors and few had seen me. With any luck, no one yet had connected that the bitter girl they’d once known was the famed Emerald Heiress who’d been pictured on the front page of Forrester’s paper only days ago.
“Let’s give no explanation,” I said, feeling cross.
“What? And feign deafness when asked?”
“No.” I lifted my skirts higher to kick a half-rotted walnut still in its hull. “We’ll stick out our tongues and tell them it’s none of their business.”
I have no memory of Edward’s answer, but what I do remember is that the rotted walnut husk sailed through the air farther than anticipated and split apart. Curious whether the nut inside was still whole, I kept my eyes downcast until I’d reached the spot, then turned the nut about with my foot. To my disappointment, it was wormy and shrunken. I gave it one more kick before taking in the landscape surrounding me.
I dropped my skirts, unable to stop gaping.
During my absence Am Meer had altered for the worse.
It was nothing like the homey cottage I’d visited only months prior. I covered my mouth, unable to believe the scene before me. Tangles of ivy encroached over the stone walls, where they invaded the ground and throttled the thorny stalks of the climbing roses. The thatched roof bore patches of moss, and entire tufts of straw were blackish. Soot charred the brick chimney, whose gingerbread-house design I had always adored. I turned toward the gardens, which were equally disharmonious. Plants had broken rank, privates daring to mingle with brigadiers. There was no order anywhere; all manner of beds were clumped and clustered together.
I swallowed hard, unable to imagine how anything could alter so greatly in less than a year.
The scene was a beehive of activity too. Harry, the manservant, was busy setting up chairs around long tables that had been placed in the herb garden. I wrinkled my nose, assuming Mrs. Windham was planning to serve the wedding breakfast outdoors. The hall boy, Caleb, raced barefoot with a stick, trying to chase geese from the area. Next to the table, a brown cow lowed and tugged against a stake, making a racket. I nearly groaned with embarrassment. Couldn’t Mrs. Windham see how positively ill-bred it was to keep kine within sight of the table? Even my father’s groom had been pulled into the operation. I recognized his telltale velvet coat as he tied ribbons to tree branches.
Shouts drew my attention to the right side of the cottage, where Hannah mopped her red face with her apron as she yelled orders to a young girl dumping slop in the pigsty. What on earth possessed them to move the pigpen so near the house? It made no sense. Surely in the summer heat the stench would—
Memory awoke of a childhood game Elizabeth and I had played one day. We’d made a contest of pitching decayed apples into the pigsty from an upper window. Points were awarded for the cores that landed closest to the sleeping sow. Other memories—the sly looks of disapproval that Mama cast Sarah during our visits, the manner in which Mama would hastily run her handkerchief over a chair before sitting—rose as well.
Tingles raced the length of my spine. Am Meer hadn’t changed.
I had.
We are called to cast aside all in our holy pursuit—mother, father, sisters, brothers, houses, occupations. I did likewise in pursuing my own dream. Since leaving this parish, I’d done everything in my power to ensure this very day would come. I’d spurned Isaac, blackmailed Macy, and squandered all hope of a relationship with my father. Never once had I considered that, after achieving my childhood dream, I might find I’d outgrown it.
I wrapped my shawl tightly against me, feeling misplaced and uncertain about everything. Had I not stood on this very ground last night and thought Am Meer beloved?
Edward gained my side, but he only squinted toward the cottage. “What on earth is he doing here?”
Alarm rose through me as I looked in the direction Edward had indicated.
Someone, a male to be exact, jogged down the lane. Though it should have been evident we noted him, he took off his cap and waved it wildly above his head, revealing shockingly red hair.
I laughed, both relieved he had nothing to do with Macy and grateful for the distraction. I’d met Mr. Addams only twice in my life, but already I held him in high esteem. I slid my arm through Edward’s, then rose on tiptoes, willing to be cheered by one of my newer friends.
Mr. Addams waited until he was closer, then grinned. “See! All’s well that ends well. Were I less polite, I might take this opportunity to say I told you so. You should have eloped months ago.” He gave a spirited laugh. “I don’t know whether to congratulate the pair of you or prepare for another crisis.”
“Well met, my friend.” I stepped forward, offering my hand. “It’s good to see you.”
“Devon.” Edward’s tone was far from welcoming. “Why are you here? I supposed you with Henry.”
“Yes, well, it’s very pleasant to see you, too. Hope you’ve had a nice journey and all that.” Mr. Addams gave Edward a good-natured bow. “I am with Henry, only he’s disappeared minutes ago in his quest to find you.”
“Find me? Why? What happened?”<
br />
I nudged Edward’s rib cage as a reminder to mind his manners. His body was stiff, making me wonder if he’d even registered my touch.
“What? You think I carry influence over Henry? I haven’t a clue what’s happening. He refused my confidences, though there was a good row at your house this morning.” Mr. Addams balled his fist in his hat as if expanding its crown. “And he was ruddy set on finding you afterwards.”
This news clearly angered Edward. His voice took on a tone of cold fury. “He told them! He actually told them when I expressly said not to.” Then to Mr. Addams, “Where is he?”
Not following what was happening, I questioned Edward with a look.
Mr. Addams pointed toward the trees bordering Am Meer. “He went in there, looking for some oak—”
“The ancient oak,” Edward murmured, shaking his arm from mine. He stalked in its direction.
Mr. Addams gave a low whistle, then chuckled. “Now there’s a classic conversation with Edward Auburn for you. And to think you could have married Lord Dalry.”
I made a wry face, uncertain how to take either of his statements. His evaluation of Edward alarmed and his mention of Isaac hurt. “I didn’t want Lord Dalry,” I snapped back, feeling testy. “Do you mean to tell me Edward always acts surly with you?”
“Me?” Mr. Addams laughed in earnest. “Oh no! I at least am able to draw conversation from him, which is better than most. I take it you’ve never been on the stingy end of his temperament?”
“Once,” I said absentmindedly, for Henry had emerged from the trees and now headed toward his brother. “When Ed thought I had broken our engagement and hired Lady Foxmore to find me a husband. He wasn’t happy then.”
Mr. Addams roared with laughter, though I hadn’t intended to be humorous. “Yes, I imagine that would have managed the trick.”
Price of Privilege Page 3