CHAPTER 15 #4
"Of course I did. The moment I learned about your connection to my nephew, I made it my business to discover everything about you, your father's debts that forced you to seek employment, your aunt's death that left you homeless, the scandal at your last position that made you unemployable, your desperate arrival here that just happened to coincide with Gabriel's moment of greatest vulnerability. "
"You believe I planned this? That I somehow orchestrated ending up almost in demise at his door in the middle of a snowstorm?"
"I believe desperate people do desperate things, and a woman with nothing to lose might see a vulnerable, isolated duke as an opportunity too good to pass up."
Gabriel laughed, harsh and bitter. "You think Clara manipulated me?
I practically had to beg her to stay. She's tried to leave multiple times, insisted on maintaining boundaries that have been torture to respect, refused every offer of help that might be construed as improper, and is planning to leave in two weeks despite both of us being in love because she refuses to let me sacrifice anything for her.
If that's manipulation, it's the worst attempt I've ever seen. "
"Or the cleverest," Lord Ashworth suggested. "Making you believe it's your idea, your choice, your sacrifice, when really she's orchestrated the entire situation to make herself indispensable."
"The only thing Clara's orchestrated is making this house livable again and forcing me to eat actual food instead of surviving on brandy and spite," Gabriel said.
"If that's manipulation, then I'll take it over the kind of 'help' you're offering, which seems to consist entirely of trying to sell me your daughter like she's merchant goods. "
"That's insulting…" Lord Ashworth began, but his son interrupted.
"It's accurate, Father, and we all know it. You've been trying to auction Penelope off to the highest bidder since she turned sixteen, and His Grace just happens to be the current target because his title outweighs his scars in your calculation of social advantage."
"Thomas!" Lady Ashworth gasped at her son's betrayal.
"What? Are we supposed to pretend this is about anything other than money and position? At least His Grace is honest about his feelings, which is more than any of you can claim."
“The young generation displays a scandalous lack of seriousness.” Lady Agatha muttered. "No respect for tradition or proper behavior."
"Proper behavior entails forcing people into loveless matrimonies for dynastic advantage? Yes, what a terrible loss that tradition might be," Penelope said sweetly. "I personally can't wait to be wedded off to someone who sees me as a walking dowry rather than a person."
"This is what comes of modern ideas and inappropriate attachments," Lady Agatha said, glaring at Clara as if she were personally responsible for the breakdown of society.
"This is what comes of people finally saying what they actually believe instead of hiding behind empty courtesies," Gabriel corrected.
"And since we're being honest, let me be absolutely clear, I will never wed Miss Ashworth or anyone else you parade before me.
I will wed Clara or no one, and if that means you have me declared incompetent, then so be it.
I'd rather be officially mad and happy than officially sane and miserable. "
"You can't enter into matrimony with her. It's impossible."
"Pray…Observe me do so!"
"Gabriel, the scandal…"
"Will be magnificent. The scarred duke and the housekeeper…they'll write tales about us."
“I beg you, take this matter in all earnestness.”
"No, it's my life, and I'm tired of living it according to your specifications."
Clara felt the room spinning slightly, the weight of the confrontation and the implications of Gabriel's declarations crashing over her. "Gabriel, you can't…"
"I can and I will." He turned to her, taking both her hands in his, apparently oblivious to their audience.
"I know you think you're protecting me by planning to leave, but you're not.
You're condemning us both to a lifetime of regret and what-ifs.
I'd rather face scandal and social ruin with you than acceptance and respectability without you. "
"That's beautiful sentiment, but sentiment doesn't pay bills or protect you from the very real consequences of defying convention," Clara said, though her resolve was weakening under the intensity of his gaze.
"Then we'll face those consequences together."
"Gabriel…"
"No more arguments, no more practical objections, no more sacrificing our happiness for the sake of propriety. I'm asking you, here in front of witnesses who can spread the gossip far and wide, will you become my bride.”
The room erupted in various exclamations of shock, outrage, and in Penelope's case, delighted laughter, but Clara only had eyes for Gabriel, who was looking at her like she held his entire world in her hands.
"You have taken leave of your senses," she whispered.
"Completely. Will you be my wife anyway?"
"Your aunt will destroy you."
“She can try.”
"The scandal will be enormous."
“Splendid! I am resolved to abandon this state of tiresome propriety.”
"Gabriel…"
"Clara, I've spent three years dying slowly in this house, and you brought me back to life. I'm not going to crawl back into my tomb just because society prefers its dukes properly wedded to appropriate women. I love you. You love me. Everything else is just noise."
Before Clara could respond, the door burst open and Edmund appeared, looking unusually serious. "Gabriel, I apologize for the interruption, but there's something you need to know immediately."
"Edmund, we're rather in the middle of…"
“It concerns Clara's father."
Everyone turned to stare at Edmund, but Clara felt her blood run cold. "My father? But he's dead."
Edmund's expression was grim. "That's what everyone was supposed to believe, but I've been doing some investigating at Gabriel's request, and it seems Dr. Whitfield didn't die of fever as was reported.
He was very much alive until three months ago, and he left some rather interesting documents regarding your inheritance. "
"What inheritance?" Clara's voice was barely audible. "We had nothing. That's why I had to seek employment."
"That's what you were told. But according to the documents I've obtained, your maternal grandmother left you a considerable sum that was supposed to come to you upon your matrimony or fifth and twentieth birthday, whichever came first. Your father concealed this from you and attempted to claim the money for himself, but there were legal complications that prevented him from accessing it. "
"That's impossible."
"I have the papers here if you'd like to see them.
Including a letter from your grandmother explaining why she bypassed your father in her will, apparently she didn't trust him to manage money properly, This decision, as it transpired, possessed a degree of foresight, given the notorious state of his finances. "
Clara sank into the nearest chair, her legs suddenly unable to support her. "How much?"
"Thirty five hundred pounds."
The room went completely silent. Even Lady Agatha seemed shocked into speechlessness.
"Thirty five hundred pounds," Clara repeated faintly. "That's..."
"Enough to make you a woman of independent means," Gabriel said, his expression unreadable. "Enough that you don't need my employment or anyone else's."
"Enough to make her a legitimate prospect for matrimony to someone of your station," Edmund added helpfully, though his eyes were on Lady Agatha.
"Money doesn't change breeding," Lady Agatha said, though her voice lacked its earlier conviction.
"No, but it certainly changes circumstances," Gabriel said. "Though it changes nothing for me. I was prepared to wed Clara when she had nothing but the clothes on her back. The fact that she has an inheritance doesn't make me love her more, it merely removes one of your objections."
Clara was still processing the information, her mind reeling. "My father lied to me. Let me believe we were destitute, forced me to seek employment, knowing all along that I had an inheritance waiting."
"It appears so," Edmund said gently. "I'm sorry, Clara. I know this must be a shock."
"A shock?" She laughed, though it had a hysterical edge. "My entire life has been based on a lie. Every choice I made, every humiliation I endured, all because my father wanted to steal money that was rightfully mine."
Gabriel knelt beside her chair, taking her hands. "This doesn't change who you are."
"Doesn't it? I'm not the penniless physician's daughter anymore. I'm... I don't even know what I am."
"You're the woman I love," he said simply. "Whether you have nothing or Thirty five hundred pounds or a hundred thousand. You're still Clara."
"This certainly changes things," Lord Ashworth said, his mercenary mind already calculating. "Thirty five hundred pounds is a respectable dowry."
"It's not a dowry," Clara said sharply, finding her voice again. "It's my money, my inheritance, and no one else has any claim to it."
"Of course, of course," Lord Ashworth backpedaled. "I merely meant that it places you in a different social position."
"It places her exactly where she's always been, above the reach of social climbers and fortune hunters," Gabriel said, rising to his feet.
"And since we're all being so wonderfully honest today, let me add that I shall instruct my solicitors to draw up matrimonial settlements that ensure Clara's inheritance remains entirely under her control, regardless of whether she decides to become my wife or not. "
"That's highly irregular," Lady Agatha protested.
Clara stood, her composure still quite shaky, but her will unbent.
“I find myself in desperate need of a moment's private contemplation, and some fresh air to settle my nerves.”
"Clara…" Gabriel started, but she held up a hand.
"Please. This is too much to process all at once. My father's betrayal, the inheritance, your proposal in front of all these people…I just need a moment to breathe."
She fled the room before anyone could stop her, heading instinctively for the garden, for their rose, for the one thing that had remained constant through all the chaos.