Chapter 27 #2
“Of course. And I can only profess my intention to earn your trust again, no matter how long it takes. The simple fact of the matter, although in truth it is not simple at all, is that I love your daughter. I fear that I have fumbled the opportunity, although I seek an audience with her again to explain myself.”
“And you intend to propose to her?”
Gerald paused. “I do. With your permission, of course.”
Alfred gave a wry smile. “The only permission you need is from Clara. She has always possessed a strong mind. I will abide by whatever decision she makes, although I should warn you that she will not forgive you easily.”
“I will do everything I can to earn it,” Gerald said with an air of humility. He looked directly into Alfred’s eyes. “I want you to understand that I did not enjoy deceiving you, sir, and Clara only did so at my insistence. Please do not punish her for my sins.”
“Clara is beyond reproach. She can do no wrong in my eyes. I know that the fault lies with you,” Alfred said.
Gerald had a sense that Alfred was never going to let him forget it, but it was only right that a protective father like Alfred should feel this way.
Gerald was glad that Alfred had enough respect for Clara to make her own decisions.
He would have been within his rights to bar Gerald from seeing Clara ever again, and ask him to never darken their doorstep.
Gerald wanted to explain himself. He wanted to tell Alfred that all of this started because of his desire to make his sister happy. However, he refrained from doing so. None of that mattered to Alfred. His only concern was Clara.
“May I ask where she is,” Gerald said.
“You should know where she is,” Alfred said enigmatically before he took his leave. There was only one place he could mean.
The orphanage.
Gerald leaped back into the carriage and directed the driver to move as quickly as possible, damn the etiquette of the road. The driver took the instructions to heart. The carriage teetered from side to side as it turned around bends, and it left a few people shaking their fists.
Gerald didn’t care. If there was any damage incurred then he would pay for it. Urgency filled his heart. For every moment that Clara spent hating him, he feared there was a chance that her love might never return, and then he would be bereft.
St. Margaret’s House appeared on the horizon.
Gerald prepared himself to alight from the carriage.
Again he jumped out before it had stopped moving fully, and again he stumbled.
This time he fell forward, having to use his palms to steady himself.
He wiped the dust from his hands and strode inside, calling Clara’s name.
There was no response.
The house was deserted.
He barged into every room. The slamming doors echoed through the house, swiftly followed by Clara’s name, which became ever more desperate.
When he reached the back of the house, he saw Agatha and Theodore sitting on a bench.
They were looking through an album of old drawings, treating them with reverence.
Gerald’s face glistened with sweat, and he was panting heavily.
Agatha looked up with twinkling eyes.
“Gerald, what a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t expecting you,” she said.
“I need to see Clara,” Gerald replied. Agatha chuckled.
“Have you finally realized that not everything can be solved with duty?” she asked.
“Where is she?” Gerald asked, clenching his hands together.
His fists were tight, and he had to refrain from being too demanding.
He was so close now, and while he was willing to chase Clara all across London if necessary, he wanted to see her and spill the contents of his heart before it was too late.
“Oh, she’s nearby, but I want you to look at something before you speak to her,” Agatha said, turning the pages of the album.
Gerald was twitching all over. He rocked back and forth on his heels and looked at Theodore with anguish.
Theodore nodded and gave him a reassuring look, hinting that this was worth the wait.
Gerald hoped this wasn’t one of Agatha’s amusements, for he was not in the mood for it.
Agatha smiled when she found what she had been looking for. It was the original letter Rosemary had written. Agatha turned the album around and showed it to Gerald.
“I thought you might like to remind yourself of what Rosemary wrote to her family,” she said.
Gerald was tempted to push it away and tell her that he didn’t have time for this, but the woman deserved his respect, and he was not about to start being rude to her.
He looked at the letter, thinking about the history of St. Margaret’s and how many people had passed through its doors.
At the end, there was a sentence he had overlooked before.
‘Protect the house, but never forget that the people inside matter more than the walls.’
Gerald nodded as he ran his fingers across the letter, feeling in some way that it connected him with Rosemary. He closed the album and handed it back to Agatha.
“I understand,” he said. He’d been spending far too much time saving St. Margaret’s house and too little time fighting for Clara. This was about her. Not the orphanage, not his duty, not the benefit.
Her.
“Where is she?” Gerald asked. His words sounded like he was begging.
“The greenhouse, with the children,” Agatha said, smiling. Her eyes gave him silent permission and encouragement.
“Godspeed,” Theodore said quietly. As Gerald moved away, he noticed that Theodore took Agatha’s hand, perhaps feeling glad that they had moved past the difficulties of romance and could enjoy the glow of pure love instead.
Gerald wondered if he would get to enjoy such a fate, or if that lay beyond him.