She spoke the words to the room, but I knew they were intended for me. Her lips curled upward, and I swallowed, looking down to my hands, gloved in secondhand rags. I felt as worthless as a grain of sand.
Somewhere deep down, I’d been harboring hope. Dreaming of a place and time where Peter would save me from my circumstances. The vision had become so clear. I’d tasted it in the small moments we’d shared and in the beautiful words he’d spoken.
But money was something I did not have. I could never meet his needs.
“Are you well, Amelia? You look rather pale,” Beatrice said.
“I am well. Perhaps a little tired from these late evenings. Clara, dear, should we retire?” I stood, reminding myself that my focus was on Clara and her future.
She forced a smile, though her eyes were filled with worry over Georgiana’s attempt to dishearten her. “Of course, sister, as you wish.”
When we were safe in our room a few doors down, I locked the door behind us. The room was quiet as Mary had retired for the night.
Leaning against the wood frame, I took three deep breaths. Georgiana was right. Peter would never think of me as anything more than a friend to tease for a fortnight. He came from a wealthy, established family name, and I came from scandal. That he would need a dowry to bolster his estate was not surprising. Sir Ronald, more so. What would they say when they discovered Clara and I had nothing?
For the first time since arriving at Lakeshire Park, I realized fully the impossible nature of our endeavors. Men did not often marry penniless women, even for love. Perhaps Lord Gray had known all along that we would fail this close to the finish line. This entire trip might have all been a joke to him.
Then again, Sir Ronald knew misfortune. And misfortune often led to compassion. He of all people should understand our reasons for staying quiet.
I turned to Clara. “Did you know of Sir Ronald’s debts?”
Clara shook her head. “He has said nothing of debts. Only that he and his family live modestly and do not often travel, which has never bothered me. I’ve never questioned it.”
“Have you told him of Lord Gray? That we likely will get very little, if anything at all, as a dowry?”
“Are you certain Mother and Father accounted for nothing?”
“I am sure. I’ve spoken with the solicitor myself several times.” I groaned inwardly, loosening Clara’s dress as she let down her hair. Why had no one thought of our futures?
Clara sighed. “No, I have not spoken with Sir Ronald. How terribly awkward. To speak of it would assume that he is thinking of a match, and I can make no such assumption yet. But to be honest, if it is true that he is poor, at least he and I have one more thing in common.”
My sweet Clara. I gave her much less credit for handling bad news than she deserved. But if she stood any chance against Georgiana’s dowry, we needed to try a different approach. “Perhaps you should find a moment to tell him. I think it is time he knew our circumstances fully. Then we shall see how he reacts.”
“Very well,” Clara said dejectedly as we dressed in our nightclothes. When our hair was finally in curling papers, we settled into bed. My mind instantly turned to Peter and a crushing pain replaced the glow that had been in my chest. Though nothing had passed between us, I could not shake the feeling that I’d already been rejected by him.
Thank heavens I had Mr. Pendleton. I should have sent my acceptance of him right away. Even if Clara did make a match with Sir Ronald, we’d need another source of security.
What would happen in these next few days? We had less than a week to sway Sir Ronald fully into Clara’s favor and to secure my match with Mr. Pendleton.
I curled into myself. We were running out of time.
Chapter Eighteen
When I descended the staircase the next morning, company was lacking.
“Miss Moore,” Beatrice said with a kind smile, embroidery in hand. “Your sister is out, and the men gone. It appears it is just you and I until the others awake.”
I sat across from her in the drawing room, sighing as I searched out the window. It was a beautiful morning, and I wondered where Clara was, and if she planned to speak to Sir Ronald today.
“How is your morning?” My hands were still compared to hers, so I fingered through a book of architecture on the side table.
“It is well. I am more rested than I thought after our late evening. I suppose the men retired early. I am told Mr. Bratten, Sir Ronald, and Lieutenant Rawles left early with the gamekeeper to set traps this morning.”
“Well, I hope they felt our absence last night,” I said, shooting her a laughing grin, which she returned.
“It is clear they did, as well they should’ve. Have you seen Mr. Wood yet today?” Beatrice broke from her stitching, raising a playful eyebrow at me.
“I have not.” And I was not sure I wanted to.
