Born of Persuasion Page 8

  “Or she could practice,” Elizabeth said with an edge in her voice as I pressed a linen napkin into the stain. “Perhaps you’d best leave Julia to her own devices.”

  Lady Foxmore chuckled. “There is hope for you yet, Elizabeth. By and by, I may learn to forgive you your choice of mother.”

  I tucked the stained linen under the silver tray, feeling discomposed. Beneath Lady Foxmore’s friendly facade, I sensed she was disgruntled, like a tiger eyeing us through the bars of her metal cage.

  None of us drank our tea, and Elizabeth and I dared not risk blowing on it, so we sat silent for several minutes.

  “I suppose,” Lady Foxmore eventually said over the ticking clock, “you are wondering why such a crabby, eccentric woman would take on the challenge of finding you a husband?” Her eyes narrowed. “No, I see the thought never crossed your mind. Then I perceive you are only interested in what I might do for you. Find a wealthy husband; is that not so, child?”

  I set my cup in its saucer, ready to counter the thought.

  Lady Foxmore held up her hand. “Say nothing, Miss Elliston. It would shatter everything I like about you, were you to deny it, and there is precious little I like about you now. I owe this favor to your mother. Did you know I was well acquainted with her when she was your age?”

  “My mother!” My amazement was so complete, I sat forward. “That’s not possible. She never mentioned you.”

  “Nor would I have expected her to.” Lady Foxmore cooled her tea, her expression smug. “And it was just as well. She had no right to claim status with me. Had she tried to call on me, I should not have received her.”

  “But—”

  “After the death of her family in that fire,” she continued over me, “your mother spent the following summer with my niece Isabella in Bath. I chaperoned them to numerous balls and assemblies. She was a great favorite of mine, though stubborn as the year is long. Had she trusted me, she wouldn’t have married as low as she did and to such a dreadfully tempered man.”

  Mama never spoke of the past—never, not to anyone. I learned only a year ago, when I’d appealed to Sarah about my maternal grandparents, that her family had died in a fire. Sarah’s face paled as she apprised me of their fate, telling me never to mention it, as it would upset Mama.

  Finding a link to Mama’s past in Lady Foxmore was so overwhelming, I had no response. Lady Foxmore moved in the highest spheres. It didn’t seem possible that Mama had once belonged there. Suddenly, I wondered who else of consequence was connected to her past. Why that thought made me feel ill, I could not have said, but it did.

  My face must have hinted at my nausea, for Lady Foxmore gave me a strange look. I sipped tea to distract her, burning my tongue.

  “Did you . . . did you ever write my mother?” I asked, envisioning the slew of letters that drove her to suicide. “During this past year, perhaps—or know someone who might have?”

  Lady Foxmore shut her eyes as if I’d blundered. “Gracious, no. After her marriage she was no longer acknowledged by society. Had she married higher, perhaps . . .” Lady Foxmore studied my face. “With her good looks, I have not a doubt she could have captured a very wealthy husband. I have far better expectations for you.”

  I looked down, still wrestling with the thought that Mama had known Lady Foxmore. All those visits to Am Meer, and all the times we’d listened to stories involving her ladyship, Mama kept their acquaintance hidden, usually ushering Elizabeth and me from the room, stating gossip wasn’t suitable for young ears.

  I looked at Elizabeth, but it was as if Lady Foxmore and I were two actors on stage and she had no role.

  “Now, child—” Lady Foxmore set aside her teacup—“against my better judgment, I have agreed to find you a husband. But we still need to discuss my terms.”

  “Terms?” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose, giving me a warning look.

  Had not my stomach felt as though my body had been pulled to dizzying heights, I might have admitted I was taken aback as well.

  “Naturally. This is not the first time I’ve been paid to introduce a young lady, though generally the idea is to arrange wealth with title.” Lady Foxmore clutched the crook of her walking stick. “First thing is first. My usual fee for finding one a husband—”

  A firm knock sounded on the door, and Lady Foxmore gave a gasp of annoyance before calling over her shoulder, “Come in, John. I know it’s you.”

  Mr. Greenham opened the door. “Would I be interrupting?”

  “Nonsense. Were you truly concerned, you wouldn’t have disturbed us in the first place.” Lady Foxmore struck her walking stick against the floor, then gestured to me with her heavily jewelled hand to pour him a cup. “Come. I can see you are as curious about this girl as I am.”

  Greenham’s entry was as meticulous as his attire. His movements were genteel, his feet scarcely making a sound. He moved a chair near us, then studied me unabashedly. The way he slowly scrutinized my every feature drew a nervous response. Though the tea would taste bitter having brewed too long, I hastily poured a cup and handed it to him.

  “Now,” Lady Foxmore said, “my usual fee for introducing an upstart to society is one thousand pounds. Generally the hope is to crossbreed money with gentry, but in your case . . .” She made a gesturing wave over my dress. “My fee for you shall be two thousand pounds, which you shall agree to pay within a year of the wedding.”

  Elizabeth made a scoffing noise, then seeming to find the conversation too ludicrous, collapsed against the back of her chair and turned her face to the window.

  Lady Foxmore smiled, stirring her tea. “Are we agreed upon my first condition, Miss Elliston?”

  Mr. Greenham’s stare remained fastened upon me as I focused on the pool of brown in my cup. The number was astronomical. Even were I not fated to be a lady’s companion, which offered no wages, but say a governess, it would take me seventy years to pay such a sum. Yet she hadn’t said I’d owe her money unless I wed. She’d want her money, so surely she’d work to find me a rich husband—but that still left the problem of explaining after the ceremony, to my still-unknown husband, that he owed her two thousand pounds.

  “Will . . .” I took a breath. “What I mean is, if this person is unwilling to pay such a sum, would you accept jewelry, or perhaps an article worth that amount?”

  Lady Foxmore burst into laughter, clapping her hands. “Good gracious, John. She’s already planning to rob her new household.” She laughed again. “Yes, I daresay, child, I’ll accept payment in kind. Though I hope to marry you to a more generous husband than that. Consider the two thousand pounds my personal revenge for his using me as a matchmaker.” Here, Mr. Greenham stirred in his chair, giving her an evil look. “So, are we agreed?”

  I nodded, trying to ignore the strange manner in which Mr. Greenham watched me. Unknown to most, I still retained Mama’s emeralds—the heart of a priceless collection, or so Sarah said. Each piece—hair circlet, necklace, bracelet, brooch, and varying other pieces—was matched with peerless diamonds. The value of the set was so great, Mama never dared to even wear so much as one ring.

  “A verbal agreement, child. Do not leave our witnesses, John and Elizabeth, in doubt. Do you agree to my first term?”

  I felt like a girl in a fairy tale making a bargain with a witch. “Yes.”

  Elizabeth made a choking noise while Mr. Greenham turned his attention to his cup.

  “Good. Now for my next term. Nothing would induce me to present you to a person of consequence looking as such. Your garb is positively ghastly. You must start wearing color again.”

  “Oh, honestly,” Elizabeth burst into our conversation. “You cannot expect her to defy society on your orders. Besides, this entire conversation is irrelevant. Julia is under her guardian’s protection, and he’d never allow any of this.”

  “Guardian?” Lady Foxmore arched her eyebrows. “Who, child? I shall write this person.”

  After glaring at Elizabeth, I shook my head. “I
know not. He wishes to remain anonymous.”

  “Rubbish.” Lady Foxmore swept the air with her hand. “Anyone who refuses to reveal himself is hiding something and will not dare interfere with our plans. Had he been worthy in the first place, he never would have even allowed a visit to the Windhams. The next time I lay eyes on you, child, I expect you out of those ridiculous rags.” She held up a hand, though I’d made no attempt to interrupt her. “I gather you have no funds, but you’ll have to find a way to manage. I’m offering you a husband beyond the compass of your imagination. I expect to see a bit of fortitude on your part. Sell that locket if necessary. Just find a way.”

  My finger sought out the heavy, gold locket around my neck. Inside was a painted ivory of Mama and my father.

  “She’s not selling her locket.” Elizabeth rose alongside her voice. “Nor is she going to allow you to choose her a husband! Do you honestly think she’ll risk her reputation? We all know the rumors surrounding you, how more than one young lady in your charge has disappeared only to reappear after a questionable length of time, her middle thicker, never to marry.”

  Instead of appearing offended, Lady Foxmore looked rather amused. Her head trembled as she tried to hold still. “Am I to blame when young girls mishandle the freedom I give them?”

  Elizabeth turned and gathered her shawl from her chair. “Come, Julia. We’re leaving this conversation right now.”

  I fastened my gaze on a crackled ivory vase holding waxed roses.

  “Julia?” Elizabeth sounded panicked this time.

  When I sat unmoving, she picked up her skirts and hied to the door, her petticoats rustling. I envisioned her finding Henry. Doubtless by nightfall, Edward would learn what had transpired this afternoon, but I no longer cared.

  “Do you accept my second condition?” Lady Foxmore asked.

  My throat felt strained, so I nodded but then remembered it had to be verbal. “Yes.”

  “But she’s not selling her locket,” Mr. Greenham said in a firm voice.

  “So, you are capable of speech.” Lady Foxmore shifted to view him. “Good heavens, John, if you must make noise, wait and test your conversational skills on someone else. I do not like interruptions, especially from men who normally refuse to speak.”

  He set his untouched cup of tea aside and sat forward. After divesting his waistcoat of a pocketbook, he pulled out several pound notes. “I believe this should suffice for a new wardrobe, yes?”

  “You know I cannot accept that,” I said, staring at the notes. “No lady can acce—”

  “Make no mistake, Miss Elliston,” Lady Foxmore said. “We are no longer working within society’s confines. If you wish to marry a husband on the top rung, you may find yourself compromising in many ways—”

  “No.” My throat grew even tighter. “There are some things I shall never do.”

  “Nor shall you be asked to,” Mr. Greenham said through gritted teeth, glaring at Lady Foxmore. “Upon my oath, nothing shall be required of you which you are unwilling to do. If I may be allowed, let me restate my offer. Would you honor me by permitting me to purchase your locket? I shall retain it until you are capable of purchasing it back again.”

  “That’s hardly showing fortitude on her part, John.”

  A vein in his neck emerged. “This is no game, and—”

  “Temper, temper,” Lady Foxmore said in a singsong voice.

  His eyes flashed with a look of sheer rage, but unlike my father he found a place in which to tuck it away. He turned back to me in full control of himself and extended the banknotes. “Will you honor me by accepting my offer?”

  THE NIGHT FOLLOWING my pact with Lady Foxmore, a smattering of pebbles bounced off the shutters, puncturing my dreams. I opened my eyes, realizing the sound had been incorporated into my last few minutes of sleep.

  Another round of pebbles skidded across the wood.

  Of all that had happened since my arrival at Am Meer, this sickened me the most, for I knew it was Edward. I guessed he’d learned about my visit with Lady Foxmore.

  I wanted nothing more than for Edward to leave, but I knew him too well. If he wanted an audience, he’d stop at nothing short of plowing through the thatched roof.

  Brushing aside the locks of hair cascading over my eyes, I threw back the covers and hastily donned my wrapper. Ignoring the ache in my legs from the long walk to Lady Foxmore’s residence, I went to the window and threw open the shutters.

  Clouds obscured the sky, but light from the waxing moon still served as an illuminant. Drizzle hazed over the withered vines and the rosebushes that had been cut back for the approaching winter.

  Dressed in his cassock, Edward was bending over, retrieving more pebbles, but it was what came next that froze my blood. His elbow suddenly protruded from his shadowed form, and he both staggered and wiped his eyes. A sob rent the silence as he stumbled in his quest for more stones.

  Intoxicated?

  I drew in a breath of cold air. Experience had taught me men never sobbed except when drunk—and volatile. I clutched the windowsill, fearing not the violence Edward might be capable of, but his tongue. Sober, he was a gentleman and would never allow his words to cut, but drunk . . . ?

  He straightened to strike my window again, but upon catching sight of me, his hand dropped and pebbles fell from it.

  “Come down,” he ordered, and then plodded toward the ancient oak.

  My feet were stone as silence engulfed the night. It was foolishness to confront Edward in this state of mind. But I detested my own fear. I had sworn to never again feel weak, to never again cower before another’s temper. Glancing up at the cloudy sky, I wondered how many times Mama had stood thus, cold tingling through her fingers as she summoned courage to confront my father. Yet she had always gone. Her face granite, her heart marble, she always went.

  Gathering fortitude from her memory, I left the window to find slippers. I crept from my room and down the hall, where I shushed the dogs that stirred beneath the bench where the hall boy slept.

  Outdoors, I made my way to the spinney, which at night seemed primeval. Gossamer webs clung to my hands and robe as I groped through the darkness. The marshy ground seeped into my shoes, causing my toes to ache with the chill. The scents invading the air were not those of my childhood meetings with Edward—but carried the foul odor of a bog.

  Under a bower of our oak tree, I stopped and crossed my arms, no longer fearing the woods or Edward’s coming wrath. Drizzle rustled the leaves above me as mist coiled about my ankles.

  I felt Edward’s presence before I saw him.

  “Look at me,” he commanded from behind.

  I obeyed, twisting to see over my shoulder, certain that defiance must be written over my every feature. Though it was dark, I saw him—and knew he saw me—although nebulously. Damp curls rested against his pale face. His countenance gave the impression he’d returned from the scene of a great tragedy.

  “You went to her?” His cry was impassioned with pain, his voice hoarse. “You entered into an agreement for her to arrange a marriage?”

  I said nothing as he circled to the front of me, though my stomach hollowed with the realization there was no stench of ale upon his breath.

  “What of us, Juls? Why drag me to that godforsaken dinner if you had no intention of acceding to our betrothal?”

  I tightened my wrapper, narrowing my eyes at him.

  “What?” he shouted. “Are you going to deny that, too? We were never engaged? Was it not this very spot!”

  “No,” I slowly said in a tone that Sarah would have called quarrelsome. “I do not deny that we were engaged, only that you intend to honor the commitment.”

  He emitted a growling sound. “I’m not the one who walked away from here and never came back. It’s been three years, Julia!” His bellowing caused birds to take noisy flight from their trees. “You’re the one who refused to visit after learning I intended to enter the church. You’re the one who couldn’t stand to look u
pon me in my vestments. You’re the one petitioning others to find you a husband.”

  “That wasn’t me! That was Mama! And we didn’t even know you intended to enter the church. But it was you who betrayed us. You. You knew what the church did to my family.”

  “Not the church. One man, one vicar. You know nothing about what you’re rejecting alongside me. You’re ruining our lives because of the actions of one person. One!”

  “Do not presume to lecture me. You knew you were severing all relations with us. Well, take your accursed church. Take it and go. I no longer want you.”

  His eyes blazed as intensity marked his features. Until that moment I never noticed he stood a full head taller than myself, for he’d always seemed exactly my height. “Fine.” He ground the words out. “Do not expect me to come grovelling at your next beck and call. May you find what you deserve with Lady Foxmore. She’s as false as you are.”

  Turning his back to me, he stalked off into the ebon shadows.

  I did not move, my face still twisted in anger and my body heated from our exchange. To an outsider, I might have appeared unmoved, untouched by the scene. But in truth, I struggled not to fragment into irrecoverable pieces.

  I’d never told anyone, but conjuring Edward in my mind had helped me survive Mama’s burial. While gravediggers dug the cold, wet earth, I’d stood in the rain, listening to their shovels chink against the bones of the excommunicated, trying to callous myself that in a few years hence Mama would likewise be disinterred to make room in the crowded yard.

  The apothecary, Mr. Hollis, stuttering and turning various shades of red, had advised me to attend the body until the very end—here he’d been obliged to remove his spectacles and wipe them—because without my presence, someone might show their reverence to the church by taking their fury out on Mama’s coffin, as they had my father’s. The risk of her body being seen was too high.

  For hours I ignored the reek of corpses by pretending Edward’s strong hand cupped my elbow. To drown out the gravediggers’ cursing, I’d made up encouraging words which Edward might have whispered in my ear.