“Do you want me to wait?”
Clara looked at him.
For months she had feared the proposal.
Not because she did not want it.
Because wanting it made motives harder to trust.
Now the money sat in accounts no Harcourt controlled.
Her solicitor answered to her.
Her aunt was provided for separately.
She could refuse Julian and remain secure.
Choice.
That was what the trust had finally purchased.
“No.”
She said softly.
“You may ask.”
Julian took her hand.
No kneeling.
That custom was not universal and he would probably have fallen over furniture anyway.
“Will you marry me?”
Clara looked at him.
“Yes.”
From the hall, something crashed.
Amelia whispered:
“Sorry.”
Clara laughed.
Julian closed his eyes.
“Family dignity.”
“Clearly.”
The engagement became public two days later.
Gossip returned.
Of course.
Some people said Clara had trapped Julian through the trust dispute.
Others said Julian married her to prevent a lawsuit.
One newspaper referred to “a romantic resolution to a delicate fiduciary matter.”
Clara wanted to burn it.
Julian bought six copies.
“Why?”
“To remind us journalists can make accountancy obscene.”
She laughed.
Then the marriage settlement began.
That produced the first major argument of their engagement.
Under English law, marriage could place a woman’s personal property under her husband’s control unless protected by settlement.
Clara’s solicitor proposed trustees to hold most of her fortune for her separate use.
Augusta supported it.
Julian did too.
Then Clara read the draft.
It gave trustees broad discretion over capital.
“No.”
Mr. Gray blinked.
“It is standard.”
“I have had enough men exercise standard discretion over my money.”
Julian covered a smile.
Gray did not.
The document was rewritten.
Clara retained income rights.
Capital required her written consent for certain transactions.
Provisions protected future daughters as well as sons.
Augusta questioned that.
“Why daughters?”
Clara looked toward her.
“Because sons are rarely told their security depends on marrying wisely.”
Augusta nodded.
Fair.
Julian added a clause ensuring any inheritance Clara received later remained within the separate settlement unless she chose otherwise.
She stared.
“You trust me?”
He looked offended.
“With your own money?”
“Yes.”
“That should not require trust.”
The sentence stayed with her.
They married in June 1818.
Not at Harcourt House.
At St. George’s.
Small by aristocratic standards.
Large by Clara’s.
Augusta wore lavender.
Lydia criticized the flowers.
Amelia cried before the ceremony and denied it afterward.
Pritchard attended.
Clara invited him specifically.
Richard Gray signed as witness to settlement documents, not marriage.
“Know your place,” Lydia told him.
Julian laughed.
The white masquerade mask did not appear.
Clara had kept it.
Why, she could not explain.
Not sentiment.
Certainly not romance.
Perhaps evidence.
It remained in a drawer wrapped in tissue.
The ribbon Augusta tore had been replaced.
Clara never wore it again.
Marriage did not transform Augusta and Clara into mother and daughter.
Good.
They argued.
Frequently.
Household staffing.
Charity.
Amelia’s courtship.
Whether children should eat cake before noon.
Clara thought Augusta treated servants too formally.
Augusta thought Clara invited confidence.
Clara thought Augusta spent too much on gowns.
Augusta reminded her the family no longer used trust funds.
That ended the argument.
Mostly.
The most serious conflict came three years later.
Julian wanted to invest in a canal modernization venture.
Clara read the prospectus.