Born of Persuasion (48 page)

“How’s that?” Henry asked.

I briefly sketched the circumstances of Mama’s death and how Sarah and I hid what we thought was her suicide. I told them how Mr. Macy had pointed out the inconsistencies, confirming the idea that she had been murdered, but also why I’d publicly denied the possibility.

“Well, that’s one mystery explained, at any rate.” Henry leaned back in his chair. “And for what it’s worth, I’d have done similar, Julia. You’re right; by now all evidence would be gone and a decent-sounding chap would be in prison, while the murderer strolls about free.”

Mr. Addams gave a nervous laugh, holding up his hands. “Whoa-ho. We don’t even know that there’s been a murder for certain, and here we’ve already convicted the man and kidnapped his wife. Can we slow down a bit, please?”

“He’s a murderer,” Edward said. “I know it in my bone of bones.”

“Well, hurrah for you, but the law demands a little more than your hunch.”

“What I want to know,” Henry said, “is why would anyone kill Mrs. Elliston? I mean, she hardly ever spoke, and from what I gather, she hardly ever left the house. Why kill her?”

I flinched, hearing his uncensored assessment of Mama.

“Because she got in the way,” was Edward’s testy reply. “Greenham said so.”

“Yes, but what does that mean?”

“Well, hold up,” Mr. Addams said, pointing up a finger. “Perhaps in an attempt to injure Lord Pierson, Macy planned to wed Julia, but then her mother caught scent of it and forbade it. Thus, ‘she got in the way.’”

I rubbed my forehead, disliking the cold pit expanding in my stomach. “No. That doesn’t fit. Mama gave her permission for our union. I saw the letter myself. There was no doubt she wrote it.”

“So what do we know, then? Anything?” Henry asked, reining in the conversation. “Any other theories as to why he would murder Julia’s mother?”

Silence met him.

I dully sat back in my chair, feeling my throat tighten. Edward drew me closer to him and buried his nose in my hair.

“All righty, then.” Henry folded his fingers together and placed them on the table. “If we can’t answer the ‘why’ of the matter, let’s discuss our options.” When no one spoke, he held up his index finger. “Option one, and it has my vote: Edward elopes with Julia and they assume new identities.”

“I’ll not cozen the law to steal another man’s wife,” Edward warned.

“Oh, that’s rich, now that you’ve already taken her.”

“I’ll not add to my crime by lying and pretending I have any right to wed her. It’s dishonorable.” Edward’s voice was cold as iron. “What is our next option?”

Outdoors, the bleating of sheep carried in the wind. I turned a weary gaze toward the window.

Mr. Addams held up two fingers. “Seek legal help. See if there’s some ambiguity, some odd phrase in the law you can take advantage of.”

Edward gave a curt shake of his head, showing his doubt. “Maybe.”

“Three,” Henry said. “We seek Lord Pierson’s help.”

Edward stood and strode to the far end of the chamber, as if the suggestion were more than he could bear. “No. You haven’t met the man, Henry. That door is closed.”

“Well—” Henry threw his hands up—“there you have it. I’m out of ideas.”

Mr. Addams smiled. “Four. Maybe we’ll get lucky. Perhaps this Mr. Macy will take no further pains. And she can pretend it never happened and move on with her life.” He twisted to face me. “If he doesn’t register your marriage in the parish records
and enough time passes, you could even remarry. Just don’t tell the vicar.”

Edward half turned and glowered over his shoulder.

“It’s growing dark.” Henry glanced toward the window. “And I don’t fancy spending an extra day here, just waiting. You two need to make a decision.” He turned toward me. “Julia?”

Edward frowned as I was singled out. Henry’s motives were obvious. Of the two of us, I was the more likely to elect the plan Henry favored, saddling Edward with the additional burden of disappointing me if he disagreed.

“I vote Scotland.” I frowned at the irony.

“Ed?”

Edward turned back to the window and stared hard into the night.

“The law,” he said after a long silence. “I want Churchill’s opinion.”

I COUNT THE NEXT TWO DAYS as amongst the most precious of my life. That first night, Edward and I talked into the wee hours. Once Henry and Mr. Addams retired, all encumbrances were gone and we spoke freely, rediscovering each other’s traits and joys.

Alone with Edward, I unburdened myself of every detail about Mama’s death. I told of our certainty that it was self-inflicted, and how the apothecary and I had determined that there was no other option but to conceal it. I explained again how Mr. Macy’s questions had caused me to revisit the scene, this time drawing a different conclusion. And I begged Edward’s forgiveness for failing to confirm Mr. Greenham’s claim. Then, as dawn began to lighten the sky, Edward told me about his decision to become a vicar.

That part was difficult. During his first year at university, he’d fallen in with chums who were dedicated to prayer and revival. It lit a fire in Edward, who had always believed in Christ but had never made the connection that a person could be a
full-fledged disciple and not just someone who observed the rites of the church. While at home, he found a mentor, the man whom he wanted to consult for legal advice in regards to me. It was Churchill who first convinced Edward he had to be willing to risk losing me to truly be a follower of Jesus. He had taught Edward that one must be willing to forsake all—mother, father, even future wife.

At first, anger swelled in me at Edward’s willingness to forsake me in his pursuit of God. The thought incensed me. He had held my hands while he spoke about it, and I longed to twist free and refuse to ever speak with him again.

Yet I held my peace for two reasons. First, Sarah was wont to tell me that my performance could shame a banshee when I was aroused; therefore I refused to speak until I regained a measure of control. Second, I had no right to speak. I had not forsaken Edward, but I’d actually married another man. Furthermore, I knew my reasons for doing so were nowhere near as noble as Edward’s. He wanted to change the world at cost to himself, whereas I only wanted to feel safe, regardless of anyone else.

So I listened as Edward shared his faith. To my surprise, despite his belief that I might never return, he had faithfully read my father’s entire collection, studied it, and was ready to present me with counterthoughts. Arguments that were so natural and unadorned, I feared their simplicity.

Somewhere during that long night, I allowed myself to tentatively consider Edward’s faith. Most attractive of all was the mind-set under which Edward operated—that he’d never be left or forsaken by God. It brought to mind my first night in Eastbourne, when I wondered if anything was constant in this world.

Yet so much had changed in my life in the last forty-eight hours that the idea I might lose yet another part of my identity was too overwhelming to consider. I already felt stretched to the point of breaking. Thankfully Edward was not like others
I’d encountered. He did not press his suit. He did not watch me with eyes full of hope. Instead, he encouraged me to go to bed and sleep.

The next day was Sunday. While we waited to have the carriage fixed, Edward did not pressure me to attend church. Instead, he tiptoed out of the cottage on his own, leaving me a note in case I woke.

That afternoon, Henry and Mr. Addams pored over the Addamses’ scanty library, hoping to find something of help to me. Edward and I sat before the fire with a deck of cards, playing scabby queen.

I know now he’d purposefully chosen a game that required little thought. In those quiet, empty hours, I recognized my foolishness at believing I loved Mr. Macy. In just two days on the road with Edward, I’d once again gained sight of the girl I’d been, the girl I thought I’d forever lost.

Thus when we arrived at the smithy’s yard the following morning, I was unprepared. As we emerged from the carriage, the young apprentice’s eyes widened at the sight of my gown, but not with respect for my station. Rather, it bordered on disbelief.

While Henry pointed out the bent wheel, the apprentice’s gaze kept shifting to Edward’s collar.

“You a vicar?” he asked when Henry stopped speaking.

“I am.”

The apprentice’s eyes shifted to Mr. Addams. “These friends of yours, Dev?”

Mr. Addams gave a curt nod. “Yes. Why?”

Wiping his hands with a rag, the apprentice’s eyes shifted back to me.

“Something wrong, Abe?” Mr. Addams asked.

The apprentice eyed me, his one hand flexing, as if making an urgent decision. “Get her back in the carriage,” he whispered. “Get her and the vicar back inside it. Then go find a newspaper. You’ll see what I mean.”

“I’m sorry,” Henry said, “but do what—and why?”

The apprentice approached Mr. Addams and bent his head, lowering his voice. “It’s funny, is all. Last night I kept waking up in a cold sweat, dreaming ’bout Burns and that hunting pup. Remember that? Dream after dream, one after ’nother, until finally, after midnight, I figured it were an omen.” He gave Edward a quick apologetic nod. “Not that I actually believe in that sort of stuff. But then looking at the paper this morning—it struck me summat was off, you know, ’bout that reward. And now, here these two are.”

“Reward?” Mr. Addams asked.

The apprentice retreated to a small, dark office, then emerged with a newspaper that fluttered in the wind. “Take it.”

“Oh, of all the absurdity,” Mr. Addams said.

Edward, however, took the paper from the apprentice and searched his face. “Thank you.”

The man flushed, doubtless pleased and embarrassed to have an obvious member of the gentry addressing him so frankly.

The wind refused to allow Henry to open the newspaper. It blew tightly against his fists, refusing to stay open. In desperation, we climbed back into the carriage to have a look.

News of my marriage had already reached the gossip columns. Only the story was twisted. It said I had seduced Mr. Macy in order to secure my position in society. It was reported that I was illegitimate and had blackmailed my father into giving me funds to run away with my lover, a vicar. Mr. Macy had also placed an advertisement, begging for my return. He described my dress in detail, as well as a general account of my looks. Of course, later, he published several of these pleas and I learned that all across England, women gathered weekly in parties, in order to read his heart-wrenching notices and then weep together.

But most stunning of all was the offer of five thousand pounds for my safe return.

“By George,” Henry whispered beneath his breath.

The vast amount brought me the first tingles of awakening. Who in his right mind paid five thousand pounds for the return of his wife?

I stared at Edward, trying to comprehend.

His eyes looked feverish, even as he pulled me tight against himself. He buried his nose in my hair. He clutched me tight, the way a child holds his most precious possession when fearing it will be snatched away.

I pressed against him too, feeling the hardness of his muscles beneath his suit.

“Flee,” Henry said. “Flee now.”

Edward looked coldly upon him. “And how do you propose I do that, Henry? Without money, with her in that gown, and with everyone on the lookout for her?”

Henry frowned at me. “Haven’t you anything else to wear?”

“No,” I said. “My clothing is at Eastbourne.”

It was obvious what Henry thought next, for he pinched his shirt at his waist, looking at me as if mentally measuring our difference. He scowled, looked at Edward, then skipped to Mr. Addams, who was the slenderest. “What about belting her into one of Devon’s suits?”

“And then what?” Edward sounded surlier. “Don’t you think it will raise questions the first time we enter a dressmaker’s wearing Devon’s clothing? Not that I have money to buy her a wardrobe. You don’t think questions will be raised about us? Because surely in Scotland no one cares about five thousand pounds! It’s nothing short of a miracle that smith is letting us escape!”

Mr. Addams visibly started and then blanched.

“What?” Henry demanded of him.

Before he could respond, the apprentice knocked on the carriage door, having finished his inspection. Henry scowled and climbed out. Mr. Addams pulled the curtains, as if fearing
Edward and I would be spotted, before exiting and shutting the door.

“What am I going to do?” I whispered to Edward.

“We,” Edward said. “What are
we
going to do? This is our problem. Not yours alone.” He cupped my face to view me. “Do you understand?”

Swallowing tears, I nodded.

“Hear me, Juls. I am going to fix this.”

I placed my right hand over one of his, savoring the feel of him.

His hands were already cupping my face; therefore it only took the slightest motion, just a tilt of my head, the lowering of my lashes, to unleash the torrent that had always existed between us.

I scarcely was cognizant of the first kiss—it was hardly a kiss, but more of an affirmation. I was Julia. He was Edward. Nothing could change that. We were still us. Regardless of what passed.