Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
“You are going to need to smile more if society is going to believe we are besotted with each other,” Gerald said.
A day had passed since their last conversation and Hyde Park stretched out behind them.
Winding paths led in all directions, while the pleasant chatter of birds was audible in the air.
Other people were alighting from their carriages, eager to enjoy the temperate air and the refreshing verdant scenery.
Clara turned to him and gave him the coldest smile she could muster. There was nothing but ice in her eyes, which made the expression a dark reflection of its usual nature. Gerald laughed in a carefree manner.
“That suggests you would prefer to be anywhere but here, and I can’t believe that is the case.
Look around you! Why, I dare say there is no better place in the world.
Observe the trees, so lush and ripe in their full season.
Has there ever been anything greener? And the lake, still, like a mirror, until a boat slips across the surface, the oars cutting into the water.
The clouds, fluffy, why, is that the shape of a ship I spy?
And the birds, oh, those wonderful creatures who extend their wings and soar through the air.
I’d wager you are the type to imagine you are a bird, thinking of yourself flying over London, able to settle wherever your whim takes you.
It is a beautiful day, and you would smile like that? Poor, Clara, very poor.”
As Gerald spoke, he thrust out his arms emphatically and gesticulated to everything he referenced.
His voice adopted a humorous, exaggerated tone, and Clara was unable to resist the temptation to laugh.
The forced smile transformed immediately.
It widened, and brightness sparkled in her eyes.
A giggle burst out of her lips, and she folded her arms around her abdomen, holding herself together as she doubled over.
“That’s more like it. It is a sin to be moody on a day such as this. That is the smile I have been hoping to see,” he teased. Clara drew her gaze away, not wanting him to see the effect his words were having on her.
Thankfully, Agatha provided a welcome distraction as she berated the driver for not helping her down from the carriage properly. She dabbed her forehead and then encouraged Gerald and Clara to stride ahead.
“Don’t wait on my account,” Agatha replied. She had volunteered to be the chaperone that Alfred had insisted upon.
They strolled along the path in an amiable manner.
Clara had to admit that the scenery was wonderful.
The monolithic grey landscape was pushed back in this pocket of greenery, the lush grass stretching out as far as the eye could see, framed by rows of trees.
The spires of buildings poked out behind them, breaking the illusion, but it was easy enough to ignore.
They passed by the lake, and then turned onto a long avenue framed by tall trees.
Shadows crisscrossed along the path, while the park stretched on either side of them.
The sound of merry chatter greeted their ears.
Other people were taking walks or having picnics.
Behind her, Clara heard the roll of wheels as a carriage ran around the park.
They approached a group of three young ladies who were standing together holding parasols. Clara noticed the way they stared, their eyes soft when they looked at Gerald, but hard when they turned towards Clara.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” they cooed, smiling in an attempt to get his attention. Gerald smiled politely, but his attention did not waver from Clara. The women scowled as he passed without stopping, and Clara’s heart bloomed with pride.
“You are becoming adept at pretending,” she said.
“Hm?” he asked, then followed her gaze and turned his head to look at the women. “Oh, I hardly noticed they were there. I wanted to ask you about your drawings. How did you first discover your talent?”
“I was with Aunt Charlotte, and she was teaching me and my cousins about flowers. I was getting a little restless from watching them all and so I started drawing. Charlotte noticed and said they were very good. I enjoyed drawing. It gave me some peace. Mother and Father encouraged me as they always did, and I began to draw at every opportunity I had. I was even given lessons with an artist to help my technique.”
“I get the impression that your parents offered you as many opportunities as they could.”
“Do you think me spoiled?” Clara asked, abashed.
“That’s not what I meant to imply,” Gerald said in a conciliatory tone. “It is just good to see parents supporting their children’s interests. I admire them for it.”
“Did yours not do the same?”
“I believe they tried, but it was never for the sake of enjoyment, at least not for me. There was a reason why I needed to do everything. Mathematics so that I would understand accounts, the study of literature so that I would be well-read and able to hold my own in conversation, history so that I might learn from the mistakes of others and ensure that I did not repeat them myself. My first duty has always been to my estate. Everything I was taught and shown had to serve that purpose, otherwise, it was unnecessary.”
“That sounds stifling.”
“In a way, I suppose, but I was still afforded the opportunity to learn about a great many things, and I had to ignore my desire to learn about other things. But that is the way of life, I suppose. We cannot have everything.”
“And what did you have to surrender?”
Gerald afforded himself a smile. “You may not believe this, Miss Sterling, but at one time I was drawn to music. I would have liked to learn the piano, or the violin. However, my father did not think it served a practical purpose. He thought that being a musician was to serve other people. He did not wish for me to become a mere performer when I was supposed to be the one summoning the performances.”
Clara stared at him and laughed again, trying to imagine him as a musician.
Somehow it didn’t quite seem to fit, although her gaze did drop to his hands and she focused on his fingers again.
As she did so, she recalled the way his hand felt against her waist when they were dancing, and the force with which he had pulled her closer.
It was as though a warm breeze flowed through the air, although this intense breeze happened to be contained within her heart.
“What is preventing you from pursuing it now?”
“Everything, I suppose. There are simply not enough hours in the day for me to do everything I would wish. But I have made my peace with it.”
“I understand. There have been many times when I have needed to carve out time for myself. There have always been demands placed upon me.”
“Such as St. Margaret’s?”
“I don’t consider that a demand,” Clara replied, “I am speaking more of my family. I was the eldest of my sisters and cousins, and so I was seen as their leader. I was always trusted to look after them, to observe them, and I’m not quite sure my parents or cousins realized how much they asked of me.
I suppose it is my fault for being born first,” she said with a wry smile.
“You have been good to your family. I’m sure that they have found you dependable.”
“That is kind of you to say. I have tried my best, but there are some moments when I wonder if they only value me because of what I can do for them.”
“I shouldn’t think that would be the case,” Gerald said, as though it were a completely irrational thought that did not deserve further consideration.
However, it lingered in Clara’s mind as it always did.
What would have happened if she refused at any point?
Would her family have cherished her even if she had proven herself unhelpful?
Even now, Gerald was doing the same thing.
She was only here because she could offer something to him.
If she had been married, already courting, or too young, then Gerald wouldn’t have asked this of her at all. He might well have taken his assistance away from St. Margaret’s. The only value she had lay in what she could give to other people, not intrinsically within her.
On their way back through the park, they passed the lake again. Gerald suggested that they take a boat out.
“It will be fun,” he said.
Clara glanced over her shoulder to see Agatha shuffling forward. They waited for her to join. Gerald repeated his idea, and Agatha puffed out her cheeks and shook her head.
“I’m afraid if I get into a boat I shan’t be able to get out again. I could use a respite. I shall sit beside the lake and watch you.” Agatha moved to a nearby bench and sighed with relief. By the time Clara and Gerald had chosen a boat, Agatha was dozing.
Soon enough, he and Clara were stepping into a small rowboat.
The boat shifted beneath her feet, and she had to hold his hand to maintain her balance.
She settled onto the small seat and placed her hands on either side of her to ensure she did not topple over.
Gerald doffed his jacket and folded it, placing it at his feet.
He then took the oars manfully and began to row.
The surroundings were beautiful, especially with the sun dappling the waves.
However, Clara could not look anywhere but at him.
The motion of his chest captivated her, as did the sight of his arms. His biceps swelled, stretching his crisp shirt so tight she thought the seams were going to rip apart, only for the fabric to hold.
She wondered what Lydia would have said about this.
How many romantic scenes in the books she loved had taken place on boats?
She decided to tease him, hoping that it would douse these unwanted feelings.
“I must say, Gerald, you are a compelling suitor and I’m sure that all of London has been fooled. It does make me wonder if there is more truth to your performance than you would like to admit. I hope you have not forgotten our rules.”