Born of Persuasion (49 page)

From there it only grew. Every pent-up fear, every desperate hope, every lonely hour we’d lost—all somehow found their way into that moment. It was as though each touch healed, as though Edward were pulling me from the frozen ice in which I’d been encased—and I were doing the same for him.

The carriage door opened, bringing with it a cool swirl of air.

I felt Edward’s body stiffen before he slowly turned to acknowledge Henry and Mr. Addams. I wiped my lips, turning away from their horrified expressions. To my embarrassment, my gaze landed upon the newspaper on the opposite seat that declared me brazen.

“Not one word, Henry,” Edward said in a tone that not even Mama in her most obstinate mood would have disobeyed. “Not one!”

I straightened in my seat, tucking my hair back into place, feeling my cheeks turn scarlet.

Henry’s face was granite, and he stepped into the carriage.
Seething, he faced Edward. “This—” he wagged his index finger between us—“I will not tolerate. So help me, Edward, man up and elope with her.” Henry’s nostrils flared as he leaned right into Edward’s face and spoke through clenched teeth. “If I ever catch you acting like that again, while refusing to take the nobler action, I will not hesitate to call you out!”

“What?” Edward still breathed heavily as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You think I intended for that to happen?”

Henry yanked him by his lapels and shook him.

“Henry, stop!” I grabbed one of his hands and tried to remove it from Edward, but he was too strong. “Please, stop!”

All at once, Henry released him and Edward jerked his arm away. The brothers sat panting heavily across from each other.

“Come on. Let’s go,” Mr. Addams said, climbing in. His face matched his hair as he avoided looking at me.

“I’m taking us home, so you can talk to your precious Churchill,” Henry said. “And then I’m leaving you to your conscience. All your pretty speeches, Edward, all your exhortations to follow the gospel, and this—” he pointed between us—“this is the summation? Do not ever attempt to speak to me again about what is noble. You’ve lost that right.”

Once I had seen the vicar back home caught in a lie. When cornered, he grew stately and dignified, and he glared at his accuser with such coldness that even I, from a distance, squirmed.

Edward’s reaction couldn’t have been more different. Pain flushed his eyes before he looked down with anguish at his hands. He could not have seemed more horrified by his actions if he discovered he had strangled someone.

His face contorted as he shut his eyes and faced the window.

I threw out my hand in order to balance myself as the carriage swayed into motion. Edward’s reaction staggered me more than Henry’s rebuke. It was the first time I realized the depth of Edward’s convictions.

Dread prickled along the back of my neck. In the past, Henry had never grown angry when we’d made mistakes. He used to be the first to brush the dust from our clothing and congratulate us after a mischievous prank—no matter the outcome.

The Henry I remembered couldn’t care less if Edward married and then stole me.

Unease filled me, and I gave Henry a keen look, trying to reason this. Only a month ago, he and Elizabeth were firm in their belief that I could lure Edward away from his religious craze.

So why did Henry now fear that his brother would hazard my future and then abandon me to it?

When we stopped before a row of slate-roofed buildings with mullioned windows, Henry hopped out first and began his inspection of the carriage. Edward assisted me, then turned to Henry, who knelt in the dirt with the driver.

“Are you coming with us?” Edward asked him.

Henry frowned, measuring the angle the wheel was bent at with his hand. “Yes, I’m coming.” To his driver, “Take it to Wilson and Sons. I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

Edward directed me to a building trimmed in blue. The hanging sign read,
Mr. Winthrop Lydon Churchill. Solicitor.

A shop bell announced our entrance as heat rushed from the building. Scents of caraway and ginger diffused outside. Inside, an elderly man slept by the fire. He reminded me of Luther, our old manservant, except that when he awoke, he wore a friendly smile.

“Edward, my dear boy.” Aged hands gripped the ends of the rocking chair as the man pulled himself to a stand with rheumatic movements. “I thought you had gone visiting.”

Henry and Mr. Addams entered and doffed their hats.

The old man stopped in his tracks as he looked in my
direction. He tugged on his ear, considering me. His gaze lingered longest on my gown.

Wrinkled from head to toe, I imagined I looked like Mr. Forrester. My green taffeta gown would never be the same. Some of the lace along the bottom had ripped and hung in a frayed loop. My hair, at least, was pulled back in a plain style and my emeralds were safely tucked inside Edward’s satchel. I returned the frank stare, wondering if he’d read the paper.

The old man gave a heavy sigh. “When you’ve been in this business as long as I have, you learn that visages like yours never bear good news. Come in. Bad news will keep until there’s tea in hand. That is, provided you have the time.”

Henry frowned. “No, we’d much rather get this over with as soon as possible. We’ve a lot of preparations to make.”

“We have time.” Edward glared at him.

The elderly man nodded, shuffling back to his seat. “Very well, then. Edward, will you fetch the service? Hot water is on the stove.”

Edward pulled one of the armchairs away from the overbearing blaze and directed me to it. Then to his brother and his friend, “Henry, Devon, don’t touch anything. Please, just sit.”

Henry snapped down the lid on a box he’d been peering into.

While the gentlemen settled, I tucked my feet beneath the chair, then smoothed my skirts in hopes that a few wrinkles would uncrease and clasped my hands over my lap. Every nook and cranny was stuffed with small curios, instruments, aged papers, and antiquated pens. Shadows from the fire flickered on both dusty and polished surfaces. Scents of bergamot and orange mixed with the ginger and caraway. Condensation on the windows offered privacy from passersby.
What a strange place,
I thought with dismay,
for my future to be decided.

After five minutes, Edward appeared carrying a tea tray. While Mr. Addams moved a pile of books, making place for the
tray, Henry went to the oversized desk and procured the wooden chair for Edward’s use.

Mr. Churchill served tea. My cup was so ancient it lacked a handle and was overrun with hairline cracks, rivalling the spiderlike veins that crisscrossed its owner’s hands. When the last cup had been served, the elderly gentleman faced Edward. “So, boy, why have you brought me Macy’s lost bride? There’s no need to look surprised. One only has to look at her to realize who she is.”

Edward leaned forward as his brows drew together. “I need to know how to assist her. I rashly married the two of them. She left Macy, and I want to maintain her ability to stay away from him. There are things about him—” Edward’s voice was so strained it closed on itself—“abhorrent, unspeakable things. Depravity she cannot possibly fathom. Do you remember telling me once about a case you worked on years ago? His name was Adolphus, I think. Her husband, he is similar to this man. Maybe worse.”

Mr. Churchill recoiled with a shudder. “Edward, to repeat that name is to invite death. I am disappointed in you, boy. I told you about that client in confidence.”

“Forgive me.” Edward rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’ve not slept well. But that is the level of evil we’re dealing with.”

“Have you proof? That’s a grave accusation.”

“You won’t like my answer, but I know because I sense it.” Edward sat straight. “I’m absolutely convinced he’s evil, though I lack proof.”

Mr. Churchill shut his eyes, seemingly too overwhelmed by our ignorance to know where to begin. Every time he looked like he was about to say something, he’d give his head another slight shake. “Edward, I credit you enough to not explain the obvious. But hear me, boy. Even if you had proof, what do you expect me to do?”

“Surely there must be some action she can take. Can she sue for separation? On grounds of cruelty, perhaps?”

Tugging his earlobe, Mr. Churchill studied me. “Are you in danger?”

“Yes,” Edward answered for me.

“Let the girl speak for herself.” Then to me, “Be truthful. Do you fear your master?”

To this point, I’d listened, unable to think. With a frown, I recalled Edward’s irritability when Lady Foxmore had tried to gossip about Rooke. It wasn’t in Edward’s character to accuse anyone, much less to the degree he had accused my husband. I stared at him, wondering what he’d heard that he couldn’t repeat or admit he knew. Had he learned that Mr. Macy had once been a blackmailer? Or, I wondered, had he heard something worse?

“Is she incapable of speaking?” Mr. Churchill asked Edward, sounding earnest.

Edward turned to me. “No. She’s exceedingly shy. It’s all right, Julia. I’ve known Churchill my entire life. He will not steer us wrong. You can answer him. Has Macy ever hurt you?”

“He . . . Mr. Macy . . .” I felt the sting of tears, uncertain why I felt compelled to cry.

“Has he injured you?” Mr. Churchill asked with concern threading his voice.

I shook my head and swiped a tear.

“There’s hope,” Mr. Churchill said to Edward. “If he had, and she forgave the behavior, she would have lost the legal right to plead her case. But if he hasn’t threatened her life or limb, she has no grounds to sue for separation.”

“There must be some action she can take.”

Mr. Churchill removed his spectacles and folded them over his lap. With a weary look, he rubbed tired eyes. “He’s her husband. He has full legal custody of her. Not only can he sue for the restitution of conjugal rights, but also, lawfully, he may force his way into any house and carry her away. Edward, what do you seek from me? I’ll credit her husband this much: at least he
seems very concerned. I’ve read his public letter to her. Its very tone is forgiveness and understanding for her youth.”

“Well, then, maybe she can contest the marriage. It’s never been consummated. Even Henry and his friend agree she may have argument, since they lied to me so I’d wed them.”

“What did they lie about? Did they hide a legal impediment, or their true identity?”

“No.” Edward’s strained expression told me he would not reveal how the marriage was brought about. “It was nothing of that sort.”

“Did you solemnize their vows?”

“Yes.”

“Then, being a vicar, you know the law on this. She’s married.”

Tugging at his collar, Edward strode to the window. He cleared a small spot with his sleeve and peered through the wavy glass.

“Are you even certain she’s in danger?” Mr. Churchill asked after several minutes of silence. “She does not impress me as frightened.”

Disliking the keen look with which he studied me, I shifted my gaze, wondering what these men would think of the fact that I’d married Mr. Macy fully cognizant that his past held dark secrets.

“He has kept his true self from her,” Edward said.

I shifted my feet, wishing that statement were true. I felt too ashamed to correct him.

“Then she may be perfectly safe. I read the man’s entreaty and thought him quite anxious over her to offer such a sum. Besides, she must have felt some degree of affection for him. How did she come to leave him? How did this matter even fall into your hands?”

“I stole her after the ceremony.” Edward faced us and ignored Mr. Churchill’s shock. “I do not confess to know what
he experiences toward her, but it’s not love or respect. If it were, he wouldn’t have enticed, manipulated, and then ruined her.”

I tucked the various wisps of hair that had escaped my chignon behind my ears as if unmoved by their speech. Nonetheless my throat swelled. At that time, I did not understand that Macy had manipulated me. For had I not willingly agreed to our arrangement? Thus I only felt shame upon hearing Edward’s assessment.

“Surely,” Edward continued, “you know of some safe haven, someplace I can take her.”

Mr. Churchill looked at me as he rocked to one side as though his hip disturbed his comfort. When he spoke again, he looked only at Edward. His voice was lowered. “Edward, why are you still with her? You know what you must do.”

“A good shepherd seeks out his lost sheep.”

“When the other ninety-nine are in safe pasture, not scattered abroad. Have you any idea what will happen to your parish? Have you no better sense than to covet the wife of another man? Has all I’ve taught you been for naught?”

Edward let out a tired-sounding laugh. “I’m not coveting; I’m protecting. Do you have any idea how trying it is to watch someone twist and manipulate the person you love? Tell me where to take her.”

“There is nothing you can do for her. Step aside. Allow the man to collect his wife.”

“Surrender her to a ruthless man?”

“Have you any choice? By law, she’s his property. Of far more consequence, you cannot both follow God and keep another man’s wife. You must choose. If she’s called, God will see to her. If she’s not, then allow the dead to bury the dead. What can she be, except an instrument of death to you as well? Remember, Edward, ‘to deliver thee from the strange woman, which forsaketh the guide of her youth. For her house inclineth unto death.’”