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The butler opened the door with a scowl.

“What is the meaning—” He paused, his eyes upon Clara, condemningly.

“We are here to see Mr. Algernon Randall and Mrs. Mary Randall,” Mr. Peddles said.

He was a foot shorter than the butler, but his commanding voice boomed around the cold, quiet air.

“Of course, sir. Come in.”

They were shown into the drawing room, the dark, damp space exactly as Clara remembered it. Her heart raced at the thought of seeing Algernon again, but when he did appear, she was pleased to discover that he looked more frightened than she felt when his eyes fell upon her.

“What can you mean by calling so late?” he asked with his usual, perpetual frown, ignoring Clara.

“I am the late Mr. Hatfield’s solicitor, and we are here to ensure the law is upheld.”

Algernon’s lips thinned, then he finally turned to her. “Clara. I’m surprised to see you alive.”

“Where is my mother?” she stated.

His jaw twitched. “You’re still as bad-mannered as ever.”

He walked toward the hearth, though no fire was present. They could nearly see their breath in the coldness of the room.

“And you are still as close-fisted as ever,” she retorted, which earned another scowl. “Where is she, Algernon?”

He sighed. “Taking her time, as per usual.”

Clara debated whether or not to walk through the house and retrieve Mother herself, but a few moments later, slow footsteps approached, and Mother appeared in the doorway, looking confused, pale, and weak as she hung on the arm of a lower housemaid who appeared just as tired.

“Mother,” Clara said, moving to her side at once.

“Clara? My darling?”

They embraced, and tears streamed shamelessly down her features.

“You are so thin, my dear,” Mother said, holding a shaking hand to Clara’s cheek.

Mother’s skin was frozen.

“Has a doctor seen to you?” Clara asked.

She shook her head in silence, and Clara cast a murderous look at Algernon.

“Come,” Clara said. “Let us leave this place at once. Gentlemen, I trust you will see to Algernon?”

“Gladly,” Mr. Peddles said, his eyes fixed on her stepbrother.

Clara wrapped her arm around Mother, instructed the wide-eyed housemaid to collect Mother’s belongings, then walked away from the room.

“You think you’ve won, don’t you, Clara?” Algernon called after her.

Clara turned around, eying him directly. “I have.”

And with that, she turned around and left Algernon and Cliveley Park behind for good.

“But where are we to go?” Mother asked weakly as she leaned on Clara’s shoulder in the carriage, bundles of blankets atop them both.

“To a new home, Mother. One Father prepared for us.”