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Chapter 18
Fundamentally Sincere
It cannot be, Clara told herself, hugging her knees to her chest as she sat in the cold leather library chair.
Idiot girl. Of course it can, came the voice within her. It always has been such, for you. The strong prey upon the weak, the rich take as they like. Why should that change just because the Universe dealt you an accidental good turn one time?
Clara had sat there in that chair since running away from Edward’s study hours before. In that time the sun had swung across the tall, narrow windows of the room, and midday had turned to twilight. A thousand times she had told herself to flee, to run up to her bedchamber and never leave it, to leave the grounds and walk back to the streets where she belonged.
And a thousand and one times she reminded herself why she must stay.
“They are right,” she said aloud, time and again. “They may be utterly hateful, but they are still right.”
It all seemed so comical to her when divorced of any context. Half a year ago she had never heard of Duke St. George. The thought that on the Duke’s behalf she should give up a romance with a good man—a rich, handsome, good-hearted young man, who cared for her as she did for him—would have been laughable.
But now things were different. Like it or not, Christopher was her family. More than that, he was family in need—the lad was just barely beginning to heal from his recent tragedy, and would not suffer further upsets easily. If he would be injured by her growing closer to Edward, then there was no doubt in her mind about the right course of action.
And so she knew what she had to do—and that meant staying in this room, at least for the time being. Until she could do what she needed to. After that…well, time enough to worry about that later.
As she was paralyzed in her thousand and second trip through this endless, miserable morass, she saw Edward step quietly into view from behind the bookshelf. The sight of the despair on his face was nearly enough to send her running into his arms, but Clara held fast.
Do not let this fester, she said to herself to push back a swell of sorrow. He deserves better than that.
“Mr Morton,” she said softly, standing from her chair and smoothing her dress as she tried to ignore the kinks in her legs.
Edward looked back to the door to make sure they were alone, then stepped forward with his arms extended. “Clara,” he said, his mouth opening in terrible temptation.
Setting her stance on the floor, Clara closed her eyes and extended a hand to direct him to stop. “No,” she said, still unable to look at him. “Please, hear what I have to say.”
In her employment as a maid, Clara had long since developed the skill of looking without seeing. She made full use of it now, opening her eyes yet not drinking in any of the pathetic sight before her. With a shuddering breath, she spoke.
“I…” Clara stopped, a lump in her throat preventing any further words.
“What is it, Clara?” Edward asked, his voice wracked with emotion.
He deserves to be told now. Do it, before you lose your resolve, or before you make him suffer the indignity of this cowardice any longer.
“I…think you should know that I have decided I no longer wish to pursue our…friendship,” Clara said, her eyes fixed on an invisible point in the air between them. Unable to bear the dreadful silence that stretched out through the library, she filled it with more words, only half sure of what she was saying.
“You told me that Christopher comes first, and I agreed. Now, as someone who has grown to care for—for this family, I must hold you to that. I will not injure his reputation by my selfish foolishness.”
“What? Clara…I…”
Edward took another step toward her. Now they were but a yard apart, and she could feel the heat from his body sending a quake of indecision through her.
“Don’t, Edward,” Clara murmured. Looking away, she said in a voice that she hoped was full of fierce determination, “I do not wish to see you any longer. Not…not as we have. It has been wonderful, but now it is time for this to end.”
The deepest part of her cried out in anguish as she said these words. She knew now beyond a doubt that love would never come for her again as it had in this library, that she would never again know anyone as good as Edward.
That is why you need to do this, said the voice, sounding weak and far away. For his sake. Edward and Christopher must come before your happiness, you poor girl.
“No.”
She looked up, finally allowing herself to look upon his face. Clara saw tears flowing freely from those dark eyes.
“Don’t, Clara,” Edward whispered, his fingers clenched into fists at his side. He gazed into her eyes with a cavernous loss reflected in his face. “I’ll…we will figure something out. We will find a way to beat them, some way we can continue to be together.”
He stepped still closer to her, close enough that the tears he shed wetted her dress. “I cannot give up on you. You are too important to me. I cannot live without you, Clara.”
