Price of Privilege

by Jessica Dotta

  “No.” Isaac’s laugh was mild. “I don’t think he’s quite ready to become acquainted with us yet.”

  I swallowed, realizing it was Lady Dalry making me nervous. Knowing how close Isaac was to his mother frightened me. Surely she was angry that I’d broken Isaac’s heart. And surely Evelyn hadn’t been thrilled to learn Isaac desired a private tea with his former fiancée. It was no wonder only Kate sounded boisterous. Surely Lady Dalry and Evelyn were sitting ramrod straight, eyeing their disapproval of Isaac’s scheme to each other.

  I looked toward the stairs, tempted to retreat. Before I could, the door swung open.

  “She’s here!” Kate screamed over her shoulder, flinging herself into my arms. “I thought you’d never arrive!”

  Behind her, Isaac gave me a slight smile and nodded. Lady Dalry also smiled as she carefully removed her bonnet, using two hands. Next to her, Evelyn was still tugging off her gloves.

  I stared, frozen.

  “Well, don’t just stand here,” Kate ordered, then took my hand and tugged me inside. “Come on!”

  “Kate, she needs to breathe.” Lady Dalry’s rebuke was mild as she placed her bonnet on the table and glided toward us. With cool fingers she lifted my chin. “How glad I am to see you again. You look lovely as always, but I think marriage suits you even better.”

  I swallowed as tears rose. We both knew I deserved no such acceptance from her.

  “Oh, child.” Her tone was one of loving-kindness as her eyes softened. “There’s no need to feel nervous. Once a Dalry, always a Dalry, you know. And I must say, you do our small family proud.”

  Behind her, Isaac watched us with a quiet joy. His mouth curved slightly as he poured himself a cup of tea, then leaned against the back of the sofa. From there, my gaze swung to Evelyn, who smiled at me so hard, her cheeks were dimpled.

  I had no words, only mild panic, for I simply could not understand them. There were no words in my emotional vocabulary to help translate this family. Gathering a fistful of my skirt, I contemplated turning and exiting. Their acceptance felt too overwhelming.

  Thankfully Jameson entered, rolling a cart of delicacies.

  Without expression his eyes quickly took in the chamber’s occupants. They narrowed briefly in confusion as they touched on me, but then, with a look, he assured me I wasn’t alone.

  I found I could breathe again.

  As he transferred the various confections to the table, Evelyn approached.

  Though she was still birdlike and timid, there was something firmer about her footfall. “I know what you’re thinking,” she whispered, sliding her arm in mine. “You don’t remember becoming a Dalry. It’s what I thought, at any rate, after Ben disappeared. I thought them being polite. But I can attest, they’re sincere.”

  I felt my breath quicken, though I willed myself to appear collected. But my mind screamed questions. How could they not be angry? Why had Isaac engaged himself to her? Was it only because she was family? Most panicking of all was that they treated me as if I were one of them.

  “Isaac,” Evelyn called softly.

  He was attuned to her, for he immediately set his cup aside. But it was different from the way we’d been linked. For the first time I realized that they’d known each other as children. There was no awkwardness; they seemed capable of reading each other’s mild expressions.

  “Here,” Isaac said softly, offering me his arm. “Come sit with Mother.”

  Lady Dalry made room on the settee for me by removing Kate’s shawl and bonnet. I felt as though I were walking over a slippery beam as I crossed the chamber on Isaac’s arm.

  “I scarcely slept last night when Isaac sent a note inviting us to tea.” Kate perched on the arm of the settee as I sat. “We’ve all been so worried about you, what with your father’s moodiness.”

  “I’ve always wanted to have tea in a window seat,” Evelyn said to her before anyone could speak. “What say you? Shall we take our own plate of goodies and spy back on everyone in the street? How fun it shall be. If we’re careful, they’ll have no idea they’re being observed.”

  Kate rose on tiptoes, oblivious to the fact she’d just been had. “Oh yes, let’s! We can make a game of counting ostrich feathers. The passersby on this street have tons of them.”

  “Double points for red ones?” Evelyn suggested.

  “Yes, but you won’t find any that color this time of year.” Kate started to select a plateful of delicacies while Evelyn poured their cups. “Guess what, Julia? Evelyn asked me to be a bridesmaid. Mama says I might have a new dress and everything.”

  I gave a weak smile, knowing I ought to say something to her. But there were no words. This entire gathering was too confusing. What sort of engagement party consisted of the bride-to-be having a private tête-à-tête with a bridesmaid in the window, while the groom and his mother visited with the past fiancée?

  Then my mind cast back to the day Colonel Greenley held out the note with the request that I deliver it to Isaac. It occurred to me that perhaps, in the same way Edward and I had our own brand of honor, this family had its own brand of love.

  Before I could take the thought further, Isaac placed dishes of strawberry consommé before Lady Dalry and me. A pink rose floated atop the syrupy texture of each bowl. Then he returned with his own and took the seat nearest me. I wrapped my hands around my teacup and stared into it.

  If my hypothesis were true, Isaac meant it when he’d said, “I will protect her as though she were my own sister, given you from my own household.” I peeked at Isaac as he waited to see what his mother thought of the consommé.

  I pressed my lips together. Isaac might live with my father, but this was true family, and against belief he still hoped to share it with me.

  I observed Lady Dalry as she smiled and nodded approval of the dish, and then I considered Evelyn’s chumminess as she kept Kate occupied. Kate’s hair glinted red in the sunlight as she swung her feet against the wooden frame.

  My throat constricted as I realized that gathered in this chamber were those whom Isaac held dearest to his heart.

  I hadn’t realized the caliber of Isaac’s soul until that moment. His love for me had been real, and love such as this didn’t corrode and dissolve with disappointment. He’d recast it and smithed something different. I met his gaze and found him unmasked.

  Here sat my brother and friend. The one I thought I had lost forever. The one I never deserved.

  Tears refused to stop forming, so I turned my head.

  Instantly I felt Isaac’s hand on my shoulder as Lady Dalry moved closer and pulled me against her. This, too, was painful, for I realized how much I missed Mama. How badly I wanted to discuss with her all the awful things that kept happening to me. How I wished I could have laid my head on her lap, as I used to do. In that moment, I sensed how much Isaac still wished to be an instrument of healing in my life, and that this was his formal invitation to help mend the damage. That he was good and trustworthy, and that despite the heartache and pain of life, he knew how to forge new paths. He finally communicated what he’d wanted to say since I’d reentered London House.

  That all was well between us, if I’d have it so.

  “How was the tea?” Edward asked as I entered his bedchamber. His expression was one of concentration as he kept his gaze fastened on the page. His tone communicated he highly doubted I’d enjoyed myself.

  I crossed my arms, unable to stop the flow of tears.

  When I didn’t answer, he finally looked up and snapped his book shut. “What on earth?”

  Before he could rise from the bed, I climbed up onto the high bed frame and started to crawl over to him. My hands and knees dented the mattress as I hastened toward him. Words remained lodged in my throat. Not that I would have released them had I been able.

  The Dalrys had set free a wild and painful emotion—a branding iron in my soul.

  Thankfully Edward accepted me, though his body remained taut. He glared toward the door as if
ready to march downstairs and deck Isaac. “Juls, please talk to me.”

  I nodded to show him I would, but still only tears came.

  “What happened?” Edward did his best to hold back his anger, though it bled through his voice.

  “Oh, I can tell you what happened.” Jameson’s voice carried into the chamber. His tone was filled with delight. “The Dalry clan inflicted love and healing on her. Only they lacked the knowledge that she’s not ready to accept it unless it’s greatly diluted. Without intending to, they administered more than she could handle.”

  “What?” Edward asked, sounding thoroughly confused.

  Jameson chuckled and bent into view. “Are you all right, my queen?”

  I turned my head, not wanting to ever see him again. It was awful enough I’d cried before Lady Dalry and Isaac, but knowing there were more witnesses was much worse. It is one thing to pine for things to be better but quite another to experience how it would feel and how it would look. They’d meant to show me love. But in truth, they weren’t my family. It wasn’t their family I longed for but my own. I had a father. And today I’d tasted how love and acceptance could feel. Thus, unknowingly, they’d only deepened the ache.

  “If you’ll take my advice,” Jameson said to Edward in a tone that lacked all playfulness, “you’ll keep your wife united with the Dalrys. She needs them. She needs a larger family than just you, Edward, and they are the perfect ones for her.”

  Here I finally sat straight and wiped my eyes. “I don’t think I can endure another meeting with them.”

  “That’s your faerie nature talking, but our goal is to make you human, remember?”

  “Well, none of it matters anyway,” Edward interrupted us. “I’ve reached an agreement with Lord Pierson this morning. I’ve accepted his offer. If it’s still all right with you, Juls, within a fortnight we’ll be aboard a ship on our way to South Africa to oversee the emerald mines.”

  His statement was so shocking that I felt my mouth gape.

  “Heed my voice, boy,” Jameson said, his brow furrowed. “It would be a grave mistake to drag your wife to South Africa. I tell you, she needs to be here. In some ways she’s tougher than whitleather, but—forgive me for saying so, Mrs. Auburn—in other ways she’s more fragile than you realize, and there’s only so much a soul can endure. She needs less change, not more! If you take her to an entirely different country and setting, you have no idea what it might unleash.”

  I gripped Edward’s sleeves, shaking my head. Jameson couldn’t have been more wrong. It made perfect sense to leave.

  This was what needed to happen! Surely this was God’s hand! We’d escape Macy, Forrester, and my father all in one move. This was the life I was meant to live—freedom from fear of Macy and the daily pain of being ignored by my father. Though I felt a slight twinge at the idea of leaving behind the Dalrys, I could see how perfectly this would all work out. Time would soften Edward’s anger, enabling him to see Isaac more clearly. Besides, once a Dalry, always a Dalry. By walking away and coming back, it would enable me to bring Edward into their family too. It was the first time in a long time I saw hope at the end of this journey.

  “Africa?” I said, unable to contain the rising laugh. “We’re going to see Africa? Truly?”

  “No, you’re not,” Jameson said.

  Edward grinned. “We will if you’re willing.”

  “Oh, I’m willing.”

  “Can neither of you hear me?” Jameson asked. “Have you both gone deaf, or am I suddenly mute? Mrs. Auburn, you’re not using your magic on me, are you?”

  I wiped my tears and faced him. “You’ll come with us, yes?”

  He opened his mouth as if to protest, then threw his hands in the air. Shaking his head, he stalked from the chamber.

  “He’ll come,” Edward promised. “Trust me, I can’t imagine anyone would choose life with your father over life with us.”

  FOR A TIME, we each had a singular, myopic focus. My father fixated on the incident tearing apart his party, which later became known as the Bedchamber Crisis; Isaac on his upcoming nuptials; Edward on learning the ins and outs of the mines; and me on trying to place all my hope in moving to South Africa.

  Thus we were caught up in our daily affairs like dogs running at full speed, when reality finally pulled hard on our leashes, catching us by surprise.

  Other than the fact that magistrates quietly gathered outside the steps of London House, nothing marked that day as different. Edward and I had joined breakfast, which, as always, was strained. Afterwards, my father and Isaac separated into their individual worlds.

  That particular morning, Edward had a stack of business correspondences he needed to respond to as Lord Pierson’s new manager. To our amusement, my father had purchased sealing wax scented with bergamot.

  “They’re going to think I’m a milksop,” Edward said as the gold wax sizzled in its spoon. “Sending them introductions with a perfumed seal.”

  “Well—” I shrugged one shoulder as I studied the map of Cape Town—“even your former parish knew you were a secret fop.”

  His eyes sharpened with humor. “Just wait until I finish with these business correspondences.”

  I lifted mocking eyebrows. “Oh, how frighteningly grown-up sounding!”

  “Well, you want out of here, don’t you?”

  I touched the Buffalo River on the map, where a settlement had been added with an ink pen. “The sooner the better.”

  Edward poured the wax over five letters and sealed them with the signet my father had purchased for him. “Then allow me to work.”

  As someone yanked hard on the bell, releasing discordant shrieks through London House, I lifted the map of the country and studied the layout of the mines, marvelling that a month hence I’d step foot on another continent.

  Neither of us reacted, even when the sharp cry of the bell rang again, announcing the caller’s impatience.

  A single set of footsteps ran down the hall. Then several feet pounded.

  Edward and I gave each other a questioning look.

  All at once, my father’s voice roared, “How dare you enter my home! Have you any idea who I am? You will not search—”

  The sound of a tussle was unmistakable as we both stood. Men grunted and the irregular slap of boots came rushing from the hall. Edward neared me as a single set of footsteps approached our door.

  Isaac swung it open and entered with an expression that chilled my blood. He signalled for us to soundlessly follow him. Edward didn’t hesitate. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me from the chair. My skirts swished about my legs as we tumbled through the chamber.

  London House was a maze, and Isaac knew it well. He navigated us through a series of rooms. In the dining room, he removed a portrait of Lady Josephine and opened a safe. He pulled out a small satchel, which he handed to Edward.

  “Is it Macy?” I begged in a whisper.

  He placed a finger over his mouth, then directed us to follow him again. He pulled open the nearest door and peered about an empty room.

  Catching Edward’s eye, he pointed to the window, advising us to keep from view as we crossed this chamber. Edward nodded.

  Instead of exiting the chamber as I expected, Isaac went to the hearth, where he reached behind another portrait. This time, instead of a safe, the panelling next to the fireplace swung open to reveal a dusty and cobwebbed passage.

  Behind us, the sound of voices and footsteps were spreading.

  Edward dove into the darkness, pulling me after him. I turned to give Isaac one last look of bewilderment and saw the door open behind him and a man enter.

  “Here! They’re here!” The man’s cheeks puffed out as he sounded a police whistle. With a single shove, he knocked Isaac aside, then leapt toward me. He grabbed my ankles, sending me to the ground with a hard jolt. My chin hit the stone floor as whistles detonated all over London House.

  Pain radiated through my face and knee as I tried to kick him off and caught s
ight of his embroidered collar. With a groan I realized these weren’t Macy’s thugs but Peel’s bobbies.

  Without thought, I reached out and grabbed Edward’s calves as he turned back to fight. He tumbled and fell on top of me, winding me for a second but thankfully keeping him from punching anyone.

  The constable wasted no time, pinning and securing Edward’s hands behind his back. “No one is allowed to leave the premises,” he ordered. “The three of you are to be questioned.” His gaze swung on me as I pushed up against the floor. “Mrs. Chance Macy?”

  Knowing better than to admit it, I only stared. A drop of blood spattered and blossomed over the concrete below me. I touched my lip and found it had been cut. Dust coated my throat, so I gave a cough.

  The constable swore, then withdrew a handkerchief. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. You must tell him.” Terror filled his voice. “Please.”

  Intending to use his fear to get us released, I said, “He’s killed for far less. Unless you release us, I can promise you he’ll hear all about this.” I held out my bloodied finger. “We both know what he’ll do.”

  “Julia!” Edward rebuked as he struggled beneath the man pushing him down.

  “Can we take that as a confession of her identity?” a voice said from somewhere inside the chamber. A man appeared and signalled for someone to pull me up. A hand grasped my upper arm and yanked me to my feet.

  “I heard no such confession,” Isaac said in his disinterested, polite tone. “Though—” his eyes bored into mine—“I wouldn’t call that speech ladylike. And we are nothing if we are not ladylike.”

  Heat carried through my face as Edward was roughly pulled to his feet.

  “Mrs. Chance Macy?” an authoritative, baritone voice queried from the doorway.

  I glanced in that direction, then realized even responding to that name might implicate me.

  A man in his early fifties gripped a blackthorn walking stick. He surveyed the scene with his shoulders wide apart. He was about the height of Napoleon and equally imposing. His gaze narrowed on my mouth. “Why is my client’s lip bleeding?”