Price of Privilege

by Jessica Dotta

  “But only—” Jameson added a clause as he added his chair—“if Mrs. Auburn tells me what happened at her first breakfast that stole her appetite.”

  “Unfair!” I cried. “I haven’t agreed to that!”

  Jameson grinned as he tucked a napkin into his collar. “Well, I’ve already sat, and you wouldn’t deprive an old man of the once-in-a-lifetime chance to eat at Lord Pierson’s breakfast table. Besides, it will give you practice using your words.”

  “As well as giving me practice at leading,” Edward interjected.

  Jameson gave the food a piteous look. “And I’m hungry. Starving, even.”

  I knew my father’s words were a reflection of him and not of me, but to admit that someone thought poorly enough of me to justify demeaning me demanded a second humiliation. Ashamed, I felt my eyes blur.

  “There, see it?” Edward pointed his knife as he lifted a forkful to his mouth. “That’s the look that tells me something needs to be discussed and addressed.”

  “Oh yes, I do see it.” Jameson emptied my father’s coffee onto his plate, shook the cup, then poured tea from my yellow pot. “Rule number four of the herd, Mrs. Auburn—and keep a mind that the rules are numbered by priority, so this is the fourth most critical point about belonging to—”

  “What are the first three rules?” I asked, hoping to turn the topic.

  “Bad form!” Jameson chided, spreading caviar on toast. “Interruption! Though I shall allow it this morning, as I like that it was done in an attempt to communicate. As for the other rules, I’ll make them up as needed.”

  “Then I already declare my refusal to obey them.”

  Jameson’s eyes crinkled. “No, no! What if I make the first rule to refuse the rules—binding you to obey them? That would leave all sorts of possibilities open. I could use the second or third rules to enslave you or make you walk backwards for life.”

  Edward drew a deep breath, then chewed his breakfast doggedly as if barely able to endure more absurdity.

  I gave him a sympathetic look, realizing he wasn’t going to give up until he knew. “Really, it isn’t that important. My father said something that hurt to hear. That’s all.”

  Edward moved slowly, like someone trying to coax a wild animal to them. “Just tell me, then.”

  Rather than make the matter seem more significant than it was, I swallowed my pride and outlined the talk this morning, as well as what happened when I entered the conversation and said that I trusted Jameson.

  As I expected, the air fairly sizzled with the following silence as Edward and Jameson locked eyes in a mute but determined conversation.

  “When Jameson entered the chamber,” Edward finally said, noting that I watched them, “we were talking about your father’s bad humor. I was trying to point out that it is unconnected to you or your actions. There’s no correlation between your actions and his reactions. It depends upon his mood and his need to dominate. It’s not about timelines for breakfast. Even if you could manage to be exactly on time every day, he’d fault something else—the way you ate, the color of your dress. You’d never win but would always blame your own inadequacies.”

  “He wasn’t speaking of my being late but of the fact that I betrayed him.”

  “How? By marrying me? So what. How many other daughters do you imagine have married outside of their fathers’ choices through elopement or stubbornness? We haven’t gotten into this yet, Juls, but you haven’t committed any sin that isn’t common to everybody. You’re no better or worse than the rest of humanity.”

  I glanced at Jameson, who listened with a bent head. His nods of approval were nearly imperceptible.

  Once, in a dream, I’d wandered down a long, narrow passage that held a mirror at its end. Each step toward that mirror filled me with dread, though I couldn’t think why I should fear gazing into it. As I sat at breakfast that morning, the sensation returned. Petulant, I narrowed my eyes. “Well, there you disagree with my former vicar. He constantly threatened damnation because I needed to take responsibility for my sins and repent.”

  “For your sins, yes,” Edward agreed. “But taking responsibility isn’t allowing someone to hold you in chains over it. Besides, your father walked you down the aisle, Juls. What great sin are we talking about? He gave you away. If he didn’t like it, he shouldn’t have done it. Is he angry about your time with Macy? Then he never should have offered you protection. But to participate and then resent you for it . . . it’s unconscionable.”

  It was agonizing not to speak. For none of us had told Edward about Forrester’s newspaper article. Since the marriage was going to happen regardless, I hadn’t taken issue with my father’s affectations toward his future son-in-law, appearing as if he’d finally relented and agreed to the marriage. Now I saw its folly.

  “If he wants to hold being human against you, that’s his issue, not ours,” Edward concluded.

  I sighed. For I hadn’t just eloped. I’d blackmailed Macy, left Isaac penniless. I’d snatched away any yield my father would have gained from the greatest risk he’d ever taken. “You don’t understand.”

  “I do, better than you realize. He’s not interested in developing rapport with you, just dominating. And I’m not interested in standing by as you devastate yourself trying to win something unattainable.”

  Inwardly his words agitated me. He didn’t understand, and repeating it wouldn’t help.

  Edward flicked his eyes to the ceiling and then to the walls as if unable to believe the magnificence of this house. “I won’t push further. This is something you’ll have to see for yourself before you can accept it. There are people I’d like to go and visit today,” Edward said quietly. “People who will rejoice to learn I won my bride. Some to whom I owe my very life. I know you dislike the awkwardness of meeting new souls, but would you come with me today?”

  “Ooh! Expanding the herd,” Jameson said, lifting his head and smiling. “I just remembered rule number one!”

  I laughed, feeling my own tension break. “No, you didn’t. You just made that up.”

  “No. I’d merely forgotten it until this second.”

  “Will you come with me?” Edward asked over us as if determined not to lapse into nonsense again.

  I glanced outdoors, recalling the hours I’d stood looking longingly outside. I’d grown so used to life indoors that, now that the hour was upon me, I found myself afraid. How many times had my father preached to me the dangers of leaving London House? Even Macy had taken care to station his men outside the structure as if London were a starving cat ready to snatch up the mouse on its first appearance.

  Beneath the table, I wiped my hands over my skirt. “I’m not supposed to. I am an emerald heiress.”

  “Who knows it but us? Who can forbid you from it except me?”

  I bit my lip. “And if Macy is still watching?”

  “What if he is?” Edward countered. “As Henry insists, bullies need to be punched in the nose. I refuse to allow Macy to hinder our life.”

  I touched the bottoms of my palms, feeling the scars left from my encounter with Eramus. Even if I weren’t Lord Pierson’s daughter or watched by Macy, there were still other dangers.

  Then memory surfaced of Mr. Macy removing his black onyx ring from his finger and handing it to me as protection. It was a sign to London’s criminal world that I wasn’t to be touched. Thus far, I’d seen its effectiveness when two magistrates hied from my presence, leaving behind questions of Eramus’s death. Like Rebekah hiding an idol in her saddlebag, I’d ripped open one of my petticoats and sewn the ring into its lining. It was an easy enough matter to retrieve it.

  “I’ll go,” I said, rising. “But allow me to change my shoes first.”

  “Hurrah!” Jameson grinned approval as he pushed back his chair to stand.

  Edward didn’t celebrate as I expected, but rather he studied me as if sensing something had come between us. He nodded, looking thoughtful. “Come back and eat a large breakfast. We�
�ll likely miss lunch and tea.”

  “HAVE YOU ANYTHING on your personage worth pickpocketing?” was Edward’s question to me as James opened the door.

  I considered Mr. Macy’s ring, which hung beneath my clothing on a golden chain. Surely that wasn’t worth stealing, for likely it would cost any petty thief his life. “No, nothing.”

  Edward turned and stepped backwards over the threshold of London House. He grinned, dimpling his chin. “Are you ready to see London as you never have?”

  I smiled as if excited, but in truth, the dour expression on James’s face as he held open the door behind Edward made my stomach twist with nervousness. His black brows slanted in severe disapproval and his mouth pursed angrily. His warning couldn’t have been clearer—this was the height of recklessness, and as soon as he was dismissed, he planned on locating my father or Lord Dalry.

  At the top of the stairs, Edward lifted his face and breathed deeply. “Ah. Can you smell that? Sewage, coal smoke, and horse urine. London at her finest!”

  I started to grin, but across the street, maids were busy scrubbing the opposite house’s front steps. They paused in their work, their hands so raw I could see their redness from where we stood. Their frank surprise told me they knew the Emerald Heiress was on the stoop of London House, wearing a middle-class dress and a tattered shawl. I tightened my hold on Edward’s arm. “We should have taken the servants’ exit.”

  “Why?”

  I nudged my head in their direction. “They recognize me.”

  Edward glanced with a polite nod. “We’re not the ones hiding, Juls. That’s your father and Dalry.”

  I turned my face, glad that my bonnet had a wide brim, allowing me to block their stares. “Nevertheless, it doesn’t mean I want anyone looking at me.”

  Edward laughed, starting us down the stairs. “Come on. This is officially our honeymoon. I do want to stop by the Holywell area. Perhaps I can find work with the booksellers and still maintain my studies. There are some friends I’d like to introduce to you near there, but other than that, the day is yours. What would you like?”

  “Hyde Park!” I tugged on Edward’s arm. “I asked again and again to visit it. But we never did.”

  His nose wrinkled. “Why not?”

  “Safety.”

  His arm tightened with anger at the ludicrousness of that argument, but he gave a quick nod. “All right, but I’ll warn you, it’s not our woods. There are some pretty footpaths, though. We’ll get it out of the way by going there first, as it’s right around the corner. What else?”

  I thought of Windhaven with a pang of regret. How much better would it be to stand on that hill, breathing air fresh with morning dew, feeling the wind ripple my shawl. I shook my head. There wasn’t anywhere I wished to go outside of Hyde Park, and only there because it had long been denied me.

  But then, as if the idea came from outside of me, I found myself saying, “What about the orphanage that Lord Dalry and I visited? Do you know where that is? There was a little girl there I wanted to . . .”

  Visions of that courtyard with the girls marching in the freezing wind and wearing thin rags returned to mind. How well I could still envision the spark in the eyes of the little girl who had drawn me to her with a glance. She’d remained rigid with hope, stock-still, while I argued with Isaac in a bid to adopt her.

  “I remember reading the article.” Edward pulled on his gloves, his face frank. “With the little girl you kept in your arms? Who was she?”

  I nodded, realizing how awful it was that I never thought to ask her name.

  “Never mind. What were you beginning to say?”

  I gave the street a hopeless look. “I’ve never seen anything like that place. She broke my heart. I saw her from a carriage window when she glanced in our direction. It was like . . . like I could see all her pain. But more than that, I saw her. She was thin and starving, but her soul was fighting to survive. And I wanted so badly to—” I surprised myself by feeling a touch of the fiery passion I experienced that day. I clamped my mouth shut and shook my head. Then followed a yearning to confess the whole truth, for I hated all the things that were gathering between Edward and me. I didn’t want one more. “I . . . I even offered to marry Lord Dalry if he’d let me adopt her.”

  “What happened?”

  I gave an embarrassed laugh, feeling the color rise in my cheeks. “It was . . . I mean, it was foolish of me, I know. Isaa—Lord Dalry got some of my father’s cronies to investigate the orphanage.”

  Edward listened, his face stoic. “Have you ever felt anything like that sensation before?”

  I felt my blush deepen. “Yes, once. Do you remember the time those boys were hurting that nest of baby robins?”

  Edward tilted his chin up as he laughed. “Oh, my word! Yes! I was too far away, or I would have rushed to your aid, but you were magnificent. Your eyes blazed like Joan of Arc’s as you brandished a stick and pelted at them full speed. I can still picture Jeremiah’s face as he paled and raced back to Auburn Manor. He wore a velvet suit that he’d bragged about to Henry and me that morning. He looked like a complete mollycoddle running away from a girl half his size in pigtails. Do you remember how upset you were over the one they killed?”

  I blinked, not remembering that part of the story. My recollection stopped with the image of four boys running away, one looking over his shoulder, aghast with fear.

  “You held it in your hand and sobbed and sobbed,” Edward filled in. “Then you roared to life again, and I had to grasp you about the waist, holding you in place while you screamed for me to release you. You were going to chase them down with your stick again. Don’t you remember?”

  Bulging eyes. Pale skin, the color of my own. Tiny white plumes that floated with the slightest current of my breath. Dead in the cupped palm of my hand.

  I touched my lips. “I’d forgotten about that part.” All at once I recalled the sickening feeling. “Oh, I wish I’d never remembered.”

  His grin was all male, half-amused that it could still upset me, half-regretful he’d brought it up. “If it cheers you, that was the day Henry finally accepted you. Before, he’d sometimes follow me about the manor, asking if I’d spent the day playing poppet with the wittle girl again.”

  I felt a pang. That sounded like Henry.

  “It was the day Jameson learned about you as well.”

  This piqued my interest. “How?”

  “When we went home, Henry kept taunting Jeremiah about running away from a girl. Jameson caught wind and made Henry give him a full account.” Edward chuckled. “I saw Jameson’s eyes twinkle with interest when Henry described you. Henry also told him you were the reason I was sneaking out constantly.”

  “Is that when he starting playing warden?”

  Edward rubbed his chin. “No, he was highly curious, now that I recall. He even went to that dance the Gardiners held and asked Hannah to point you out. You remember that day; it was the one where my tutor made me rework my translations. Jameson tramped home on foot after you left the dance. He said I’d be a knave if I didn’t find you and take you back there.”

  This was all news to me. “So when did he start trying to prevent our relationship? And why?”

  Edward’s forehead creased. “You know, that’s a good question, but the sun is not standing still in the sky. We can either go hunt him out and demand an answer, go to Hyde Park, or find this orphanage. Which one, Juls?”

  I glanced toward Hyde Park, suddenly no longer caring to see the place where gentlemen showed off their carriages and the elite promenaded in numbers. I’d attended enough parties to have had my fill. Jameson certainly intrigued me, but it would be easy to find an opportunity to speak with him. But the orphanage—this was likely my only chance to see how it had changed. For I felt certain once my father learned Edward had taken me out of London House, he’d grow irate. For all I knew, James was already on his way.

  “I want to see the orphanage,” I said.

 
; Approval only sweetened Edward’s good looks. “That’s my girl. That was my vote too! I am intrigued to see the lass who stirred such a degree of passion in you. Who knows, perhaps there’s a reason why.”

  I gasped and gripped his arm, wondering if he meant what I hoped.

  “No,” he said, the soles of his feet tapping against the walk, “that’s not a promise or even an intent. But as Jameson would say, I am highly curious.”

  I tightened my grip on Edward’s sleeve as we neared the orphanage. London on foot was a different city—one that was wilder than anything I could have imagined. Hawkers and costermongers had called to us and followed us on every street and to the mouth of every alleyway. The strong odors of sewage, horse muck, and rotting meat tossed aside from butcher shops combined with the sour scent rising from pools of human urine. I saw how clean my father’s street was, in that the cobblestones were even visible. In this part, one could only catch a glimpse of brown stone between the layers of mire.

  The din was never-ending. I desired to cover my ears at times, so severe was the constant noise, only I feared losing Edward too much. Dairymaids yodelled, merchants banged on pots to draw attention to their wares, bells rang, carriages clattered, hooves drummed, splashing up muck as they passed. Children beat drums, played penny flutes. Everywhere there was the neighing of horses, the bleating of goats, the sad lowing of cattle.

  People jostled me without even realizing it. Having spent years shying from unforeseeable blows, my mother and I were wont to jump at the slightest brush of an arm or nudge of an elbow. And though I no longer visibly started at every touch, I registered each touch distinctly—people brushing my dress, knocking my arm, skimming too near. Children outright used me to steady themselves, making me wonder whether anything of value would have by now been picked from my pockets.

  By the time we reached the gates pockmarked with rust, I felt bedraggled and spent. Edward clanged the bell, drawing stares from nearby people. The stench of ordure and rot assailed me from waste bins set near the gate. I covered my mouth and nose, but Edward caught my hand in a quick movement. “No. You’ll only make them self-conscious.”