Price of Privilege

by Jessica Dotta

  Edward’s fingers tightened over my shoulder as Hannah turned and stormed toward the kitchen entrance. Beneath the hutch, the dog hitched its ears and watched her retreat.

  I stood stock-still, believing Hannah’s words were a great blow to Edward. To my surprise, he only tramped to the rabbit hutch, where he bent and easily retrieved the rabbit carcass.

  He jounced it in his hands as if weighing it. “Where do you suppose . . . ?”

  Unable to believe he was unaffected, I asked, “Are you not hurt?”

  “Hurt?” He frowned and stood, still holding the hare. “No, and don’t you be either. Did you not notice she only attacked us after her own pride was wounded?” He turned the hare over and gently probed the bite marks. “Some do that, you know. It’s their way of saving face.” He gave a humorless laugh. “I would become a useless vicar, though, if I allowed such people to rule my opinion of myself.”

  I said nothing, the idea too new to form an opinion on.

  Edward tried to pocket the hare, though half of it refused to fit. His brows furrowed. “By george, I’m beginning to wish we had stuck out our tongues. Between Henry and Hannah, I’ve had all I’m tolerating today.”

  “I hate her.” I blinked back tears.

  “Hate? Oh no, let’s not put that much effort into her.” Edward worked to cram the rabbit into his pocket better. “Let’s put that passion to use instead.” Edward took my elbow and directed me toward the front entrance. “I vote we elevate her to head of the Women’s Mission Society. By the time she’s finished her first year, I warrant she’ll have accomplished more than all her predecessors combined. Besides, she’ll answer to you, as vicar’s wife.”

  I smiled, but it was halfhearted.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  I eyed the peeling blue paint of Am Meer’s front door, longing to say I felt unglued, unable to trust my own emotions, but an inner instinct warned me not to yet speak of it. So I nodded that I was fine, adding that discussion to our list of matters still waiting to be addressed.

  Having reached the front door, Edward opened it. “Ready to encounter Mrs. Windham next?”

  I raised an eyebrow at the carcass protruding from his pocket. Wondering what on earth he planned to do with it, I stepped over the threshold, doing my best to keep my swishing skirts from touching it.

  Edward followed, ordering the dog to stay. To my surprise, it plopped to the ground immediately.

  The interior of Am Meer at least felt like a homecoming. Water stains from two centuries prior still decorated a corner of the stone-and-plaster walls. A hodgepodge of walking canes and umbrellas poked out of the oak barrel behind the door. An assortment of capes, bonnets, and shawls filled the tarnished coat hooks, making it near impossible to pass without knocking some garment to the floor.

  “Hullo?” Edward called.

  “Edward?” Mrs. Windham’s voice carried from the drawing room. A moment later, she rounded the corner, eyes and cheeks aglow. She wore her signature ruffled lace lappets, which flapped about her face. Arms spread, she tottered down the hall. “And Julia, too!”

  “Did Hannah not inform you of our arrival?” Edward leaned forward as she tilted up to kiss his cheek.

  “No, she said nothing!” Mrs. Windham released Edward and moved to me.

  “Edith?” A weary voice called from the drawing room. “Whom are you speaking to now? Surely your housekeeper can attend to it.”

  “You’ll never guess, Millicent,” she shouted over her shoulder. “Word of Elizabeth’s gown has already reached the village! The vicar and his bride have arrived to view it for themselves!”

  “Actually,” Edward interjected, “I hoped we might get a bite to eat before the wedding, and Julia needs to change her clothing. Are her trunks still on the carriage?”

  Mrs. Windham ignored him but frowned at me before she spat on her handkerchief and scrubbed my cheek. “You must come and meet my sister and her husband,” she whispered. “Only stand straight and tall, for she said we here in the country slouch. For heaven’s sake, Julia, is this sap over your chin?”

  “Your sister is here?” I glanced down the hall with a growing interest. Mrs. Windham’s sister lived at a distance, and because Am Meer had a limited number of bedchambers, we’d never crossed paths.

  “Why do you linger in the hall?” the woman intoned from the drawing room. “Bring them here and introduce us.”

  “Coming!” Mrs. Windham’s voice was singsong as she grabbed our hands and pulled us toward the drawing room.

  En route, she muttered, “She’s spent the entire morning trying to apprise me of this season’s fashion. Had you but seen the way she abused Elizabeth’s dress to me, you would have been most offended. The very idea that motifs are out! I hope you positively refuse to act polite or put on airs for her.”

  “Outside of our posture,” Edward amended.

  “Yes, yes, whatever you do, you mustn’t slouch.”

  “Out of curiosity,” Edward asked, “did she actually see Elizabeth’s dress before she told you motifs were out?”

  I shot him a look telling him to behave.

  “No indeed, she did not!” Mrs. Windham’s expression soured as her fingers tightened on my arm. “I have not an idea how she knew to insult it.”

  Edward shot me a look of amusement, which I didn’t return.

  Outside the drawing room, Mrs. Windham paused long enough to signal for us to stand taller. Then, placing a smile on her face, she opened the door. “This,” she cried with what I imagined she thought was elegance, “this is Henry’s dear, dear brother!”

  Edward clenched his jaw as she pulled him forward first, but then gave the chamber a stiff bow. I rose on tiptoes, trying to catch a glimpse of Mrs. Windham’s sister and brother-in-law, but they sat near the windows on the far right.

  “Such an interest he takes in his parishioners, too!” Mrs. Windham shoved him a step farther into the chamber and with her free hand groped blindly about for me. “Walking miles just to glimpse the bride’s gown before the ceremony! And wait until you see the gown, Edward! The waist alone boasts of over a hundred pleats and each sleeve has been smocked in two places, below and above the elbow.”

  “If you ask me,” the woman said, “he would do better to attend to his own appearance than tramp about the countryside worrying about Elizabeth’s.”

  Mrs. Windham turned, revealing her profile as she blinked in earnest at Edward for the first time. Her hand stilled its search for me. Edward tried to tame his curls, which from the back looked even more like a battlefield. As he lifted his arms, the dead rabbit popped an inch or two farther from his pocket. Mrs. Windham’s eyes filled with tears as she gave him a reproachful look for such a betrayal.

  “I beg your pardon.” Edward ran his fingers through his tangles. “But my wife is still in the hall. If you both please, may we introduce her and not leave her standing alone? Also, is there any chance there is a bit of breakfast left over?”

  Mrs. Windham turned a sour face in my direction. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Julia.” She reached out and pulled me toward her, stopping only to quickly shake my skirts as if to ascertain I wasn’t likewise hiding rabbit carcasses. “It’s rude to linger on the edges of conversation.” Then, smiling to her sister, “You must not mind her. It is her mother’s fault. She simply refused to correct the girl.”

  I gritted my teeth, suddenly reminded of what life at Am Meer was truly like.

  Mrs. Windham dug her fingers into my arm, giving me a silent command to impress. “Mrs. Auburn, may I present my sister and brother-in-law, Mr. and Mrs. Smih.”

  A middle-aged couple sat at the gateleg table, which had been opened to its fullest extent. Mr. Smih scarcely glanced up as he concentrated on a game of peg solitaire. He could have been any country squire who was advanced in years and fat. Wispy hair framed a balding head. His red nose was bulbous and pocked. A stiff collar managed to contain his double chin, while his best frock coat stretched its mi
ght and main to reach across his stomach.

  I deemed Mrs. Smih decades younger than her husband, but only years younger than Mrs. Windham, though I decided not to test that theory aloud. She sat straight as she studied me. Her hair showed little grey beneath its straw poke bonnet. Like Mrs. Windham, she favored ruffles of lace about her face and throat. Double ribbons of ivory and pale blue from her bonnet, tied beneath her chin, matched her dress and its trim.

  “Hmmm,” she concluded. “Already our vicar shows his maturity over yours. For his wife is the height of elegance and shows great aplomb everywhere she visits. Whatever can yours mean by lingering in halls and attending a wedding in a dirty ball gown?” The skin over her nose wrinkled as she considered Edward. “And what sort of vicar poaches on the way to perform a ceremony?”

  “A hungry one,” Edward complained.

  “No, no, Sister!” Mrs. Windham held out her hands. “This isn’t the gown she’s wearing today! This is what she arrived in last night! The one she plans to wear today we have yet to see.”

  “Arrived only last night, did you say?” She swung her gaze back to me. “Did you leave in the middle of a ball, Mrs. Auburn?”

  “No,” I replied, strangely delighted by the use of my new name, for I found this woman comical, not insulting. She acted as lofty as Lady Beatrice, only without any credentials. “As a matter of fact, ma’am, I travelled from my own wedding.”

  “Your wedding?” She gave a disbelieving cough. “I daresay that must have been some affair.” She looked at her sister. “What indecency to come to Elizabeth’s wedding, still in her bridal attire, so she can put on airs.”

  Unable to stop myself, I spread my skirts and glanced at them. Her point became clear. In London the quality of my travel gown was intended to communicate that I was an heiress. In that parish, even mud-coated, I might as well have been wearing lavish evening attire.

  “I tell you, Millicent, that is not the dress she’s wearing.”

  “How could that not be the dress?” Mrs. Smih slapped the arm of her chair with her palm. “Look at it! Think you that she has anything better in her trunks?”

  Mrs. Windham frowned at my skirts. “Julia, hurry; go and change! Your attire offends as much as Edward’s hair.”

  “Yes, well, on that note—” Edward joined my side and gathered my arm—“if you’ll excuse us both. Would you be so kind as to tell us where Julia’s trunks have been stashed? And have you by any chance any hair wax?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do!” Mrs. Windham squared her shoulders as she enunciated her words. “When Lord Isaac Dalry paid us an extended visit, he left a tin, which I am certain you are more than welcome to!”

  I stiffened, unable to believe she’d revealed that connection.

  Mrs. Smih rolled her eyes. “I tell you again, Edith, I don’t care who that young man claimed he was, it was not Lord Dalry. I saw him with my own eyes not that long ago while I was in London. Now there is one of the most fashionable young gentlemen in all the empire.”

  “And I saw him a great deal while he was here,” Mrs. Windham retorted. “He said that my crumpets were better than the Duchess of Kensington’s, and he would know, too!”

  “And you believed him? The man duped you by using false compliments.”

  Mrs. Windham turned toward Edward. “Wait here. I’ll have Lord Dalry’s own tin of hair wax fetched.”

  “Thank you, but no.” Edward’s voice was cold. “I prefer to be under no obligation to him, now or ever.”

  “As her vicar, you should not humor her mad fancy!” Mrs. Smih clutched the fur-trimmed bertha near her throat. “As long as we’re making up things, why not claim that Lord Melbourne came for tea too?”

  I glanced at Edward, feeling perspiration bead over my forehead, but he looked too angry to be nervous.

  “Well, I’m not giving you a choice!” Mrs. Windham addressed Edward. “I forbid you to look as such during the wedding.” She waved her lace at the rabbit. “And you’ll get rid of that thing before the ceremony, too!”

  “I say.” Mr. Smih finally looked up from his game and squinted at Edward. “What are you planning on doing with that hare, anyway?”

  “Eating it,” Edward snapped, then walked to the door and jerked it open. “Raw!”

  “You’d get a jolly stomachache if you tried.” Mr. Smih moved his next peg. “How long has it been dead, anyhow? Hey, where do you imagine you’re going?”

  Edward ushered me out the door, looking wild with exasperation. Before he exited, he declared, “I’m going to pump water over my head, if you must know.”

  He shut the door with a bang and pinched his eyes.

  Behind the door, their conversation continued. “Who was that chap, anyhow?” Mr. Smih asked.

  “Upon my word, Edith!” Mrs. Smih managed. “That is Henry’s brother? So ill-tempered. What on earth upset him?”

  “He’s no Lord Isaac Dalry, I’ll grant you that,” Mrs. Windham said.

  At that, Edward lifted his head, looking ready to attack the door. Gritting his teeth, he moved us farther down the hall. Near the entrance, he pressed his palms to his forehead. “Is it just me, or is everyone acting abominably rude and out of character today?”

  I shrugged. “Outside of Henry, I detect no difference.”

  Edward’s features sharpened with something akin to pity as he studied me. Thankfully he cast off whatever his thoughts were, for I hated pity worse than anything else. He shook his head and mumbled, “I’m not sure I can handle a full day of this.” Then to me, “Think you can fend off this wolf pack by yourself for a couple of hours?”

  I crossed my arms and hugged them tightly to me. “Yes, I’m fine. This is Am Meer, after all. Not Eastbourne.”

  “All right, then I’m going to the church so I can change into my surplice and review matters with the parish clerk.” His stomach growled. “Do you suppose we might get something to eat in the kitchen?”

  I winced. “If we go through Hannah.”

  He made a noise of disgust. “No. I’ll wait until the wedding breakfast. As far as that goes, it’s intolerable enough that you’re forced to miss the ceremony. If my parents wish to avoid you, let them not attend the reception. What will you do in the meantime?”

  I glanced toward the staircase that led to Elizabeth and wet my lips.

  There was still one more person who could add perspective on how to feel about Henry’s request. “I’ll go help Elizabeth dress. Hopefully her maid isn’t as angry as Hannah.”

  He kissed my forehead. “Even if she is, don’t allow her to bully you from the chamber. This might be your only chance to see smocking above and below the elbow.”

  My laugh was genuine. “A valet and now this! I always knew secretly you were a fop.”

  He displayed his threadbare elbows with a grin. “I’ll see you soon.”

  I kept a smile pasted on my face as I tipped up and kissed his cheek. Nevertheless, I now wished we weren’t about to separate, for Macy’s last words to me arose in my mind:

  “To spare your feelings,” he’d promised, “I’m telling you this in advance. There is no longer an easy transition back to me. . . . I fear you shan’t enjoy being dangled, but know this: no matter how bad it becomes, when you’re returned to me, you shall find me as doting as ever.”

  As Edward turned to leave, I splayed a hand over my stomach, knowing that now was not the time to inform Edward that Macy technically never relinquished his claim on me.

  It was only for a few hours of separation, and there was little sense in sending Edward off to his brother’s wedding feeling the same sickening sensation that I did.

  I LEANED AGAINST the cool plaster wall, drawing a fortifying breath as I listened to the happy cadence of Elizabeth’s and Betsy’s voices. Elsewhere, the occasional snatch of Mrs. Windham’s peacock voice blended with Hannah’s shouts. I shut my eyes. Am Meer had never seemed more squalid, nor our foursome more fractured. The idea that I might also find Elizabeth change
d was so loathsome, I almost couldn’t knock.

  Abruptly, I decided to have this over with. I squared my shoulders and gave the door a sound rap.

  The sound of trunks being scraped against the floor was followed by marbles or coins spilling and rolling everywhere. Though I couldn’t distinguish what Elizabeth and Betsy were saying, their voices became hushed and hurried.

  A moment later, Betsy stuck her head out the door like a frightened turtle coming out of its shell. “Why, ’tis only Miss Julia!”

  “Oh, thank heavens!” Elizabeth held the corner of her vanity, where she bent, panting. Laughing in Betsy’s direction, she added, “Take care you call her Mrs. Auburn now. The new vicar’s wife stands before you!”

  Betsy looked uncertain how to take this communication. Her cheeks filled with color as she gave me a bewildered curtsy. Avoiding calling me anything, she scurried to one of the trunks and resumed packing.

  As Elizabeth wended her way through the maze of trunks, I clasped my hands over my heart. No bride ever looked bonnier.

  Face flushed with excitement, her eyes shone with a rare happiness, making her all the more winsome. Elizabeth wore pale green—a bold choice, despising the superstition attached to that color. Her hair looked as though she’d stepped right out of Camelot. Thick braids wound about her head, and each tendril that escaped glinted with her unique reddish hue. Sprigs of rosemary and lily of the valley were tucked into the braids, making a gorgeous woodland crown.

  “Can you believe today is finally here?” She flung herself into my arms, bringing with her the sanative fragrance from her headdress.

  I leaned forward to avoid brushing the dirt on my gown against hers. Being in her presence was like eating hearty soup with wholesome bread after weeks of nothing except truffles and delicacies.