“You have changed your mind.”
Clara left Alderwick House on the seventh of December.
Julian accompanied her to the carriage.
The morning was bitterly cold.
Frost glittered upon the gravel, and the bare trees stood against a pale winter sky.
Mrs. Porter had already settled inside.
Mr. Pembroke oversaw the loading of the trunks.
Bess stood near the steps, trying unsuccessfully not to cry.
Clara embraced her.
“Write to me.”
“I will, miss.”
“And continue your lessons.”
“Yes, miss.”
“Do not allow Mr. Pembroke to frighten you with his grammar.”
Bess laughed through her tears.
“He says my punctuation is a disgrace.”
“Then improve it until he has nothing left to complain of.”
Mr. Pembroke cleared his throat.
“I should consider that an admirable accomplishment, Miss Langley.”
Clara smiled.
Then turned toward Julian.
He stood beside the carriage, looking more solemn than she had ever seen him.
“Will you write?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“Frequently?”
Clara tilted her head.
“How frequently does Your Grace consider acceptable?”
“Daily.”
She laughed.
“That would be a formidable correspondence.”
“I have survived formidable things.”
“Yes.”
Her smile softened.
“So have I.”
For a moment, they stood close together.
Julian took her gloved hand.
“Clara, there is something I should say.”
She looked up.
He hesitated.
All the fine speeches he had considered seemed suddenly inadequate.
“I do not wish you to feel bound by our understanding.”
Clara's expression changed.
“Julian.”
“The marriage was proposed for reasons that no longer exist. Your fortune must remain yours. Your property is protected. There is no financial necessity for us to proceed.”
She listened.
He continued.
“I shall consider our engagement at an end unless you freely wish otherwise.”
Clara looked at him for a long moment.
“Is that what you wish?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Her heart moved.
Julian drew a breath.
“I wish for something entirely different.”
“What?”
He looked directly into her eyes.
“I wish to know you.”
Clara said nothing.
“I wish to hear what you think when you have no reason to be polite. I wish to argue with you about books and rivers and the proper management of servants. I wish to be contradicted when I am wrong.”
His voice softened.
“And I wish to be the man you trust when you are frightened.”
Clara's eyes shone.
Julian continued.
“But I will not ask you to marry me until you have had time to decide whether you could be happy as my wife.”
For a moment, she could not speak.
Then she smiled.
“Julian Vale.”
“Yes?”
“You are a most inconvenient gentleman.”
He laughed softly.
“So I have been informed.”
She squeezed his hand.
“I shall write.”
“Daily?”
“Perhaps.”