“He has funds,” Clara added quickly. “From an aunt in France. Modest, but enough. He says we could live quietly there. Respectably. Away from scandal. Away from …” She gestured vaguely at the house, the world beyond it.
“Away from rules that were never made for us.”
The words struck deep.
Charlotte searched her friend’s face for doubt.
She found none.
“He would take you?” she asked softly.
Clara nodded. “He swore it.”
Charlotte swallowed. She was happy for her. Truly. Clara deserved warmth. Choice. A life not lived in the margins of someone else’s household.
And yet—
“France is far,” Charlotte said thoughtfully.
Clara’s smile faltered just slightly. “So is safety, if we remain.”
Silence settled between them. Charlotte’s thoughts turned unbidden toward the closed study door.
Liam.
William.
Whatever name he chose to wear.
This was no longer just a social embarrassment or a broken engagement resurfaced in poor taste. It was whispered accusations. Smuggling. Gambling. Her parents’ deaths. Edward’s brother’s name dragged into shadow.
This was her life.
Her family. Her truth.
She lifted her chin.
“What are they planning?” she asked quietly.
Clara hesitated. “Christopher did not say much. Only that things are moving faster than expected.”
“That does not comfort me.”
“No,” Clara admitted.
Charlotte folded her hands together, steadying herself.
“They cannot treat this as solely Edward’s concern,” she said, more to herself than to Clara. “It concerns my parents. My name. My future.”
Clara studied her closely. “You intend to involve yourself.”
“I intend,” Charlotte said slowly, “not to be protected into ignorance.”
Her voice surprised even her.
She had spent so long surviving quietly. Accepting what was handed to her. Adapting. Renaming herself. Fitting into corners.
No longer.
