Clara came one step closer, but still did not touch him. "If you want people to listen when you say no, then no has to mean something. You cannot demand that they obey you and then punish them for failing to guess the answer you kept to yourself."
"Did you stay so you could lecture me?"
"No. But I have no intention of becoming your nurse."
He watched her for a moment, then turned and continued down the gallery. This time, he walked more slowly.
That afternoon, Clara found the estate steward waiting in the library with a stack of ledgers for Edmund. While discussing winter expenses, he casually mentioned that the little school in South Village would close at the end of the month.
"The Duke agreed to that?"
The steward shifted the ledgers to his other arm. "Lord Edmund felt there was no need to trouble His Grace with such a small matter."
The school had one classroom and served mostly the daughters of tenants and village craftsmen. Three years earlier, Clara and Julian had visited it together. The roof had leaked then. Julian had stood beneath the ladder, studying its wooden frame, and promised to pay for repairs when the war ended.
The roof no longer leaked. Now the classroom itself was about to close.
Clara carried the meeting papers into Julian's study. "They will make the decision tomorrow."
He did not open the folder. "Edmund has managed the estate for a year. He knows its condition."
"Then you agree that the school should close?"
"This has nothing to do with you."
"Quite right." She set the papers on his desk. "So I will leave them here. Whether you sign them is your concern."
The next day, Edmund sat at the head of the meeting table and reviewed the cost of coal, the teacher's salary, and the recent repairs. The stewards nodded one after another. Eleanor agreed that Julian needed quiet; there was no reason to burden him over one small school.
The meeting was nearly over when the sound of a cane striking stone came from the gallery. Julian entered at an unhurried pace.
Edmund rose at once. "There was no need for you to come. I have already settled it."
Julian looked at the documents in front of the chair Edmund had taken. "Who gave you permission to close the school?"
"It is the most sensible economy."
"I asked who gave you permission."
Edmund's hand remained on the back of the chair. Clara pushed the expense records toward Julian.
He read several pages, then asked how many pupils attended, how much coal they used, and whether the roof repairs had been paid in full.
When he had his answers, he struck out the order closing the school. Then he cancelled the hunting supper planned for winter.
"The school stays open. The supper does not."
Eleanor spoke softly. "That was always your favorite gathering."
Julian closed the ledger. "The school roof used to leak as well."
After the meeting, he passed Clara as she gathered the minutes.
"Shall I send these to your study?" she asked.
He paused. "Please."
Within days, news of the broken engagement had spread through the neighboring families.
At a luncheon, Miss Granville sat beside Clara and lowered her voice, though not enough to keep anyone else from hearing: "At least the Duke behaved honorably. You are still young. I am sure you will find a husband who does not need help walking."
Another lady sighed. "No woman should spend her whole life beside a cane."
Clara put down her teacup. "I had no intention of marrying a cane."
Someone at the table failed to hide a laugh.
Miss Granville lifted her cup, the tips of her ears turning pink. "I only meant that your escape may prove a blessing."
"When I agreed to marry Julian three years ago, he was not a duke," Clara said. "Whatever I wanted from him, it seems rather late to begin guessing now."
Julian was waiting for her in the corridor after lunch. "You did not have to defend me."
"I was speaking for myself."
"They were right about one thing. You can still choose another life."
Clara drew on her gloves, one finger at a time. "They are certain I am foolish to stay. You are certain I would be wise to leave. Everyone seems remarkably sure."
Julian looked down at her hands. "What do you want me to do?"
"For a start, stop answering for me."
That evening, Clara noticed a portrait leaning against the wall in the west corridor. It had been taken down and left waiting to be moved.
The man in the painting sat in a chair. Eleanor—so young Clara almost did not recognize her—stood behind her husband with one hand resting on the carved back.
Eleanor came around the corner and stopped at the sight of it. "Who brought that out?" She summoned a servant, her voice sharper than usual. "Take it back to the storeroom."
Clara did not ask why.
Rain began again late that night. As Clara passed the study, she heard something strike the floor inside.
She knocked. "Julian?"
"Go away."
"Do you need help?"
There was a pause beyond the door. "No."
Clara did not go in. She leaned against the opposite wall and waited.
From inside came the sound of tight, uneven breathing. Then the cane hit the floor again.
A long time passed before Julian spoke. "Clara?"
"I am here."