“I do not want your answer right away,” David said when we reached the door, his face darkened by night. “But I would be most pleased to ask for your hand. I am happy to fulfill all your requests, and I think in time we shall become good friends.”
Not knowing how to respond, I cleared my throat awkwardly, swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth.
David continued, “Take a few days, be sure this is what you want, and what you need, then send me word. You and your sister are welcome to join me at any time. My younger brother and his wife have offered their home nearby should you need a place to stay.” David took my hand, hesitating for a moment before kissing my knuckles. His gentle touch felt odd after hearing him so fervently declare that ours would be a friendly companionship, nothing more. Could such a thing be? Would it always feel so awkward, so forced between us?
“Thank you, David,” I said evenly. My hand had never been kissed before, even gloved as it was now, but still I felt nothing. Nothing at all.
I snuck past the drawing room, back up the stairs to my bedchamber. It took me half an hour to wiggle free from my dress alone, but I did not want to speak to a soul, not even Mary. I feared I would either cry or scream for the raging of emotions I felt within me. Some from frustration at having such a terrible fate in life, and others at being unable to choose what I wanted. Did I even have a choice to begin with? No one else had asked for my hand.
I’d just climbed onto the wide window seat when Clara opened the door.
“There you are,” she said, breathless. “Why did you not come back? Everyone was waiting for you. Have you accepted him, then?”
Was it the shadows from outside that darkened Clara’s amber eyes? Or just my imagination?
“He offered, but I have yet to answer,” I said, turning to gaze at the moon high in the night sky.
“You’re sacrificing for me, and I will not have it.”
“I do not have a choice, Clara. I am doing this for us.”
“For us?” She stood above me. “No, thank you. I will not be responsible for your poor decision. Our happiness does not rely on money alone. I refuse to believe that.”
“And what if Sir Ronald chooses Georgiana? What then, Clara?”
She said nothing, but looked away. How could I have foreseen everything falling apart like this? I had to tell her everything. To make her understand why this match with David was necessary, whether I wanted it or not. Clara did not deserve for her world to be torn apart. But we were out of time.
I pressed my palms to my eyes, forcing back the emotion that rose in my throat. My voice came out soft, pained. “Lord Gray is dying. He told me so himself before we left. And the letter I just received from Mr. Jones confirms that Lord Gray will leave us any day. Evelyn was at the concert hall with Trenton, which means our cousin has been summoned. I thought to return, to beg for mercy, for any sort of livelihood, but Mr. Jones informed me that Lord Gray has forbidden it. He wishes to never see us again.”
“What?” Clara’s jaw opened in shock.
I reached out to her. “This arrangement with Mr. Pendleton is the only way I know we will be safe.”
“We will work. Together.” Clara was erratic, disbelieving as she tried to make sense of everything I’d kept secret.
I shook my head. “You do not understand, and I am glad you do not. Clara, one of us must be able to support the other or we will be separated. And I cannot lose you. I won’t.”
“Sir Ronald will offer for me,” Clara said willfully, holding herself in her arms.
“Even if he does, do you honestly think he can support the both of us?” The question stung, but it needed to be asked.
“It would take some sacrifice, but yes.”
“I do not wish to be sacrificed for either. David will provide a home for me, and it is a path I choose for myself as much as for you. If things do not work out here, he lives more than a day’s travel from them. He is not close friends with Sir Ronald. You need never see them if you wish.”
Clara shook her head, disappointed. “Is there no one else you admire? No one you could make an arrangement with, someone who is not a complete stranger?”
I said his name before thinking, “Mr. Wood.”
Clara sighed. “This is not a time to joke, Amelia. I am in earnest. A connection with the Woods would be worse than servitude.” Her words were tiny needles pricking at my heart.
“Mr. Pendleton asked me to consider carefully his offer and send word when I have come to a decision. I mean to do that tomorrow. And you shall be the first to know.”
Clara let out a small huff, clearly dissatisfied. “Fine.”
“Can you ever forgive me?” I asked. “I only wanted to give you a fortnight here without worry. I’d hoped we’d have more time to plan than this.”
“I forgive you,” she whispered, emotion thickening her voice. “And I am sorry, Amelia. You should not have carried this burden alone. And you should not have to marry a stranger.”
