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Clara had never known such acceptance. She gave a short laugh with a shake of her head. “I fear most of Society would shun me and a scandal would break out if they ever discovered I’d fallen so low.”

“Which is precisely why you need women like me on your side,” she said succinctly. “Now, I must be off before I am so very late that I miss dinner. But we may speak more tonight on the matter, if you so wish it.”

Clara smiled, nodding at once before they parted ways. Once Miss Sterling left, however, Clara nearly burst into tears—not only due to Miss Sterling’s kindness and Miss Bowles’s cruelty.

But also because she needed to find Margaret and ask the poor lady’s maid what else she had learned about Mr. Cole falling for someone else at the house party.

And if that someone else just so happened to be a maid.

Twenty-Four

The following afternoon, after the guests had finished ice skating, Clara headed downstairs to gather new linens to be brought up to the cupboard on the first floor when she heard Harriet and John arguing in the kitchens.

“I’m certain I counted correctly,” Harriet was saying, wiping a soiled handkerchief to her nose before blowing into it.

“Surely not, as we’ve only fourteen here, and we need fifteen,” John countered.

Clara peered over her stack of bedsheets at the pile of wooden ice skates on the floor between the housemaid and footman.

“Well, you have to return to discover where the last pair got to,” Harriet said, her voice nasally. “If I stay out of doors a minute longer, my cold shall worsen, and Mrs. Wintle can’t afford another maid to be indisposed.”

“I do not have the time to retrieve the missing skates,” John argued. “Mr. Hurst is already expecting me in the drawing room for her ladyship.”

“Well, I cannot risk⁠—”

“Excuse me,” Clara said, drawing closer. “Why do I not see if I can retrieve them?”

They stared at her, as if both thinking why they hadn’t considered this long ago.

“I am not nursing a cold,” Clara continued, “and I certainly don’t need to serve her ladyship in the drawing room. Harriet, if you could but move these to the first floor and see to the fire in the dining room...”

Harriet was already taking the sheets from Clara before she’d finished. “Clara, what would we do without you?”

“Be free from work for a day?” she teased.

Harriet and John both smiled, though neither lingered. Clara didn’t waste a moment either to bundle up before heading out of doors.

She didn’t mind this task in the slightest. Once again, it had been days since she’d been out of doors, and since she had somehow not caught the light cold sneaking around the servants, she was more than happy to help Harriet.

What made Clara even happier was the chance to step her boots into the foot-deep snow. A pathway had been pressed down by the servants earlier for the guests to not have to trek through such great depths, but Clara couldn’t remember the last time it had snowed so much, so she side-stepped the pathway and reveled in each crunching step and each sparkling flake upon the vast grounds of Bellthorne.

The fully-frozen pond was at the back and far side of the property, pressed up against thick trees on one side and open fields on the other. Clara hadn’t ventured this far across the grounds as of yet, and she found herself smiling at the freedom she felt in that moment.

Of course it was short-lived when she drew closer to the pond and discovered she wasn’t going to be as alone as she’d hoped.

Sitting on a fallen log at the edge of the far bank was a gentleman, his head ducked low as he stared at the ground before him.

What was he doing out here on his own? Did he simply not get enough of the skating before? Better yet, who was he?

But as she approached, her eyesight cleared, and she recognized his broad shoulders and dark, windswept hair at once.

Mr. Cole. Oliver.

It had been days since she’d spoken with him, so seeing him now—alone and ripe for the plucking—felt like a godsend for her performing this service for Harriet and John.

A godsend she would gladly accept.

She slowed her steps if only to gather her wits, smoothing back her hair into her warm bonnet and ensuring her pelisse buttons were secured before finally coming upon him.