Similar letters arrived three times a day. They had continued for a week. Only the first one, written upon his return to London, had been more expansive.You fell in love with me, you said. As I have with you. To discard love when we find it is a great sin. Come to me.
Each letter made her want to cry. Each one also lit a tiny flame of uncertainty.
Could she do it? Would love let them separate themselves from the past? Even if that past included his belief that her father had wronged his so severely?
It would mean believing in him more than common sense warranted. More than she had any person, really. Would love let her see deeper than normal or make her blind?
Mrs. Finley announced that Althea was arriving. Clara tucked the letter into her writing desk with the others and removed a stack of banknotes and a bag of coins.
“Do you have it all?” Althea asked as soon as she entered.
“I visited every shop the last two days. Here it is. Three copies remain at Ackermann’s, but he expects them to sell and told me to increase the order to twenty next time.”
Althea opened a sheet of paper at the table, then moved the inkwell over. “Let us proceed, then, so our ladies see the fruits of their labor.”
Althea’s paper listed all the women who had contributed to the last issue ofParnassus, from Lady Farnsworth down to the women who carried the copies to the shops. She read out the amount each should receive, and Clara counted it out.
“Mrs. Galbreath, ten shillings,” Althea read as the last name.
Clara took a five pound note and placed it beside the others. Althea glanced at it, then at Clara. “That is not ten shillings.”
“Indeed it is not. I think it is the correct amount, however. Your list was in error.”
“We agreed to ten shillings almost two years ago.”
“We agreed before it was known if we would sell a single copy. You do more than half the work, Althea. I could not do this without you, let alone contemplate a regular schedule of publication. In fact, I think you should be a partner in the law, not only one in responsibility.”
Althea’s big smile made her glow. “I think so too. Where do we sign?”
Clara laughed until she cried. She wiped her eyes. “Oh, that felt so good. I was beginning to think I would never laugh again.” She took a deep breath. “I will have my solicitor draw up an agreement and we will sign as soon as it is prepared. Now, take that banknote before I decide it would pay for a nice ball gown.”
Althea grabbed the note and stuffed it in her reticule. “If you deliver the money to those who live near here, I will do so with those who live near Mayfair.”
“You will have to be more discreet than I will.”
In Althea’s always organized way, she placed pieces of paper naming each stack, then tied coins into little sacks with the papers inside. She grouped the Mayfair stacks on one side and the east London stacks on the other.
“Now,” she said, “I want to celebrate and do something decadent with my earnings. I think you should come with me to Berkeley Square and indulge in an ice.”
“Mr. Brady can take us, then bring you home before we return here.” Clara went to the reception hall to call Mrs. Finley and tell her to send word down to Mr. Brady.
She and Althea tied on their bonnets. “I am so glad you are joining me on this little debauch,” Althea said. “While we indulge ourselves at Gunter’s, you can explain why you feared you would never laugh again.”
* * *
Clara dipped her spoon into her ice, then savored its cold, rich sweetness. It helped soothe the sadness that came on her when she explained her break with Stratton to Althea.
From their tiny table, she could see the other wares that made Gunter’s famous. Cakes and bisquits and other desserts lined the counter of the confectionary shop. Marzipan could be had too, crafted into artistic tiny sculptures of animals and flowers. A decadent sweet smell permeated the premises.
“Of course if you could not trust his motivations, there was nothing else to do,” Althea said.
“That is what I told myself.”
“It would be horrible for it to go on, only to learn he had deceived you all along.”
“Terrible. Only—he is not one for deception, it seems to me. To say so is unfair.”
“So you do not think you would have discovered that?”
