Chapter 6
Truth and Fantasy
The following morning, while Clara’s maid styled her hair, a knock sounded on the door of her bedchamber. Usually the abigail would have answered, but she was in the middle of a complicated plait, so instead, Clara called out, “Come in!” The door swung open revealing both Mother and Papa.
Blast. She had not spoken to either of them since her outburst in the study.
While she was no longer hysterically crying about their decision to keep her out of society until she reached twenty-one, she was not pleased about it either.
Of course, after seeing how Amanda’s ‘courting’ had ended, she was starting to appreciate her father’s concern more than she had the day before.
After chatting with Luke, Clara had found Amanda sobbing, alone in the garden.
The stable boy had wisely fled when he realized Miss Fletcher hoped to harm her reputation.
The poor girl had returned home sorrowful, and Mr. Rowley posted the banns.
The wedding would happen in a few weeks.
Papa took a seat on the sofa near the doorway, and Mama came and stood next to Clara.
She did not waste time on greetings. “Your father and I have come to an agreement.” She had her ‘countess’ face on, dignified, regal.
It was a look that seemed to say, “Do not argue. This is what is happening.” It did not instill Clara with hope.
“You must wait until you are twenty-one to enter society.” Before Clara could voice a complaint, she continued, “However, once John finishes university, you may go to London during the Season with him and Papa. You will not be out in society, but you will be able to attend dinner parties and the theater, and-”
Clara’s squeal drowned out the end of the sentence. “Thank you! Thank you!” She pulled her mother into a quick hug before turning to her father. “Thank you, Papa.”
“You are welcome, ClaraBear.” He gave her back a loving pat.
“Will you be going to Town, too?” Clara asked her mother. She knew Lady Merritt had negative opinions about London, but perhaps those had faded with time.
The countess shook her head. “No,” she said curtly. “No, just you, John, and Papa. And Luke, if he wishes.” The woman did not meet her daughter’s gaze. It was odd that only the earl had ever stepped foot into Town, when they lived only a half-day’s journey away.
Clara turned her curious look to her father, hoping he would explain the situation, but Papa simply smiled. “Well, John is waiting for me in the stables,” he remarked as he and Mother slipped back out the door.
“Will you be coming to London with the rest of us?” Clara asked as soon as she had finished telling Luke about her parents' decision. He was pretty sure her retelling of the conversation took twice as long as the conversation itself.
“I hope so.” It was a few years away, so he had not given it much thought yet, but he would have to brave the House of Lords eventually, and it would be far easier with Lord Merritt at his side.
“Do you have a home in London?” she questioned.
“Not yet.” Yet another item on his long list of things to buy.
“Well, I can help you look for one while we are there. You will need it during the Season. Though, I suppose you can live with us for now. But truly, anything in London is a great asset.” She kept talking for a good twenty minutes.
With anyone else, Luke would have tuned out, but something about Clara always piqued his interest. She was so knowledgeable in some areas and so naive in others.
Like his knights, the truths and the fantasies sometimes blended together.
She never lied. No, Clara was a woman of integrity, but when she told a story, half of it was what truly happened and half of it was what she wished had happened, and she never clarified which was which.
The attic was vast, dark, and crammed full of various items. It took a quarter hour before they spotted a suit of armour.
“Well, what do you think?” Clara asked, holding a candle up to the empty soldier. She wore a blue day dress with white lace around its sleeves. Her hair was different today, more plaits and fewer curls.
“It looks fine to me,” Luke said with a shrug. It seemed to be intact. He wasn’t really sure what else mattered.
Clara gave it a thorough examination. “Yes, I agree.” She lifted open the visor. “What shall we name it?”
Luke scoffed. “Must it have a name?” He found naming inanimate objects silly.
Clara ignored his question. “Leopold,” she said without hesitation. “He certainly looks like a Leopold.”
“It looks like a hunk of metal,” Luke mumbled.
“This is my home, so I shall make the introductions,” she took a step back, and turned to Luke. “Lord Maxwell, I would like you to meet-”
“Clara, this is ridiculous!” Naming it was one thing, addressing it was another entirely.
Clara faced the armour again, “I apologize, Leopold, he is not typically this ill-mannered.”
“Stop talking to it!” Luke pressed, but he could not help laughing as he did. The situation was just far too strange. She is crazy, he thought, and I am crazy for enjoying it.
“There you go,” she gestured to the laughing baron, but still spoke to the empty suit. “You see, he is actually quite friendly once you get to know him.”
Luke rolled his eyes. They would be here all day if he did not comply. “Very well. Hurry and finish your introductions. I would like to speak to actual living creatures today.”
“Well, I seriously doubt that,” Clara teased, though she was not wrong. She straightened up to her full height, holding her neck with a ballroom elegance that was sure to crack even the strongest of men. “Lord Maxwell let me introduce Leopold. Leopold, Lord Maxwell.”
Luke bowed deeply. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Leopold.” When he straightened up, he found Clara beaming at him.
Her cheeks were perfectly rosy and her smile flawlessly white.
“Are you pleased now, Lady Clara?” He intended for the question to come out sarcastically, but something about her smile distracted him, and instead, his words rang far too serious.
As if he longed to please her. As if her happiness was his top priority.
As if he desperately wished for her acceptance.
Thankfully, Clara didn’t seem to notice. “Well,” she tipped her head, “I do not believe a lord would actually bow to a knight. A light head dip, perhaps.”
Luke threw his hands up in the air. “That is it! I am leaving!” Thankfully, the sarcasm found its way to the sentence this time.
Clara laughed. “Oh Luke.” She clutched his arm. “Don’t go!”
Her voice was light with laughter, but something inside Luke pounded against a dark corner of his heart.
It’s Clara, he reminded himself, John’s little annoying sister, Clara.
Why, she is practically your sister! But the dark secret poked somewhere deep in his chest, tormenting him with a knowledge he just couldn’t seem to grasp.
He had to get away from her. “Your father is expecting me,” the words came out more sternly than he intended.
Once again, Clara was unaffected. “I doubt he and John are back from their ride yet.” She released his arm. “And we need to find another set.” She gestured to the knight. “I usually see them in pairs.”
While his brain warned him against the danger of spending more time with Lady Clara, his heart yearned for her company. He could not force himself to leave, but instead said in an annoyed tone, “Oh yes, Leopold must have a friend.” Her laughter kept him going. “What shall we call him? Lancelot?”
“Too generic,” Clara replied. “Tell me about some of the knights in your book, perhaps one of their stories will inspire me.”
No one had ever asked him to share about his knowledge of knights, though truth be told, not many people knew about it.
So as they continued their search, Luke shared the stories of King Arthur, Joan of Arc, Godfrey the Crusader, and Richard the Lionheart.
Clara listened intently, asking many questions and showing a genuine interest. He was in the middle of telling the tale of Bertrand the Eagle when they spotted the second set.
Clara examined the suit much like she had the first.
“Well?” Luke asked. “What name have you chosen?”
“Joan.”
“Hmmm,” Luke replied, “so our Leopold has a female companion.”
Clara put her hands on her hips. “Is there something wrong with that?” she asked sassily.
“No,” Luke responded quickly, “I only wanted to ensure it was proper. Will we need a third suit to act as chaperone?” Why are you encouraging her? His brain questioned, but he couldn’t seem to stop.
“Are you questioning the integrity of Joan of Arc?” There was great disbelief in her voice.
“Never,” Luke responded with feeling, “it is that Leopold fellow.”
“Well, perhaps you do not know him like I do!” Clara teased. “Why, I would trust Leopold to guard my reputation if it were just him and I up here in the dark attic.”
And while he knew it was a joke, the comment did not sit well with Luke. “You should not be up here alone with anyone.” The seriousness of his tone was one hundred percent intentional and did not go unnoticed.
Clara looked about the room, her eyes narrowed. “Who is acting as our chaperone, Luke Maxwell?”
Her voice came out barely above a whisper, but it played loudly in Luke’s mind. They were alone, but that wasn’t new; he and Clara were often alone. Like brother and sister, his mind reassured him.
“We do not need a chaperone,” Luke answered. “We are just friends.” But something deep inside laughed, mockingly. It’s true! He tried to persuade his head. It’s true. So why did he feel as if he had told a lie?
Clara nodded. “Precisely, Luke. We are friends. Joan and Leopold are friends. No chaperones necessary.”
“Like brother and sister,” he added.
“Exactly!” Clara smiled. “Now, Brother, we must get you downstairs. We cannot leave Papa waiting.” She placed her hand on his elbow just as she would have with her father or John, and Luke placed his hand on top of hers.
Luke had never held Clara in such a way.
It was formal, yes, but it was also possessive, protective, and respectful.
When a man walked with a woman on his arm, he told the world she was under his watchful care.
Husbands would escort wives. Sons would lead their mothers.
And yes, a brother may guide his sister in such a fashion.
You have forgotten one group, his brain teased, a potential suitor must also escort his lady.
He hated to admit it, but one of those relationships appealed to him far more than the rest.