Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege) (50 page)

Strong arms and the scent of cloves pulled me from my dreams.

“Paaaaapa?” I asked.

“She sounds drugged.” It was Forrester’s obnoxious voice. I tried to tell him to go away, but the words got lost before they reached my mouth.

“Yes. She was rather hysterical when she reached me. I gave her something to calm her nerves.” Mr. Macy’s voice sounded as if it echoed from a sharp angle. “Really, Roy. The only reason I’m allowing her to go back is because she wished to, but my patience wears thin. This is your last chance to work things out with me. Why do you insist on your own ruination?”

“Help me get her to my carriage,” my father said in a stern voice.

I opened my eyes, but the room looked filled with fog. A glass clinked, and through the blur I saw a form at the drink table. It was Macy. “Make a request, any request,” he said, “and see if I won’t trade for her.”

“The Flanders documents,” Mr. Forrester said.

“Done.”

“And the letters from the Mallory affair?”

“I will give you every letter and document in my possession that you can ask for by name,” Mr. Macy said. “In addition to what I promised for your protégé, Pierson.”

“You’ll return to Eastbourne,” Forrester continued, “and abide by the rules my father placed on you.”

There was a slight pause, followed by, “Yes . . . provided she’s with me.”

The support on my left side vanished as Mr. Forrester stepped away. “Do it, Roy. Look at her. She’s safe here. He’ll care for her.”

“Paaapa,” I said with effort. Surely he wouldn’t leave me.

“Robert, are you out of your mind?” My father struggled to support me by himself, but his strong arm never stopped clutching me. “I want to know why she’s here. Where is her clothing? What happened to her hands?”

Mr. Macy laughed. “I’m sorry, Roy, but I’ll not betray your daughter’s confidences. If she wants you to know about tonight, let her tell you.” His voice took on humor. “I’ll certainly not deny anything that she claims we’ve done.”

“Leave her,” Mr. Forrester said in a whisper. “She’s not what you think. She’s the one who gave me the injury above my eye.”

“Either you help me get my daughter into my carriage,” my father said with quiet fury, “or don’t ever show your face to me again.”

I felt someone take my left arm, none too gently.

“The offer stands,” Macy said.

I AWOKE CALM. My head throbbed and my hands smarted. I wasn’t in my bedroom, but a smaller room, downstairs in London House perhaps. The bed linens were white and the bed of a simple iron construction. The draperies over the window were closed, and black crepe covered the mirrors, making my stomach drop. Isaac sat in a chair at my bedside without expression.

“Who died?” I asked. Fear that it might be my father filled me.

“Eramus.”

With a tingle of horror, I realized that Macy must have killed him. I covered my mouth with my hand.

“There are magistrates waiting to speak with you.”

“Why?”

“The last person to see Eramus alive said that he intended on visiting you. Did he?”

All at once, I recalled Eramus leering and turning the poker over in the hot coals. I shivered and nodded.

“He hurt you, didn’t he?”

I nodded, half-expecting Isaac to comfort me, but he remained silent, slumped in his chair, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Is my father angry?”

This stirred Isaac for a moment, but he would not meet my eyes. “I’ll find him.”

A few moments later, my father, Forrester, Isaac, and two investigators stood beside the iron bedposts.

“Are you up to answering some questions, miss?” one of the investigators asked.

“Yes.” My mouth felt dry and tasted bad.

“We’d like to speak to your daughter alone,” the other said.

My father protested, but Forrester reasoned with him until he left the room.

“No need to look so frightened of us, miss.” The tall one moved Isaac’s chair near the window. “My name is Constable Laverock and this is Constable Noyes. Did you see your cousin Eramus last night?”

“He came to the house.”

“What time?”

I tried to remember, but except for Edward’s unwound watch, I hadn’t glanced at a clock. “Around eleven, I think.”

They nodded and looked as though that confirmed prior information.

“Just tell us what happened.”

I licked my lips, wondering how to manage this. Constable Noyes poured me a glass of water. I took a sip. “I think he owed people money and intended to take some of my jewelry.”

“Did you two have a heated argument?”

I felt my brow wrinkle. “Not exactly.”

“Never mind; just continue with your story.”

My voice was shaking now. “He threw my Bible in the fire, and I took it out of the flames; then he tried to destroy a piece of my jewelry.”

“Go on.”

“I jerked free of him and he fell, and—”

They gave each other sharp looks. “Where were you?”

“In the library.”

Constable Noyes frowned. “Miss Pierson, Constable Laverock and I had the honor of waiting for you in the library. Are you aware that the servants are concerned over a missing poker?”

I didn’t know whether I should answer yes or no. No, I had not been aware that the servants noticed it missing, but yes, I was aware it was misplaced.

“Do you know anything about it?” Laverock asked.

“Yes, Eramus chased me with it.”

“Chased you? Where?”

“To Mr. Macy’s residence.”

My answer was met with a different response than I expected. They froze. Noyes finally asked, “Whose residence did you say?”

“Mr. Chance Macy. He took me inside and personally tended to my wounds.”

“What wounds?”

I withdrew my hands from under the covers to show them, but the bandages were gone. I blinked at the change, bringing to mind how Macy’s ring had contrasted against the white dressings. Wondering if I had dreamed that part, I slipped my hand into the gown’s pocket and withdrew the ring.

The constables’ gazes locked on the ring. Laverock broke out in a cold sweat, never taking his stare from the ring, except once to look at me in amazement. “I—I think I understand. You and your cousin were on a walk when you were attacked from behind.” He turned to Noyes. “That explains the second body in the river. Their chaperone.”

Noyes nodded agreement and took a step away from me. “She escaped and found shelter with Mr. Macy.”

Laverock was a pasty color now and unbuttoned his collar. “What injuries did you sustain, Miss Pierson?”

I touched the back of my head and winced. It was swollen where it’d been gashed. “The back of my head mostly. My hands.”

Noyes backed toward the door and placed his hand on the handle. “We’ll file it in our report. I don’t have any further questions. Do you?”

Laverock shook his head but looked at me with fear and amazement.

“How did Eramus die?” I asked. “Where was he found?”

“It’s not something for a lady to know, miss,” Noyes said.

“She’s holding his ring,” Laverock hissed in a whisper. “If she asks a question, you give her an answer.” Then to me, “He was found floating in the Thames, facedown. The back of his head had been bashed in and . . .” He paused and looked at my hands. “His hands and feet looked as though they’d been held over a fire. His arms and legs were broken, and—”

Fearing I might be sick, I looked around for a basin. “And the other man?” I managed to say.

Laverock fished in his pocket for a piece of paper. “Adam Tanby.”

Constable Noyes opened the door. Isaac and James waited in the hall. Without asking permission, Isaac entered and took a seat. James motioned for the constables to follow him.

I waited for Isaac to speak, but he didn’t. Five, ten minutes passed in silence. James brought in tea and sweet rolls and set them at my bedside.

After several more minutes, Isaac rose, leaned over, and pulled a cigar box from the dresser in the room. I lifted the cover, and the scent of Macy filled the room. Inside, the missing citrine jewelry sat nestled in velvet.

“There was a note.” Isaac’s voice tightened. “Your father must not have wanted you to read it. Macy said he tracked down every piece Eramus stole except one. The necklace was stripped down, but Macy offered to buy you any necklace you desired to replace it.”

I could only stare at the glittering stones.

“Is that his robe?” Isaac asked.

I looked down, though I already knew I still wore Macy’s scarlet-and-gold dressing gown. Heat filled my face. “Yes.”

He remained blank-looking, but his jaw tightened.

Misunderstanding his dismay, I thought him jealous, so I explained, “My dress was soaked with blood and scorched. My skirt was crusted with mud, and Macy cut the sleeve of my dress trying to assess whether I was hurt or not.”

I pushed up the sleeve, surprised by the grisly marks Eramus had left on my arm. Looking at it made it painful, whereas previously it barely ached.

Isaac stared, horror-struck. Protection filled his eyes, but I could see he battled another emotion. When a pair of footsteps sounded outside the door, he rose.

My father, trailed by Forrester, appeared. “Is the story the constables told me true?”

“I didn’t hear what they said,” I replied, “but I told them the truth.”

Isaac looked askance from his corner, as though he knew I was dissembling somehow but couldn’t figure out where.

“Tell me what happened, then,” my father said.

Isaac turned his back to me—I believed so I couldn’t read the emotion on his face should he show any. Keeping my voice steady, I told about Eramus and my midnight chase to Macy’s house.

Forrester addressed my father. “He’s been right under our noses, which means she’s been slipping in and out this entire time. Notice how she knew exactly where to run.”

“I never should have taken you in! Robert’s had you pegged from the beginning.”

“Sir?” Isaac spun.

“I’ve known Eramus since he was born,” my father said, collapsing in the chair. “He wouldn’t terrorize my daughter.
I don’t know how you ended up at Macy’s, but that story is a falsehood if I ever heard one.”

“She’s not lying.”

“Isaac, I know you had hopes . . .” My father placed his elbows on his lap. “I’m sorry.”

“There are things I’ve never told you about Eramus,” Isaac said. He spoke and stood as though he were separated from his emotions. “This is my fault. I—I thought I had the situation under control. May I speak to you privately in the smoking room? I don’t want Julia hearing.”

They were gone over an hour. Though Isaac had once agreed to share with me what he knew about Eramus Calvin, I never asked to learn what they spoke about. I couldn’t bear to know Isaac’s pain. I had my own terrifying memories of the man.

When they returned, my father boiled with anger. “We will mourn Eramus for two weeks, out of respect for Lady Beatrice. Then I never want his name spoken again!”

The tranquillizer Mr. Macy stirred into my drink that night brimmed over into my life. Impassivity ruled London House. Even the lavish woodwork and polished surfaces seemed cold and uninviting. Isaac, the gentleman as always, tended to my needs but never allowed me to see past his mask. My father attended sessions, but when he came home, he looked at neither Isaac nor me. He spoke softly, walked softly, and spent many hours in his smoking room, the scent of Havana smoke strong outside the door.

Each morning, as I clad myself in crepe, I felt a grim sense of relief. There could be no betrothal during our seclusion of grief. The rules of mourning did not allow me to wear Edward’s pin, which could have saved us from our daily ritual of tension, but Isaac no longer seemed to note me.

Surprisingly, it was Lady Beatrice who sought my company.
The magistrates told her that Eramus died protecting me, so she clung to me, hours a day, crying in my lap. Numbness still accompanied me as I stroked her back. I’d stare, wondering if she actually wept for Eramus or for herself. Many times as I held her frail, shaking shoulders, I looked over at Isaac in wonderment. He sat with a black mourning band wrapped about his arm, his eyes distant.

Mr. Macy haunted my dreams. The dreams repeated themselves over and again until I felt that I never slept but only shifted from the same incubus into reality. It started with Mr. Macy, taller than Mr. Greenham, picking me out from the mud or a crowd of jeering people. He’d take me home and coil around me like a snake, suffocating me. Just when I readied myself to die, he was replaced by Edward, who comforted me, telling me that it was all a nightmare. He’d never left me.