Chapter 7
"Alice? I must ask you something."
Lord Rutland had come to her. That was the thing she kept turning over --- the determination in his eyes, the way he had moved through the crowd as though nothing else in the room existed.
Hope had surged through her so fiercely she had barely been able to breathe.
But then she had found him at the brandy tray, his eyes glassy with drink and sharp with pain, and that hope had dimmed.
There was still so much anger in him, so much confusion --- and she could not blame him for that.
And yet, he still desired to speak with her.
"Yes?" Alice beamed back at Clara, her eyes bright with happiness. Evidently, the ball was going very well for her. "What is it?"
"I need you to come with me to The Theatre Bookshop tomorrow," Clara said, tugging Alice away from the crowd that she had been a part of, wanting to speak quietly so that she could not be overheard.
Alice's brother and her own brother were standing there also and the last thing she wanted was for Tyrone to hear her speak of Lord Rutland.
"Listen to me for a moment if you would. "
As she glanced back at the group they had left, she caught sight of Tyrone standing rigid beside Alice's brother, his chin lifted and his gaze sweeping the ballroom with that particular watchfulness that had become so much a part of him since their father's death.
Clara remembered, with a sudden ache, the brother who had once laughed easily --- who had carried her through the apple orchard at Thornfield and made up silly rhymes to amuse her at supper.
That David had disappeared so gradually she could not name the moment of his going.
Somewhere between inheriting the title and shouldering all its expectations, he had hardened into someone she barely recognized.
The warmth had retreated behind a wall of duty and propriety so thick that even their mother could not breach it.
She turned away. Whatever had changed in David, it did not excuse what he had done to her and to Lord Rutland. But it did, perhaps, explain something of the fear she sometimes saw behind his authority --- the fear of a man holding too tightly to something because he was terrified of losing it.
Alice, perhaps seeing that Clara's tone was one of seriousness, let her smile fade as she nodded. "Of course."
"You recall the sadness that was in me before?
" Clara asked, as a frown pulled lightly at Alice's brows.
"I dismissed it as foolishness but that is because I did not want to be honest with you.
" She took in a shaky breath, closing her eyes for a moment so she could gather herself.
"Alice, I was in love with Lord Rutland and he with me. "
Alice's eyes widened but she did not exclaim as Clara had feared she might.
Instead, something shifted in her expression --- a dawning recognition, as though pieces she had been turning over in her mind were finally falling into their proper places.
"That is why you wept at the ball," she said, quietly.
"And why Lord Worthington looked at you so strangely in the park. "
Clara stared at her cousin, astonished. "You --- you connected those things?"
"I did not know what to make of them at the time," Alice admitted, "but I knew they were connected to something. I could feel it." She squeezed Clara's hand. "Tell me everything."
"We were going to become engaged after Christmas time," Clara continued, darting a glance at her brother, relieved that he was not looking at her. "However, my mother came to me one afternoon and informed me that I had to write a letter to Lord Rutland to end our connection."
Alice's eyebrows lifted. "Why?"
"My brother insisted upon it."
Her cousin blinked, then frowned. "And why did he do that?"
Clara spread out her hands, her eyes damp with unshed tears. "I do not know. He would not tell me."
"And... and you simply accepted that?"
The question made Clara frown. "I had no choice, Alice.
I have begged and pleaded and even refused at one point to write such a letter but in the end, it was demanded of me.
" She recalled the moment she had put her hands to her hips and declared to her brother that she absolutely would not write such a letter.
.. and how quickly he had responded in turn.
The threats he had poured out against her had made even their mother weep but Clara had seen the determination in his eyes.
She had believed that every single word that came from his mouth would be done to her if she did not do as he demanded.
And so, she had written those awful words and brought everything to a close.
"Why did your brother not write himself?"
Clara opened her mouth and then closed it again, her frown tugging deeper. "I --- I do not know. I have never thought to ask."
"He made you write it so that Lord Rutland would lose all hope of you ever returning to him, mayhap," Alice suggested, cocking her head.
"He clearly did not want there to be a connection.
If he had written to Lord Rutland, then the gentleman would have trusted that you still loved him and might have come to pursue you regardless. "
This was more insight than Clara had ever gained in the last few months and it shamed her a little, for she had kept a journal of every inconsistency, every evasion, every strange reaction from her brother these past weeks --- and yet she had never once asked herself this most basic question.
"I have been writing things down," she confessed, quietly.
"The way David behaves, the things he will not explain, the moments when he flinches at certain names.
I have it all recorded in a journal I keep hidden.
But I have never put the pieces together as you have just done. "
Alice's expression sharpened with interest. "You have been keeping a record?"
"I did not know what else to do. I felt so helpless --- at least writing it down gave me some sense of..."
"Of control," Alice finished, softly. "Yes, I understand that."
"Might I ask if you love him still?"
A wave of misery crashed over Clara's head. "Of course I do. It has only been a few months of separation but in that time, I have battled against guilt and shame over what I did to him. But my love for him has never waned."
"Nor his."
Clara shook her head sadly. "I cannot say for certain but I would doubt that his love is still as strong as mine, if it is there at all."
"You spoke to him," Alice remembered. "Only a few days ago, was it not?"
"I could not bear it," Clara said, softly. "I could not bear to have him believe that I had done such a thing willingly. I had to tell him the truth --- even though my brother warned me fervently not to do such a thing."
Alice put a hand on Clara's arm. "My dear cousin, this must have been such a great agony for you." Her eyes softened as Clara pushed her tears back. "So what it is now that you need from me? How can I help you?"
Taking a breath, Clara squeezed her cousin's hand. "Lord Rutland and I need a place to talk in private, where we will not be overheard. Might you join me at The Theatre Bookshop tomorrow afternoon? I could persuade my mother to come with us so that my brother does not feel the need to attend."
"Could we not each just take our maids?" Alice asked, as Clara shook her head. "Your brother will not permit it?"
Clara hesitated, then looked away. "I fear that Tyrone will not permit it. He is keeping a close watch on me."
"Which does make the entire situation all the more confusing," her cousin said, slowly. "I am more than happy to attend with you but I must ask, Clara, are you not eager to get to the truth?"
"I --- I have given up trying to find it out," Clara answered, a catch in her voice. "I have begged and pleaded ---"
"But you have not investigated," Alice interrupted, gently.
"You have your journal, your observations --- that is a beginning, not an ending.
Think on this, Clara. If you have love still for Lord Rutland and he has for you --- although I am aware you do not believe there to be --- then is there not a desire within you to find out the truth?
And to find a way to still forge a path together with him despite whatever it is you discover? "
Clara opened her mouth to refuse --- and found she had no reason to. Every objection she reached for dissolved before she could speak it. "I would not know what to do or where to begin."
"Then I will help you." Alice smiled. "And I am sure, if you speak to Lord Rutland and tell him what you know, he might well be willing to assist you also. After all, it sounds to me as if the love forged between you was so strong, it could still prevail, even after all this time."
Clara hesitated, her hopes beginning to rise but at the same time, doubts trying to press them down, trying to steal them away from her.
"I do not know if I can agree, Alice but.
.." Trailing off, she paused, considering.
Then, with a nod, she straightened and smiled, setting aside her worries.
"But you are right. If there is even the smallest hope that I might find a way back to Lord Rutland, then it is worth pursuing.
So yes, I will tell him all and ask for his help to solve the mystery that keeps us apart.
" Her heart trembled within her but Clara clenched her fists to steel her resolve. "Let us pray he agrees."
Her heart was beating so furiously, Clara was quite sure it echoed around the walls of the bookshop.
Lord Rutland had not yet appeared. Each passing minute tightened the knot in her stomach --- perhaps he had decided she was not worth the effort, that the wound she had caused ran too deep for even a conversation to reach.
She stared down at the book in her hands, the cover blurring as tears pressed into her eyes.
"He is come."
The whispered words made Clara start violently, the book falling from her hands and clattering to the floor.
Her face burned with embarrassment as every eye turned to her, with Alice hastily picking up the book and then smiling an apology at the others present, as if to say that she had been the one responsible.
"I just saw him come in," she murmured, as Clara blinked back her tears.
"Go now, to the second floor. I will tell him where you are gone and thereafter, will keep your mother distracted by a hearty conversation on whether or not young ladies ought to read novels.
" She smiled encouragingly as Clara put one hand to her stomach, her nervousness growing like a fire. "Hurry now."
There was no time for Clara to argue. With legs that wobbled under her, she made her way to the staircase and, with only a brief pause, climbed the stairs until she was on the second floor of the bookshop.
One side was open so that she might see all the other patrons present in the shop itself, whilst the other was filled with books of all kinds.
Heedless to them all, she waited for Lord Rutland to appear at the top of the stairs, her heart in her throat, fearful of what sort of reception she might receive from him.
Could it be that there was still love in his heart for her, as Alice had suggested?
And if there was, might he have even the smallest willingness to pursue this mystery to the end?
She could not say, could not imagine what his response might be and yet her heart flooded with hope all the same.
His footsteps on the stairs made her whole body tingle with nervousness, her fingers clasping together in front of her, her lips pressed flat. When he finally appeared, his eyes were sharp, his jaw clenched tightly and not even the smallest hint of happiness in his expression.
Her heart sank.
"Clara." Lord Rutland lifted his chin and folded his arms over his chest. "I believe you owe me an explanation."