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“What…what is to become of me now?” she asked as her arms fell helplessly to her sides. “I don’t…am I…?”
The slightest crack formed in the lawyer’s stern façade. “Did His Grace not include that information in his letter…?” he muttered to himself with a small glare crossing his brow.
Then he shook his head and looked Clara in the eye once more. “Until such time as you are wedded, the Duke wished for you to reside at the St. George residence. I am to conduct you there anon, if you are ready.”
Clara blinked. Surely I am misunderstanding this strange gentleman once again…?
“Unless of course, you wish to remain here in the employment of this family, I suppose,” Mr Finch said with rising impatience. “In which case I shall make my departure to inform His Grace, amend the terms of the previous Duke’s will, and proceed—”
“No!” she interjected with a suddenness that surprised her. “I…I would very much like to come to the…to my family’s…er…”
Mr Finch gave a tiny sigh before he straightened and bowed shallowly. “Very good, Miss. As soon as you are ready, then.”
“Why, I’m ready now!” Clara said with a touch more steel in her spine than she felt.
He raised his eyebrow at her once more. “You do not need to have your possessions packed, or bid farewell to your employers? Or,” he harrumphed again as he gave her another quick up-and-down, “perhaps change your clothing?
Clara glanced down. With a rush of red coming to her cheeks, she realized she felt a surge of embarrassment at the maid’s uniform she had worn throughout her last several years of employment.
“Yes. Er, of course,” she mumbled, smoothing her skirt with one hand. “I will…tend to those affairs, then. Quick-like, sir.”
Mr Finch clicked his heels together and gave her another bow, then walked out the door, leaving her alone in the salon.
Clara stood there in the silent room for a moment longer. She knew she needed to make her preparations, or at the very least determine what those preparations might be so she could begin making them. Dimly she was aware of just how little time it would take to change into her only other dress, bid farewell to Sophia and Glenys, and arrange her meagre possessions—assuming she wished to keep them at all, of course—but surely she should take care of it regardless, so as not to keep Mr Finch waiting.
Instead, Clara found she was unable to restrain one last flight of her imagination. Once she stepped out that door, the world would be forever transformed for her.
I awoke this morning to just another day as a maid, she reflected with awe. Now it is scarcely noon, and not only do I have the family I have so desperately wished for all my life, but I may never need to work another day in my life.
A smile came to Clara’s face, the first in what felt like a very long time.
