Price of Privilege

by Jessica Dotta

  I squared my shoulders and stared, astonished.

  “Miss P—er, Mrs. Auburn.” Thomas picked up his fallen wig from the floor and gave it a quick shake. “I beg your forgiveness. I don’t know who this man is, but allow me to remove him from your presence.”

  “You’ll have to grab hold of me first,” the elderly man said, catching his breath. He pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his frock coat and dabbed his forehead. Then, with a knobby finger, he indicated the perimeter of the chamber. “And I’m quite capable of running in circles for hours without tiring. You’d be much smarter to leave me to my business and go attend yours.”

  Thomas’s wary expression bade me to stay put as he approached the stranger to apprehend him.

  “Wait just a second,” the man wheezed, holding up a finger. “Tell me, who is this Master Isaac? I might trump him.”

  “I highly doubt that.” Thomas seized hold of the elderly man’s arm.

  “Then maybe I know him. If I do, I’ll report you.”

  “Even if you could, he’s not truly my master.”

  “Oh, how delightful!” the elderly man cried as Thomas started to drag him out the door. With a strength that surprised me, he caught the wooden door stile and managed to keep his head in the chamber. “In that case, I promised Master Barnabas that I would do the exact opposite of Master Isaac’s wishes. And I win, because Barnabas comes before Isaac! We’re going alphabetically, in full accordance with the rules of pitting imaginary masters one against another!”

  A stunned silence followed.

  “Well, come on. Save me!” the man pleaded with me. “He’s far stronger than he looks.”

  “Wait!” I ordered, leaning forward for a better look.

  I knew this game! Only I had never guessed that it originated outside of Edward and Henry. This had to be Jameson. There was no other explanation. He was playing one of our nonsensical games from childhood, ignoring that it made him appear foolish. I gave him a keen look and was delighted to find that his eyes twinkled.

  Had Jameson approached me directly, I would have resented his intrusion. Had he carefully sidled his way to our acquaintance as if I were a piece of unfired porcelain, I would have despised the suggestion that I was weak. Had he ignored me, I’d have grown offended. But that Jameson wrapped his introduction in a game that only I would understand, not caring a whit what Thomas made of him, made me instantaneously approve. No, not just approve, but feel like laughing. Furthermore, he’d left the best answer for me!

  “You both lose,” I said, straightening. “I have my orders from Master Aaron. He says I have final say on all matters, forever, and can overthrow any rule you tack on after this.”

  “Ow!” Jameson let go of the wood to cover his heart, causing both men to stumble backwards. He shut his eyes as if he’d been shot. “Enslaved forever!”

  It was a move I’d seen Edward mimic a hundred times before. I covered my mouth to hide a smile I could not suppress.

  Jameson opened one eye and looked askance at the groom. “Quick, quick! Think of a name that alphabetically comes before Aaron.”

  The groom looked between us as if we were mad.

  I couldn’t help myself; I laughed aloud. Then asked, “Jameson?”

  He removed his hat, stepped back through the door, and gave a sweeping bow. “We finally meet, O girl who has been the subject of over a thousand of my lectures.”

  “A thousand?” I repeated.

  He bobbed his head. “At least. Since Edward was yea high, I’ve given him every fathomable reason why he can’t marry you. It has been out of the question since the very beginning. Yet the notion formed in his head, seemingly out of nowhere—some working of your magic, I shouldn’t wonder. The more I lectured him, the more headstrong he grew.” He snapped his fingers, then wagged one of them at me. “Ha! Oh, now that was sneaky of you! You used your craft to turn my lectures against me! Then, this year, I finally won! Marriage to you became an outright impossibility. Yet here you are! Against reason. Against odds. I concede, O my most worthy foe.” He gave me another deep bow. “For surely you are something elfin or faerie. Perhaps I am in the presence of a Gwragedd Annwn?”

  Poor Thomas. Had we started speaking gibberish, he couldn’t have looked more alarmed. His eyes darted between us as if he was waiting for my permission to handle Jameson while feeling uncertain about me too.

  Jameson waited with merriment for my reply, and though I longed to respond just as fancifully, I feared looking foolish. I kept my reply on safe ground. “Did Edward send you? Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, he sent me. And all is as right as rain.” He stretched kinks from his lower back. “Well, excluding that our branch of the family no longer speaks to the rest of the tree . . . and that the congregation feels betrayed by Edward—oh, and also that her ladyship unexpectedly arrived to witness the ceremony.” He pocketed his handkerchief. “But that’s the risk one always takes when allowing a fair folk into their brood. Compared to the legends, I’d say we escaped with rather light consequences. I warrant they don’t appreciate losing members of their court. No doubt you hold some influence over the hob king and begged him to go easy on us.”

  His manner was playful, but his words brought about stark dread—particularly the mention of Lady Foxmore.

  I looked out the window in the general direction of the church, surmising more than he said. A valet generally would attend the wedding of the eldest son. There had to be a reason that Edward sent a servant he trusted.

  Here, my sense of dread for Edward rose. While my ordeal from this morning had ended, his trial was just commencing. For how many months had he abandoned his parish to live on London streets to be near me? I could picture him standing before their hostile faces with an iron will of his own as he cut ties with his family.

  “If I might make a suggestion.” Jameson interrupted my thoughts and gestured to Thomas. “Why not have the carriage readied, just in case.”

  Alarm fluttered through me as I wondered if matters were so bad that we’d need a quick getaway.

  “I don’t think it’s wise to leave Mrs. Auburn alone.” Thomas stared pointedly at Jameson.

  “Nonsense, I’ll stay here the entire time.” Jameson addressed me next. “Have you an apron? Let’s hie to the kitchen.”

  “Apron?” I repeated, not able to connect how that would aid Edward.

  “Yes! We have an entire wedding reception to prepare for. And I know for a fact that Hannah is short on hands.”

  Thomas’s eyes bulged, for to him I was the Emerald Heiress, a Pierson. It was unthinkable that I’d don an apron and work.

  “Is the carriage ready?” I asked him.

  He frowned. “Well, no, but—”

  “Do as he says,” I commanded before he could object. “I’ll be fine.”

  Dissatisfaction spread over his features, though he struggled to hide it. “I promised Master Isaac,” he pleaded in a whisper, “that I would protect you if anything outside of the ordinary happened.”

  I felt myself blanch. “I know what Lord Dalry feared,” I said quietly, feeling subdued. “It wasn’t Jameson. This is my husband’s lifelong servant. He’s trustworthy.”

  Thomas looked dubious.

  Annoyed that my word didn’t carry weight, I dismissed him by giving him my back and only addressing Jameson. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the kitchen.”

  As we entered the kitchen, my stomach grumbled at the scent of butter, parsley, and roasted pigeons. I backed against the nearest wall, curious to see what Jameson planned. To my surprise, he marched straight to the wedding cake. It stood three layers high. Each layer had been cut and was filled with Hannah’s signature strawberry jam and clotted cream. Candied flowers lay atop the rim of each layer.

  “Now then,” Jameson declared, taking a dollop of cream and jam from the bottom layer. He added a sugared nasturtium and popped his finger in his mouth. “Let’s test the most important item and . . . see . . .
if . . .” He faced me and smacked his mouth, then stuck out his tongue. “Ack, no! Too peppery!” With vigor, he plucked the crimson, orange, and red flowers from the cake. “We’re going to leave only the candied violets.”

  I half expected Hannah to charge into the kitchen. “I don’t know if you should do that.”

  “Better and better.” He stepped back, dusting his hands as he inspected his handiwork. “I’ll go move the cow out of the garden; you set the table. There’s a large kitchen towel, there, to pin and use as a makeshift apron. I noted that Hannah weighted the tablecloth with rocks. The weight of the flowers will keep it in place and look better.” He pointed to crocks filled with buttery-yellow narcissuses. Surveying the long trundle table laden with dishes, he instructed, “Looks like Hannah created three of each, so spread them out in thirds.” He grinned. “Shall we race?”

  “But you’re only moving a cow,” I protested.

  “Go!” He dashed from the kitchen.

  For a moment I stood disbelievingly. I stared at the stewed oysters and molded galantines, uncertain whether or not it was demeaning to my station. Then, with a skip of my heart, I realized I was a vicar’s wife. This was the life I’d wedded into.

  As inexperienced as I was, I tried to carry the majority of the jars at once. Water sloshed over the crocks, soaking my dress and adding the chore of refilling them. Next I realized I didn’t know what to do with the rocks on the table. My duties had never required resourcefulness. I lifted the first stone and spun slowly in two circles, trying to figure out where it would be out of the way.

  “Not fair!” Jameson cried from where he tugged on a rope, trying to get the cow to move. “No faerie magic! Now the geese have wandered into the garden, giving you an unfair advantage.”

  It was comical, as a gaggle had indeed entered and made a fuss at him, hissing and beating their wings. Jameson tethered the cow in a new spot and then started herding the geese from the garden.

  When finished, he joined me in the kitchen. “I won!”

  Grinning, I shook my head, pleased to find that this servant’s humor was similar to Edward’s. “Good,” I replied, curiously already at ease with him. “Now you can help me set the table.”

  From there, my thoughts returned to my new husband as I picked up a platter of mayonnaise of fowl. Knowing he wasn’t having as good a time as I was, I determined to pray for him. But that in itself presented a problem.

  My religious training was scant, born of my own experiences and conclusions I’d drawn from Edward’s notations in his Bible. Therefore no one had yet taught me how to pray. Thus, as I reset the hard-boiled eggs decorating the edge of the platter, I mentally composed and memorized a formal prayer that I intended to verbalize when I had time alone, as though it were a spell to be cast.

  My stomach cramped for want of food as I directed my course back into the cottage. Yet I considered my hunger to my benefit. For prayer and fasting certainly accompanied each other in the Bible. Surely it would advance rather than hinder the process.

  The tang of smoke stung my eyes as I lifted my skirts and stepped back into the heat of the kitchen.

  To my surprise, Jameson had rearranged all of Hannah’s garnishes. My mouth dropped, but before I could rebuke him, the merry sound of church bells rang over the country, announcing Henry and Elizabeth’s vows were completed.

  I bent my head, trying to picture them as they walked down the aisle, taking care to keep their eyes straight ahead lest they acknowledge anyone, lest they give offense. Mrs. Windham would leave the church next. How well I pictured the teary way she’d draw attention to herself as she clung to her sister’s arm. I envisioned Edward dutifully standing, arms stiffly at his side, as he waited for the church to empty. Mr. Addams would leave last, after paying Edward. As far as I was concerned, that moment couldn’t come soon enough.

  Realizing I’d sunk deep into my thoughts, I wiped my hands over the tea towel pinned about my waist. When I turned, I found that Jameson was carefully considering me, forming his opinion.

  Feeling the need to fill the silence, I spread my hands over the remaining food and said the first thing that came to mind. “We’re never going to manage this before they arrive.”

  He grinned, losing the ken that filled his eyes only seconds before. “Why couldn’t the boy fall in love with an ordinary fay, one who hides in pantry shadows and sweetens the honey, or something else of that ilk? No! He insists on wooing none other than one of the royalty. One who knows nothing about humans.” He shook his head. “I am to be pitied amongst men, for it’s my task to turn you into a vicar’s wife, and there’s no telling what happens to a soul when he angers one of your folk.” He moved his hands like a costermonger, keeping his crowd enthralled. “Watch, O most virtuous queen.” From their ledge behind the soapstone sink, he took down two large trays. “Since we lack thousands of wee folk to run each dish separately to the banquet table, we use these.”

  Had I not seen him trying to puzzle me out a moment earlier, I would have laughed. But knowing his mannerism was solely for my benefit, I only smiled. I felt weary and simply wanted Edward back.

  “Here, why don’t I take that one?” I said, starting to lift one of the trays, but before I’d even placed it on the table to fill, hooves pounded down the lane.

  My breath quickened, and without meaning to, I reached out and grasped Jameson’s arm. Before my thoughts progressed, the front door of the cottage banged open.

  “Mrs. Auburn!” Mr. Addams’s voice called and then became muffled as he ran into the drawing room. “Mrs. Auburn?”

  I took a deep breath. “In the kitchen,” I shouted. “At the end of the hall.”

  He arrived all pothered, tripping over his own feet. Breathless, he hastened across the kitchen and grabbed my wrist. “To the ancient oak! Hurry!”

  Jameson gave him a curt nod as if letting Mr. Addams know he had his permission to drag me from Am Meer into the woods.

  “What?” I pulled back. “Where’s Edward?”

  “Oh, he’s fine!” Mr. Addams grinned over his shoulder. “I don’t know how you two do it—or who knows, maybe it’s just you. But it’s all broken loose again. Come on! I’ve only just managed to keep ahead of them.” He laughed as he flung open the kitchen door, allowing air and sunshine into the smoky kitchen. “I’ve never seen anything like the pair of you!”

  Jameson followed and called after us, “Tell Edward I’ll bring food.”

  “Oh, he’ll thank you for it,” Mr. Addams yelled over his shoulder. Then to me, “Quick, how do we get to the oak?”

  I pointed to the path through the spinney. “What happened?”

  He grinned, shaking his head. “Without doubt you are the most passive person I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, yet everything happens to you! It’s as if life is trying to force you to act. But why would you? Adventures fling themselves at you, out of nowhere. This morning is a perfect example. You travel to attend a wedding, and that simple act divides a family, like lightning splitting a tree.”

  I felt my throat knot. If that was his idea of adventure, he could have it.

  “And even without your attendance—” He halted, and his grip tightened over my wrist. “Quick!” He squatted in the tall grass. “Get down! Don’t let them see you.”

  His tone compelled me to obey. I hunched next to him as the rumble of carriages and the murmur of people filled the air.

  Four plumed white horses rounded the bend, pulling a travelling chariot decorated with flowers announcing its occupants were Henry and Elizabeth. Young boys ran alongside the horses, whooping and hollering. One lad in particular took it upon himself to shake the belled harness.

  I watched, horrified, but the driver trusted his team, for he smiled indulgently and kept his steeds to a walk. Behind them, the mass of villagers who followed comprised men smoking pipes or carrying fiddles, and women talking hurriedly in groups. Only the youths seemed excited, though not in the manner I expected.

 
; Normally the girls waved ribbons and hoisted banners of flowers while the boys chased each other. Instead there was an overactive quality about them—their eyes were full of some mischievous pleasure. The rowdier boys even hit and shoved each other.

  I frowned. Was it the custom here for only the children to celebrate the wedding? At my village, one heard the fiddlers and singing long before the newlywed couple was spotted. I started to rise, shielding my eyes to gain a better look.

  “No!” Mr. Addams yanked me back down, rather violently. “Don’t allow them to see you.”

  I shot him an angry glance, surprised by his use of force. “Why ever not?”

  “Look at their faces.” He pointed to the adults. “My orders are to keep you from their clutches. I’d rather face your Macy fellow than learn what Edward would do if I allowed something to happen to you.”

  Angling my head, I returned my gaze to the passing party. Now that he mentioned it, they did look eerily expectant, like spectators at a hanging. The women’s faces wore hard edges, and the men’s brows were sculpted with angry lines as they argued amongst themselves.

  “Come on!” Mr. Addams urged.

  But I wouldn’t move. The wedding carriage had stopped before the garden. Henry disembarked. His expression was even harder than those of his guests as he lifted up his arms. Just as Elizabeth’s pale face emerged from the darkness of the carriage, Mrs. Windham released a loud, sobbing wail.

  Henry’s face grew a dusky red, but he continued to hold out his arms as if deaf.

  Elizabeth met his eyes. Her mouth thinned, but as if determined to ignore her mother, she allowed him to lift her down.

  I sucked in my breath. Her dress was blotted with dirt and dripping stains that I couldn’t identify.

  “They weren’t aiming for her,” Mr. Addams whispered in comfort. “They were pelting Edward. She just got too close. Henry blackened one of their eyes for his poor aim, let me tell you.”

  I was too horrified to respond. For I’d seen enough people in the pillory as they were assailed with trash to realize what had happened to Elizabeth’s dress. Nevertheless, I could scarcely frame the question. It felt too unreal. “They pelted Edward?”