A sigh fled from Clara’s lips. “I’m civil to him ... most of the time. Isn’t that enough?”
“Civility is a lonely lass who smiles at the world as it passes by her window.”
What was so wrong with that prospect? “Civility smiles because she’s content, and more importantly, because she and her household are safe. No one can take advantage of you if you keep the door bolted.”
“True, but no one can take care of you either. Bolted doors are poor judges of character, keeping out friend and foe alike. I don’t want you to forfeit the former for fear of the latter.” Mum cupped soft hands to Clara’s face, preventing avoidance of the insightful blue eyes that too often discerned more than she wished to divulge. “Arthur is not Rupert, you know.”
Clara pulled away from Mum’s touch. She’d asked the family never to mention that cad’s name. “It doesn’t matter who Mr. Arthur is or isn’t. I don’t need companionship from him or any other outsider. I have you and Papa and Grand.”And Granny’s memory.
“Yes, you have us, ducky. But you no longer let yourself lean on us.”
Mr. Arthur’s words rose from the mental grave, the one she’d buried them in atop Westertoren.“I find it odd that you should always stand on your own when you’ve four people and one Godstanding at the ready to lend you support.”
Her throat clogged. Why couldn’t anyone understand? Why couldn’t they see? Leaning on others for support was where all their troubles had begun. Standing on her own was the only way she knew how to bring those troubles to an end. To protect those whom she’d previously endangered through her naïveté. She just wanted to be a good daughter, a good granddaughter. If she wasn’t capable of that much ... if her might and main weren’t sufficient...
Dressed.
She needed to get dressed.
Once she was properly attired, they could leave this suffocating room and conversation behind. Fleeing in a swirl of petticoats, Clara rummaged through the bumblebee-embroidered carpetbag she’d left on the wooden rocker. Spare stockings and chemise. Hairbrush and pins. Where was her traveling dress?
With a gentle clearing of her throat, Mum appeared on her right with the missing bodice and skirt. The ones she’d forgotten she’d hung to air out overnight. She grasped the skirt, but Mum held it fast, refusing to let go. “At some point, you must open the door, ducky. You must allow someone to help shoulder the load you strain to carry when you think no one’s looking.”
And here she thought she’d done a fine job concealing her perpetual state ofoverwhelmed. She must do better. Be stronger. Reassure Mum of her capabilities and prove she could take care of herself and the family that mattered so much more.
Clara snatched the skirt from Mum’s hand and attempted to slip it over her head, but the billowing fabric snagged on a hairpin. Vision obscured by a veil of brown, she struggled to free the skirt without damaging the costly silk. After a great deal of exertion, the skirt fell free to her hips, undamaged. A dash to the looking glass confirmed her coif was also intact.She aimed a smile of victory at Mum’s reflection. “I do well enough on my own, and if I require help, I always have my faith to lean on.”
“Do you, ducky?” Mum crossed her arms, an uncharacteristic heaviness in her tone. “Because it seems to me that God’s on the outside of your bolted door, along with the rest of us.”
Nonsense. Mum might be right about most things, but in this matter, she was way off the mark. Clara put on her bodice, unaided, and once fully dressed, withdrew to a window seat on the other side of the room. Cheek pressed against the windowpane, she waited for Mum to finish her toilette and tried to put their conversation out of her mind by focusing on the lovely sunrise.
Pastel shades of pink, lavender, and yellow swirled across the horizon and tinted clusters of fluffy clouds, which glided on the gentle current of a westerly breeze. Like dandelion seeds scattered by a heartfelt wish, one cluster of clouds suddenly burst, and from the fragments of fluff emerged a glimmer of light.
A massive creature with outstretched wings that reflected the sun.
Awestruck, Clara rose to her knees on the bench and pressed a palm against the glass pane separating her from the sky. Grand?
She blinked, but the owl machine didn’t vanish. It soared high and majestic amid a watercolor sunrise that transformed its brass body into a glittering, opalescent gem. Her chest swelled. Surely, the flights she and Grand had taken under cover of night couldn’t compare to the wonder of this. What must it feel like up there, flying with fearless unabandon in the light of day?
Was he close enough to heaven to hear Granny laugh?
Clara’s heart ached with longing. Watching the world pass by her window had never felt so lonely.Wait for me, Grand.I’m coming.Dashing across the room, she leapt over a stray carpetbag and nearly slammed into the door.
“Great grasshoppers! Where are you going, ducky?”
“To flag down Grand. The owl’s flying this way!”
Unlocking the door, Clara turned the knob and pulled, but the door pulled back. The bolt hadn’t fully retracted. She tried the lock again, but the door held fast. No, no, no. It couldn’t be stuck. Not now. She glanced over her shoulder at the window.Please don’t leave me, Grand.
“Ducky, let me—”
Clara turned the lock back and forth, back and forth, willing the rusty bolt to move. The blasted door to open. With every precious second wasted, her heart rate increased until her frantic pulse whooshed in her ears. Finally, she felt the bolt give with a clank. She swung the door open and ran down the hallway.Please don’t be gone.
She bounded down two flights of stairs and sprinted past the desk on the inn’s main floor. Bursting through the front door, Clara joined the group of people gathered on the cobbled street. Excited voices chattered in Czech, and outstretched hands pointed toward the heavens. Her gaze followed the direction of interest just in time to catch a glint of metallic tail feathers swiftly shrinking in the distance. Her heart faltered. She was too late.
The owl had winged away, once again, without her by Grand’s side.
Once you arrive in Prague, follow a saintly pathway of stone to a wizenedtown, and you shall find my next clue where the Jesuits watch over great treasures of mind and eye.
