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Chapter 2
Introductions
The carriage jostled and jangled down unfamiliar streets. The plush, comfortable seat beneath Clara lurched to and fro wildly, to the point where she was sure she would be thrown out the door onto the cobblestones. Or worse—be ill all over the interior of the carriage.
Keep breathing, girl. Steady your nerves lest you embarrass yourself further.
Trying to moderate her reaction to this most unfamiliar method of travel, Clara found herself watching Mr Finch carefully. His beaver felt hat lay in his lap, hands easily at his sides, and his eyes were closed in a mysterious sleep or repose of some sort.
Clara closed her own eyes, but felt her gorge rise as her dizziness suddenly became much worse. Fluttering her eyes open, she thought to distract herself with conversation.
“Thank you for accompanying me, Mr Finch,” she said quietly. “I appreciate your…help today.”
“Hmm,” Mr Finch replied without opening his eyes.
Clara peered out the window and watched the scenery pass them by. The carriage had passed through the wealthy neighbourhood of the Fitzroys through the sooty, crowded areas that Clara knew first-hand. Soon enough those sights had vanished, replaced by increasingly large and ornate houses with ever-widening grassy spaces between them.
“Do…er, do all these houses have Dukes living in them, sir?” she asked, allowing a hint of wonder to creep back into her voice.
“No.”
Having passed the sack containing her few possessions to the colourfully dressed coachman, the interior of the carriage was empty save for Clara and Mr Finch. And, of course, for the silence that grew larger and more oppressive each time it fell over the pair.
“Oh,” she said at last. This syllable drew no response at all from Mr Finch, as Clara had come to expect.
Though Clara had never owned a watch, by now she guessed they must have been travelling for more than an hour. The last familiar landmark had passed them by some time ago.
By now we must be well out of London, she thought, mystified by the strange, extravagant estates that surrounded them. Or even England itself!
Confounded by the sights out the small carriage window and stymied in her attempts at conversation, Clara fled back into her imagination to distract her from her queasiness.
I wonder what shall happen after we arrive at the Duke’s house? Surely I will be given somewhere to sleep, and hopefully a meal. And then…well…
With an anxious twist in her stomach, Clara found she was entirely unable to begin to imagine what the noble classes spent their time doing. She had spent her short adulthood following them, serving them, and tidying after them, but apart from ordering servants about, she was at a complete loss as to how they passed their days.
“I wonder if my brother and sisters will be glad to see me?”
Mr Finch’s eyelids shot open, revealing his dark brown eyes focused right on Clara.
Did I say that out loud?
His moustache twitched in preparation for a more thorough answer. Or scolding, Clara thought with worry.
“Miss Clara,” the lawyer spoke in a serious tone—by now, Clara had begun to wonder if he had any other tone at all. “I recognize that we have not known one another for very long. However, being an excellent judge of character if I might be allowed to flatter myself, I believe I have deduced what sort of person you are. Do I have your permission to dispense an unsolicited piece of advice?”
Clara nodded limply, a motion facilitated by the rapid back-and-forth jerking of the carriage.
Mr Finch drew in a breath through his teeth, then leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “You appear to be a young woman most learned in the etiquette of the station in which you have been brought up. As near as I am able to determine, you are polite, deferent but not mindless, unobtrusive, and obedient to an appropriate degree. And unless I miss my guess, I suspect you are also a fundamentally sincere individual at heart.”
She found herself blushing at this characterization, being quite unused to praise of any kind. Hesitantly, she managed to say, “Th—thank you, Mr Finch. I—”
“Nearly all of these qualities will serve you very poorly in your new situation,” he interrupted, face stony as ever. “I suggest you expunge them from your character, ideally within the next few minutes before we reach our destination.”
Clara felt her heart sink as Mr Finch continued his grim counsel.
“There is very little place for the illegitimate daughter of a Duke within the circles of English high society. You will by turns need to be polite, deferent, obedient, and unobtrusive, yes, but at very different moments than you were expected to during your time as a servant, and to different degrees and toward different people than before. What’s worse, the mistakes you will assuredly make will be seized upon by your enemies at every opportunity.”
“Enemies?” Clara asked in a shocked voice. “What…who would be my enemy? I have not even met anyone of this circle you are talking about. What cause have I given anyone to bear ill will toward me?”
