11/24/2014
In the final book of a trilogy, Dotta completes the story of Julia Elliston, an emotionally scarred woman who discovers she is an heiress. Though the status of her marriage to Chance Macy is unclear (given questions about Macy’s circumstances), Julia weds Edward, her childhood sweetheart and the local vicar. She believes the hardships plaguing her life are finally over, but her happiness is short-lived. Edward’s parents reject Julia, and his congregation decries him for marrying a scandalous woman. The couple heads to London in search of a fresh start, but unbeknownst to Edward, Julia has blackmailed Macy, who vows to get revenge. Julia’s life disintegrates as it becomes clear that Macy will stop at nothing to conceal the secret Julia holds. The story is told in retrospect from Julia’s point of view and will appeal to readers who like dark romanticism. The vast array of characters and their relationships, however, may prove challenging for those not familiar with the two previous books. Agent: Chip MacGregor, MacGregor Literary Agency. (Jan.)
Price of Privilege
Narrated by Amanda McKnight
Jessica DottaUnabridged — 13 hours, 8 minutes
Price of Privilege
Narrated by Amanda McKnight
Jessica DottaUnabridged — 13 hours, 8 minutes
Overview
Editorial Reviews
Where will she turn when the truth becomes more dangerous than the lie?
Having finally discovered the truth of her birthright, Julia Elliston is determined to outwit Chance Macy at his own game. Holding knowledge he’d kill to keep secret, however, is proving more difficult than she imagined.
Just when Julia thinks she’s managed to untangle herself from Macy’s clutches, the scandal of the century breaks loose. Drawing rooms all over London whisper what so far newspapers have not dared to print: Macy’s lost bride is none other than Lord Pierson’s daughter, Julia—and one of the most controversial cases of marital law ever seen comes before Victorian courts.
Though Julia knows Macy’s version of events is another masterful manipulation, public opinion is swaying in his favor. Caught in a web of deceit and lies, armed only with a fledgling faith, Julia must face her fiercest trial yet.
Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940169083590 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Oasis Audio |
| Publication date: | 01/01/2015 |
| Series: | Price of Privilege , #3 |
| Edition description: | Unabridged |
Read an Excerpt
Price of Privilege
By JESSICA DOTTA
Tyndale House Publishers
Copyright © 2015 Jessica DottaAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4143-7557-1
CHAPTER 1
HOW CURIOUS IT IS , at long last, to write about the trials. Long have they been guarded, the truth kept veiled.
At first, it wasn't proper to speak of them. When so much is lost, who can bear to trample over the little that remains? One afternoon, years afterwards, sadness overtook me, and as I stood in the cool shade beneath leafy bowers, I realized my opportunity to disclose the full truth had passed. Lives were tentatively healing, and to speak would have been disruptive. By that point, my name was so besmirched by lies, accusations, and assumptions, my only defense was to allow the remainder of my life to testify to my true character.
During that period, I faced the fullness of myself and glimpsed the substance of my soul. What a strange alloy it comprised—fear intertwined with hope, cowardice lumped with bravery, innocence amassed with sin.
It is no wonder in my case God demanded a crucible. We often fail to recognize our greatest godsend simply because it comes bundled in suffering.
Thus only now, as I prepare to chronicle those fateful months, have I reopened memories long stuffed into boxes, stored in dusty closets of forgotten chambers. Each box opened contains something precious yet equally cruel. As I bring forth the last of these remembrances, the picture finally clears, and I am able to comprehend how stunning the events actually were.
What strange nonsense I must seem to write, the babblings of an old woman, a monied dowager at that. Yet have I ever used pity as my cloak? Was I not born despised and unwanted? Only a strange twist took me from being unheeded to being one of the most influential voices of the century.
Who could have predicted such an end?
Who could have foreseen the vast power and wealth that my name would one day accrue?
But I am off point.
I begin at the end of the story that most think they understand, though in truth, they know nothing about.
The first morning I awoke in Edward's arms, I stirred in my slumber, feeling a deep sensation of lament as if something had slipped through my fingers, though I could not place what. Shivering, I shifted position and pulled the blanket higher. The nap of homespun cloth scraped my skin.
My eyes opened. No London House sheets were these.
The very first sight that greeted me was a window framing the beginnings of dawn. Only the trunk of the nearest tree could be seen in the morning fog, its branches seemingly disappearing into the mist. A grey light, thin as gruel, seeped into the cramped chambers, recalling me to my surroundings.
My breath frosted the air as I thrilled with gratitude. Of course! This was Edward's church and today was Henry and Elizabeth's wedding! I shifted onto my back and viewed the century-old slatted wood ceiling that had been resurrected as an addition to the sanctuary. The stark architecture was so unlike my father's lavish houses that I couldn't help but give a silent offering of thanks. It was as if I'd been drawn out from stormy waters and placed on the solid planking of a ship. Here, I would become myself again.
Last night, I scarcely dared to sleep, fearing that I'd wake and discover this all a dream. But now, the acceptance that this was actually true prevented all chance of returning to slumber. I turned on my stomach and propped myself on my elbows to hungrily take in every detail of our home.
To call that space a chamber was a decided compliment, yet I adored every inch of it. How much better I understood the nap of wool over the gloss of satin.
A single table served also as a desk, evidenced by the books, Bible, inkwell, and parchment laid out in orderly stacks. There were only two chairs—one shoved beneath the desk, the other in the corner where it doubled as a valet, holding Edward's extra folded clothing. Next to it, a single fireplace with a rough-hewn wood mantel provided both the kitchen and heating source. I gave the cast-iron pot hanging from the crossbar a dubious look. Surely Edward wouldn't expect me to cook. I frowned, pulling the blanket over my chilled shoulder. In the past, I'd kept Sarah company while she dressed poultry, but I'd never heeded her work. And nearly six months with Pierrick, my father's world-renowned chef, hadn't extended my skills beyond choosing the proper sauce and embellishment. That knowledge hardly constituted what Edward needed in a wife.
Edward stirred, emptying the pocket of warmth trapped between us. His cold nose nuzzled through my thick hair. Sleep rusted his voice. "Awake already, Juls?"
Instead of answering, I snuggled tighter against him, savoring his warmth.
He planted a sleepy kiss on the back of my head, then slung an arm across me to pull me close. "The girls will be here soon to decorate, and I doubt our news has circulated. Besides, it's getting late. We should rise."
I squeezed my eyes shut. Clearly we needed to discuss what constituted "late." I hitched the blanket higher. "You forget, we told Mrs. Windham we were married last night. I warrant the entire village knows by now."
"What? And risk that our news might upstage Henry and Elizabeth's wedding? Surely not!"
Smiling, I opened my eyes. "Don't you think hiding it is more of a hazard? Someone else might catch wind and spread the news first. Trust me, everyone knows."
"All right." Edward jostled the bed as he repositioned himself. "What do I get when I win?"
"When you win?" I turned and settled on my back, then viewed the tousled silhouette of Edward. He studied me as he propped on one elbow. Even in the semidarkness, the love in his eyes created quiescence within me. They say the ancients believed peace was a rare gift bestowed on mortals they favored. In that moment, I understood the belief. My cup couldn't have been fuller. I stretched, giving him a mischievous look.
Teasing filled his eyes. "Hmmm. How about a fair share of the blanket?"
I gave a mock pout. "That's your best demand?"
"Aye." He traced the outline of my face as he leaned forward to kiss me, but then merriment crinkled his eyes, and from my peripheral vision, I noted that his right hand inched toward the edge of the blanket.
I tilted up toward his kiss, but just before our lips met, I shrieked with laughter and yanked the blanket hard, then rolled over and cocooned myself in wool.
Edward roared with laughter. "Why, you little—" The straw in the mattress shifted as he pinioned me between his knees and searched for a seam. "That's it. As your husband, I'm taking full charge of the blanket and its distribution."
Icy air stabbed my skin as his hand found an inlet. I gave a squeal, prepared to defend my sole right to the bedclothes. "Edward! Stop! Don't you dare! It's positively freezing!"
"Trust me, I know." He continued to unwrap me, as I in turn struggled to make it more difficult. "I'm beginning to suspect," he cried, "that you, Mrs. Edward Auburn, are a cover thief! And there's only one proper punishment for thieves!"
I could scarcely breathe from laughing but still managed to keep myself enveloped by twisting every time he got the advantage. "And what ... is that?"
He stopped wresting, triumph filling his eyes. "A thorough dunking in the horse trough."
I gave a gasp of horror as he hefted me up in the blanket and tossed me over his shoulder.
For a startled second, all I could see was my hair cascading toward the floor, where I feared it might be long enough to mingle with the crushed leaves and clods of dirt. When he started toward the chapel, however, I tried to kick free. "You wouldn't!"
"Oh, wouldn't I?"
"I'll scream," I threatened as he headed straight down the center aisle of the sanctuary.
Edward laughed, ready to answer, but then he stiffened, turned, and rushed back.
Twisting, I did my best to rise up far enough to see what had alarmed him.
Outdoors, Henry sat upon his steed. Frowning, he squinted at the row of arched windows. Though it was too dark for Henry to see inside, I had little doubt he'd heard our commotion and was debating his best course of action.
"Henry," I shouted with all my might, knowing Edward's predicament was far worse than mine, for he hadn't a stitch on, whereas I wore the blanket. "Help! Come and stop your brother from committing an evil crime!"
"Oh, you're in trouble now," Edward promised, doubling his pace as he slunk back to our chamber.
I was still laughing as he dumped me on the straw mattress and then crouched to find his trousers. The floorboards creaked as he shoved one foot through them and then the other. "Don't think I'm going to forget that!" He grinned as he pulled the shirt over his head and shoved fistfuls of it into his trousers.
My stomach ached as it hadn't in years. "That's what you get for threatening your wife."
He chuckled as he hastened back out into the sanctuary. Henry must have dismounted while Edward dressed, for in less than a minute, the brothers' voices filled the chapel.
I lay catching my breath, unable to believe that the day our foursome had dreamed about for so long was finally here. A few hours hence, Elizabeth would become my sister. After their wedding, nothing could ever separate the four of us again.
The thought gave wings to my feet. I wanted to be dressed to begin the day.
Though it was May, cold streamed up through the wooden floorboards as I planted my feet and stood. I viewed the clothing we'd carelessly discarded last night. It was impossible not to smile as I recalled our ardor, the frantic kisses, the manner in which we'd clung to each other after months of separation, and how we'd finally gone to sleep entwined together.
Henry's voice crested, recalling me to task.
I scooped up the quilted muslin underdress, slid it over my head, added drawers, then turned to my stay. With dismay I gathered the broken pieces. The previous evening as Edward undressed me layer by layer, he'd fought so much with the cording that he eventually just pulled it completely out. One aglet had snapped off the end.
I fingered the frayed cording, wondering if I could dip it in wax and fashion it to fit through the tiny ivory eyelets. I frowned, knowing that even if I managed, I'd still have to estimate how much cording to pull through the first two eyeholes. Tightening a stay by oneself was frustrating, but to start it with uneven lacing was nigh impossible.
"I'm leaving, Juls," Henry's voice carried from the sanctuary behind me. "Will you be all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine!" I called over my shoulder. "I'll see you at the wedding!"
"Don't let Ed give you any trouble."
My laughter rang through our cramped space, sounding louder than I intended. "Oh, I promise. If anything, I plan to be the handful!"
Henry rewarded me with a hearty laugh before the slap of his boots faded out of hearing.
Edward's bare feet scarcely made a sound as he approached. "We're lucky it was only Henry. Some of the girls are en route and haven't heard the felicitous news yet. He rode out to warn us, just in case."
I grinned at the imagery of Edward's female parishioners finding him frolicking au naturel with the scandalous daughter of William Elliston slung over his shoulder.
"That's humorous?"
"I'm sorry, but yes. Can't you picture their expressions had they walked into the church and seen that?"
Edward must have envisioned it too, for his eyes creased with silent mirth. Then, seeing me struggle with my stay, he wagged his fingers in a request for it.
A flush of embarrassment heightened the color of his cheeks as he realized his mistake, but presently he dimpled. "I'm sorry, Juls. I had no idea what I was doing last night."
I gave him a saucy look, rubbing the chill from my arms. "Well, thank goodness for that. I rather preferred it to finding you experienced."
He chuckled, then glanced at the empty grate. "I should have risen earlier and started the fire for you first, too." He looked at the mangled stay in his hands. "I fear I'm not much good at playing lady's maid."
I looked over the pile of my clothing, imagining how Nancy would have made a point to grumble about our mess, and then I gasped, stunned I hadn't thought of it beforehand.
"Nancy!" I cried. The idea caught like kindling as I clutched Edward's sleeves. I could have danced a jig or spun in circles. "Oh, my word! We've got to hire her! We've got to! With any luck, she can cook too!"
"Nancy!" He shot me a look of surprise before he frowned.
Somehow that wasn't the response I expected. "I need a maid-of-all-work, and she's skilled as an abigail. Besides, if it wasn't for her, I never would have escaped Macy that night. Oh, please! We must!"
Edward's eyes were his most expressive feature. His brow furrowed, raising alarm. I pressed my nails into my palms to keep from arguing until he'd at least answered me.
After a long while, he gave a thoughtful nod. "We can certainly offer for her to join us, but she may not wish to leave the comforts of Am Meer. A vicarage is poor placement for a servant." He gave me a look I couldn't quite interpret. "In all honesty, Juls, were it anyone but you, I wouldn't dare to wed, knowing that I'd only be pauperizing my wife. I doubt Nancy will want part in this adventure."
I frowned, disagreeing with his assessment. My outlook was certainly happier. I envisioned Nancy teaching me to cook and launder clothing. Together we could tend the garden and collect eggs. I imagined us chatting while we cleaned house. How could she not want that?
Looking back across years of experience, I am amazed at the fine line Edward walked that morning—joining me in my exuberance while maintaining a deeper knowledge of reality. For in my pipe dream, my hands weren't cracked and bleeding from hard work, nor was I frazzled with one child on hip, another buried in skirt, hindering me as I tried to round up the extra hours necessary to meet the demanding needs of a poor household.
I studied Edward a moment, sensing that our views on the future were dissimilar, though I couldn't pinpoint where. To be frank, it unleashed an emotion I couldn't name. The feeling of loss from my dreams returned and crouched on the edge of my cognizance. I shook my head, desperately needing to distance myself from the sensation. "You're wrong. Of course she'll want to be with us." I picked up my petticoat. "She will. You'll see."
Ed gave a friendly nod, though it was apparent he retained his doubts. "Well, you know her best. But since we're on the topic of servants, I've something too. Henry tells me Father is about to demote Jameson. I want to offer him a place with us."
"Jameson!" Shock rippled through me. Though I'd never met Lord Auburn's valet, we were practically on visiting terms. He was part of our foursome's legacy. The energies that poor man must have expended trying to keep Henry and Edward in line—a task in which no one could have excelled—were unfathomable.
"Your father is demoting him?" I hooked my petticoat as Edward approached with my mended stay. "To what?"
"Second gardener."
I gasped at the insult. "Why?"
Displeasure tinged Edward's features as he stepped behind me. "He's well past age, and Father has no need of a second butler."
"But to make him a groundskeeper, when he's served indoors his whole life!"
"Yes, well, it'd be even less swank to make him a footman. He'd further embarrass Father by having his advanced age seen by company."
I wasn't sure how to take the news, for I still retained my childlike fear of the valet. I glanced over my shoulder. "Can we afford him and Nancy?"
With a look, Edward communicated our dire financial situation as he finished lacing me.
"What about Henry and Elizabeth? Can they take him?"
"Not likely. Father is furious over Henry's refusal to give up Elizabeth. He accepted the marriage on the condition that Henry finally buckle down and help with the estate. They're going to live at the manor, and Father has final say on estate matters, including servants."
Sympathy for Elizabeth swelled as I stooped and retrieved my massive dress from Quill's. My fingers rummaged through the billows, looking for the bodice opening. Though it was one of the simpler gowns my father purchased, still it was voluminous. Eventually, however, I located the slit. "So you wanted to hire Jameson as ...?"
"My own personal valet. He's ... well, he's slipping; his hand quakes occasionally, so some of the duties I'll still do myself." Edward ran his palm over his cheek as if envisioning a sharpened razor in Jameson's hands.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Price of Privilege by JESSICA DOTTA. Copyright © 2015 Jessica Dotta. Excerpted by permission of Tyndale House Publishers.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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