He believed that because of her, David had ceased to be paramount to either of them which was not true at all. David was everything to her. How could he think such a thing? How could he say it?
She shook her head. She stumbled to the stairs and sat down hard on the first step, her head bowed between her knees. Julian blamed her. These last days had felt like nothing but a nightmare, and even the moments of warmth between them had apparently been nothing but a comfort she had imagined for herself, something that had never been real at all.
She could not stay here. Not another minute.
She hurried upstairs, fetched her pelisse and her walking shoes, and came back down and out through the door before she could let herself think too hard about where she meant to go. She only knew she could not be at Lynden House. She stepped out into the cool afternoon air, and the tears came freely, streaming down her face. A stiff breeze blew, sending her pelisse backward. She hardly noticed it.
She had thought after Benjamin that she could not be further humiliated. She had been wrong. Two days ago, he had announced to everyone present that the two of them were truly together. And now, he meant to tell everyone the opposite.
This was all wrong. She would be humiliated again and not only before society. Before her friends. Before his friends. She would never be able to show her face here again. Jilted twice over. Not marriage material, that much would be settled for good. The best she could hope was that Julian would be true to his word and shoulder the blame himself.
If he did that, if he gave her what he had promised, she could start again. Scotland, perhaps. Or Ireland. The continent if it came to that. She could be free. She could become someone else entirely.
But not now. Not while David and Arabella were both still missing. That would be unconscionable.
She would have to do something. Go somewhere. Continue looking for her friend. But where, and how?
“My Lady?”
She looked up. Nell was walking towards her with a basket over her arm. “What in the world are you doing out here?”
“I had to get out. My own thoughts were making me unwell.” She did not want to admit what had brought her to this state.
“I understand, My Lady. But do take care, there is weather coming. Why not come back to the house with me?” Nell pointed, and Clara looked and saw dark clouds gathering low on the horizon.
It would rain soon. But the thought of returning to the house, to Julian, was too much to bear.
“I think I shall walk a little further. I will turn back before the rain comes.”
“Are you quite certain, My Lady?”
“Yes. And if the rain begins before I return, I shall shelter at the posting house. Do not fret.”
Nell did not look entirely convinced, but the two parted ways.
Clara continued walking. She knew there was a posting house between Lynden House and London. It was not so far a distance, and she could manage it easily. If the rain began, she would simply stop somewhere. There would be carriages for hire as well. Perhaps she could hire one to take her north, towards Scotland. She would leave a note for Julian, telling him that she had overheard him and that she knew how he truly felt. He would not fret over her leaving, regardless, but she felt she owed him the note all the same.
She walked on. Occasionally a rider hurried past her on the road, likely a messenger about some urgent business. She had walked perhaps three quarters of an hour before the first drops of rain began to fall on her head. She quickened her pace just as a bolt of lightning cracked across the sky, and she ducked into the inn, instantly surrounded by the close, smoky air of such places. Spilled ale, meat frying somewhere behind the bar, men arguing over a hand of cards in the next room.
She approached the innkeeper. “Pray, do you have carriages for hire?”
The man looked up. “We surely do, Ma’am. But none will be setting off in this weather. Where were you looking to go?”
She hesitated. She wanted to say Scotland, to her aunt, but she was hardly prepared for such a journey, not properly, not without arrangements. “Into London,” she said. She’d go to Helena’s. Helena would help, though she would worry, and Clara had no wish to be found and turned back before she had even decided what she meant to do.
“I see,” the man said. “This weather should pass before too long, and you are welcome to wait here until it does.”
“Thank you. May I trouble you for ink, a quill, and some paper?”
He brought what she asked for, and she settled into a corner with a small ale and began to write.
Julian. By now you will know that I have gone. I overheard you speaking with your friends. I know that you do not love me. I know that all of what passed between us was simply a distraction for you, and it has hurt me more than I know how to say. I love you, genuinely, but I will not make a fool of myself a second time. I will continue searching for those we love, but I cannot continue searching beside you. I genuinely wished that…
She stopped. What exactly was she going to write?
She had thought to go on to London. That much was true. And after that, Scotland, perhaps, though leaving the country with Arabella and David both still missing felt like abandoning them entirely. What good could she truly do for her friend if she left? They had tried nearly everything already. Perhaps if she went to Scotland, she could look for Arabella there. Arabella had loved Edinburgh when she visited. She might have gone there herself.
Clara knew she was making excuses. She knew it perfectly well.
