Born of Persuasion (15 page)

I knew eventually I’d have to wear the new gowns. The first half of the task was over. The money had been spent. I had disobeyed my guardian. I had given myself into her ladyship’s care. Now, I only needed to complete the transition, and that harrowed me, for I had no idea what she planned. Thankfully the matter came to a head quickly. It started with footsteps clattering down the flagstone hall during our tea hour.

Our fare was simple that day, tea and scones, as the
housekeeper was busy scraping the grates and inspecting the chimneys in preparation for the winter months. It was with great surprise, therefore, that the door flung open and Hannah burst in, wisps of hair stuck to her sooty face. “Mr. Greenham is dismounting in the stable yard!”

Elizabeth dropped her scone and stared in disbelief.

“Girls! Oh, oh!” Mrs. Windham beat the air with her hands. “Julia, why oh why aren’t you wearing at least one of your new dresses, the pretty one with bouffant sleeves. Oh, for heaven’s sake, where’s your common sense? Smile. He’s going to propose and you look as grave and as ugly as a mustard pot.”

Heart pounding, I allowed Mrs. Windham to pull me to my feet. Panic clutched at my chest, cutting off my breath. I never imagined Mr. Greenham would condescend to call on Am Meer.

I looked at Elizabeth, but she, too, appeared at a loss.

“Hurry! To the drawing room.” Mrs. Windham seized my arm. The housekeeper squeezed tightly against the wall to prevent the soot on her clothing from touching us. Mrs. Windham kept a firm pace and we nearly tumbled into the chamber.

“There, Elizabeth. Sit there, by the chimney nook.” Mrs. Windham scurried to her sewing basket. “No, Julia, the fireside chair. Leave him the davenport. He shall have an excellent view of you sitting in the sun. Not sewing—a book, a book. Pretend you are reading to us. The red one. ’Tis love sonnets.”

I seized the volume and dropped to my seat. My fingers shook so much they scarcely managed to open the pages. Now that the deed was upon me, I felt ready to burst into tears. It was sheer madness. What if Lady Foxmore planned to match me with Mr. Greenham? What if he expected favors?

Mrs. Windham flung white material at Elizabeth and pulled out my fancy embroidery work for herself. Her chest heaving, she motioned me to read. With a choking voice, I faltered through a few lines. Surely, I reasoned, Mr. Greenham—melancholy as he was—wouldn’t make that sort of demand upon
me. Hadn’t he promised that day at tea, nothing of that sort would be required of me? Besides, he knew I was looking for a husband, not a private arrangement! A lump swelled in my throat, growing so thick I paused.

“Read,” Mrs. Windham hissed. She possessed neither needle nor thread but made the motions, pretending to sew.

I obeyed and stammered through another half a verse.

The door opened and the housekeeper entered. Though her face was streaked with soot and perspiration, she dipped with seemliness. “Mr. Greenham, ma’am.”

Mrs. Windham looked up. “Ah, do show him in, Hannah.”

The wood-beamed ceiling was so low, Mr. Greenham was obliged to remained stooped.

Mrs. Windham rose and spread her arms. “Mr. Greenham! What a welcome surprise. How devilish to give no hint you planned to call.”

“Madam.” He bowed. His face was stone, lacking his usual brooding. Some unyielding determination braced him.

Elizabeth noted it too, for she raised her eyebrows at me, but I couldn’t read the strange twist.

“Please, sit.” Mrs. Windham gestured to the davenport. “I am certain Julia will not mind entertaining you alone a moment. Come, Elizabeth, we shall find Hannah and instruct her to bring tea.”

A frown stretched over Elizabeth’s brow as I silently pleaded with her not to leave.

“I fear I cannot, Mama.” She lifted her right foot. “My foot is numbed from sitting too long.”

“You will do as I bid!”

“But I cannot.” Elizabeth pointed anew to her foot and made her voice sound near tears. “I tell you, I cannot. I’ll fall if I try to walk.”

Her face turning purple, Mrs. Windham screwed her mouth shut, but I suspected she understood Elizabeth’s resolve not to
budge. “Of
all
the selfish things for your foot to do! I expect you to join me the minute it awakens.”

She banged the door shut.

If Mr. Greenham found the exchange strange, he gave no hint but took a seat, making him appear more ill-suited to the room than Gulliver amongst the Lilliputians. His long legs, though bent, extended over the footstool and came to rest on the center of the mottled rug. His melton waistcoat and dark woollen suit stood out amongst the white doilies and mantel scarf. He clutched his whip and hat.

I sat stiff, too dry-mouthed to speak. Elizabeth fared no better. After a great length of time, made longer by our awkwardness, Mrs. Windham returned, glowering at Elizabeth. Harry followed with a tray of tea and the pear bread.

Mrs. Windham settled into her chair as Harry left the room, motioning for Elizabeth to distribute tea. “Now look over my table, Mr. Greenham. If you can think of but one morsel that would make it more complete, Elizabeth and I
both
shall walk to the village to fetch it if necessary.” With a knowing smile, she leaned forward. “Julia, I am certain, can entertain you well enough
alone
. Now look carefully. You have only to name an item.”

For half a moment, I feared I might faint. I gripped the chair arm, refusing to believe this was happening.

Mr. Greenham’s eyes flickered in my direction, and then to my relief, he gave Mrs. Windham a look of disgust before taking a long draft of tea.

“I have come,” he finally said, “as a favor to Lady Foxmore. This morning I received correspondence from Mr. Macy. He desires us at Eastbourne. Her ladyship wants Miss Elliston as her companion. Will you give her leave?”

I felt color drain from my face as I envisioned myself removed from Am Meer’s safety.

Mrs. Windham fumbled her teacup. “Only Julia!” Then she
gave a wooden smile. “Perhaps Lady Foxmore is unaware, but Julia is in my care. I fear I cannot . . . Though perhaps if I went myself to keep an eye on her . . .” Mrs. Windham tilted her head, looking pointedly at her tea. “A-and of course, I’d need to bring Elizabeth.”

Mr. Greenham tapped his long fingers on his teacup, giving her one of his rare second glances. “It could be arranged,” he said slowly. “Only let us make sure we clearly understand one another. Lady Foxmore alone shall have full charge of Miss Elliston.”

Mrs. Windham soured, whether because she finally realized the precariousness of my situation or because she disliked the idea of Lady Foxmore boosting my interests over Elizabeth’s, I couldn’t tell. She wet her lips. “I fear her guardian is particular. I am not certain—”

“Never mind then.” Mr. Greenham made movement to rise. “Forgive me for not staying longer, but my time is stretched.”

“What I mean—” Mrs. Windham placed her hand on his arm—“is that I’m certain her guardian would have no objections to Lady Foxmore, providing I was on hand . . . to . . . to consult, if her ladyship had questions.”

“But not to interfere with her ladyship’s methods, correct?”

For once, Mrs. Windham was stunned into silence, giving only a small nod of agreement.

He stared at her the way a man might look upon his overdrawn bankbook, then turned to me. The intensity in his eyes startled me. “Do you understand and agree, Miss Elliston?”

When I was twelve, Mama and I used to pass an enclosed bull on our way to the market. The way he’d lower his head, eyeing us, pawing the ground, used to send tingles up through my spine, though Mama hushed me if I commented upon it.

Something about Mr. Greenham’s bearing, the strain of his jaw, the whiteness of his knuckles, made me feel that the wrong answer would be the equivalent of setting that bull free.

I nodded.

A look of embarrassment crossed his face before he looked at the floor. “And your new wardrobe is ready? Yes?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Windham recovered. “And I assure you, it is the most elegant—”

“Good. We leave at cockcrow tomorrow, wind and weather permitting.”

“Tomorrow?” Mrs. Windham fanned herself with her hand. “But that’s scarcely enough time to ready our dresses and set our affairs in order. Can we not leave the day after?”

Instead of answering, he set his remaining tea aside and gathered his belongings.

He left so abruptly we’d scarcely found our feet before he reached the door. Mrs. Windham managed to raise a handkerchief. “Well, ah . . . adieu.”

The door clapped shut.

No one spoke or moved until the sound of hooves filled the stable yard; then Mrs. Windham jolted back to life. “Hannah!” she screamed, rushing into the hall. “Oh, what do you think! Lady Foxmore wishes to introduce Elizabeth! We must pack.”

I set my tea aside and rested my forehead in the palms of my hands. Gratitude welled that thus far nothing had been required of me. When I looked up, I found Elizabeth, pale as a ghost, watching.

“What did he mean?” she asked. “I thought him about to tear down the house with his bare hands. What did you just agree to?”

Rather than admit I was uncertain, I shrugged. “You worry too much.”

She clamped her mouth shut, and I saw the steely glint of dissatisfaction in her eye.

That afternoon I wrote my guardian, in order to feign innocence if he learned about the trip. Penning the note, however, proved harder than anticipated as he’d strictly forbidden me to travel.

While I bit the edge of an ebony pen, Nancy lined my trunks, her face red from exertion. Her lips moved as she counted and recounted my new dresses. Down the hall, Mrs. Windham loudly bemoaned the fact that Elizabeth had no worthy gowns and there wasn’t time to commission new ones, and for heaven’s sake go ask to borrow mine, as I was supposed to be in mourning regardless. Elizabeth, it appeared, was flatly refusing to.

I dipped the nib in ink, finally deciding to state that I obediently remained in the safekeeping of Mrs. Windham while she took a brief excursion to visit a friend.

Ink smudged the edges as I pressed blotting paper over the note, then closed it. I tapped the folded page against my knuckles. If I were lucky, my solicitor would only glance at the letter and not bother to forward it.

“By gum,” Nancy said, stretching the kinks from her back, “I can’t see how thou’ll do dressing yourself. Does thou want instructions for these here gowns?”

“Instructions?”

“Aye, which dresses go with which accessories and suchlike.”

“Am I to be forever plagued with you?” I suppressed a smile and pasted a wafer over my letter. The sly vixen would find a way to join us. “I’ll make the request for you to join us.”

“Maybe I’ll ga.” She ran the back of her hand over her brow. “If thou asks me.”

I looked over the desk, amazed at her brashness. “It makes little difference to me whether you go or stay. If I must, I’ll borrow Elizabeth’s maid.”

She huffed and resumed packing. “Aye, and it would be a shame for thee. Thou’ll have th’ same style of hair as Miss Lizbeth th’ entire trip.”

I tucked the letter under my arm and stood. It was true. Elizabeth’s style of hair rarely changed, and it wasn’t a particularly flattering style on me either. Unwilling to show Nancy she’d won, I flounced from the room, but after dropping my post in
the mail basket by the door, I tapped on Mrs. Windham’s chamber door and begged until she granted me use of Nancy.

I did not know it then, but that day marked the last carefree day I ever spent at Am Meer.

“HURRY, MISS.”

Nancy urged me from dreams cushioned by warm comforters. I groaned, opening my eyes. Once again, during the wee hours, Lady Foxmore’s footman hammered on our door to deliver a note, this time demanding we travel in her ladyship’s carriage.

Nancy shook me. “Make haste. ’Tis barely enough time to dress thee.”

I rubbed my hand over bleary eyes. The clock indicated there wasn’t time for breakfast or to have my hair fashioned in more than a chignon. I scrambled from the toasty covers and shivered.

“Where’s the fire?” I demanded.