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“Sometimes I imagine stealing away to the country, taking up with a strapping blacksmith. One who doesn’t know anything about me, or what I’ve done. But it’s difficult to imagine reduced circumstances, living below my current means, or, more importantly, obeying a man. Even if it isn’t someone like Ned.”
“You have a rare freedom, as you aimed for, Stella. You earn your own living and live well on your own. No other woman I know has accomplished that feat.”
“Yes, but romantic it is not.” Her eyes looked ancient. “You feel ashamed, at times anyway, of your adventure with J.R. Let’s admit, you’re not the same as you were when you began. You set aside the teachings and expectations of everyone around you.You’reexperiencing a freedom of sorts, yet it’s also a stain which may tarnish your reputation. It could come between you and your future husband—all because of a liaison with a single man.”
Stella leaned closer, her expression cold. “I’ve been with countless men. Itisan independence of sorts. But for every measure of freedom, I trade a piece of myself.”
Disregarding where they were, Clara reached across the table and covered her friend’s hand with her own. It was worth the rude behavior to convey to Stella that she wasn’t alone.
When they parted, Clara reminded her that she might not see her on Thursday at Violet House due to the impending visitor. Sure enough, by the time she arrived home from Miss Smith’s, she needed Molly to unearth her old chemises, dresses, and linens.
Over the next week, Clara accepted a few short social calls and took some air during brief constitutionals. She and her brother often attended Sunday services together, but this week, she invited him for dinner instead.
David was in a sour mood, and though he didn’t mention James by name, he complained of the legal process embroiling the disputed property up north.
David had spoken occasionally of James before the day he barged into the library. Though David had not outright described him thusly, she presumed James to be unscrupulous. Her brother was so principled, it made sense that to goad him so, Jameshadto be dishonest or unethical.
Now she understood that it was their similarities that created so much tension, and their shared motivation and talent which brought them head-to-head. Each had a variety of rivals in different industries, but none seemed to provoke the raw antagonism they shared. Despite the aversion, they both showed grudging respect for each other’s feats.
Guilt swirled around Clara from all sides as David complained about Rosemount. He didn’t seem to notice her uncharacteristic quietness and lack of sympathetic responses. She struggled to find words in support of David that didn’t feel like a betrayal to James.
James never spoke of David or their competing interests, respecting the prohibition on the subject, though they often spoke of his other business matters. Surely he had to be as frustrated as David; now she knew that James had held his tongue.
“How vexing not to have a resolution to the conflict over that land,” she managed to say when her brother finished, aiming for a comment that was at once authentic and neutral.
“Sister, I beg your pardon for going on for so long.”
“I am patience everlasting.” She smiled, knowing her brother would feel obliged to disagree.
“There is much in that statement to debate.” He raised an eyebrow, but his eyes were warm. “What’scertain is my great fortune in having you for a sister.”
Quieter, with fragility in her voice, Clara asked, “And I’ll always be your sister, won’t I?”
He angled his head, squinting as he examined her as if in a new light. “What’s amiss, Clara?”
“We’ve made some odd choices, you and I, with your enterprising and my…” She cleared her throat. “I’ve yet to marry.”
He frowned. “Choices? I had no choice inheriting the title when I did, nor the condition of our finances. Just as you had no choice in Violet’s condition.”
“Instead of building funds as you have, you could have married an ugly heiress and filled Anterleigh not just with money, but a brood of ugly children. I could have married a peer a head shorter than I and borne him beautiful, short children, and driven him mad with my incessant prattle.”
David scoffed. “Why did you ask me to reject the offers for you?” He shrugged. “They weren’t the sort of men who suited you. And I can barely manage to drag myself to a ball once a year, let alone subject myself to the marriage mart. The ladies there are children. And I haveyouto blame as well, you know. Having suffered your company, I expect women to have something to say on matters besides the weather.”
She smiled. “Perhaps a widow, then? Or someone who, like me, didn’t marry young?”
David inclined his head, agreeing that perchance he would consider it. “I’m an odd fellow, you know. Difficult to find a lid for this pot.”
“Any lady would be lucky to be your wife.”
“Even if she knew that I bury my nose in figures? That I care more about factory production than boxing, hunting, riding, or other such pursuits?”
“Even so. Or perhaps you ought to marry a girl with no sense to her,” she jested. “She’ll never figure out how you spend your days.”
“I’m not so desperate.” His body quaked dramatically. “Not yet.”
“One day, perhaps.”
“Perhaps. But I don’t mind our oddness, sister. Look at the misery wrought all around us by poor matches. There’s nothing more damaging or disruptive to the spirit or the family.”
