CHAPTER 13

Clara lingered on the edges of the gathering as Lady Fitzhugh organized some garden games for the guests. Since Clara came with Elliot and she had not been an invited guest, she was not sure if she would be needed to play.

But that did not matter. She was not concerned with playing. Not when her eyes were practically following Christopher around the garden. Clara was not even sure if she was being obvious with her staring, but she could not help herself. It was as if there was a magnetic pull that she simply could not ignore no matter how hard she tried.

Seeing him over tea, struggling to converse with Miss Henrietta Devereux reminded Clara of how she felt around Simon. With nothing to talk about, nothing in common, it was challenging to feel anything like a spark. It was hard to get excited about the prospect of marrying that person.

Seeing Christopher in that manner and knowing now that he really did need to get away from his mother’s desires only made her more determined to pull this ruse off. They needed this, both of them did equally. They had to save one another.

Battledore and shuttlecock sets were brought out on to the lawn and the games were organized. Several ladies moved towards the games eagerly, fanning themselves in anticipation, excited to move on to the next part of the day. Clara could not help but notice that Henrietta was one of them.

But Clara was still not keen to make a move. Especially when she locked eyes with Christopher, and he made a move towards her. Her breath caught in her throat as the excitement built within her. This was what she had been looking forward to, ever since her cousin asked her to attend the party with him. She had been so desperately hoping that they could talk.

“Good afternoon, Lady Belmont,” Christopher started in a voice that sounded a little over the top in its politeness. “I hope you are enjoying my mother’s party. Since this is your first time at the estate, it would be remiss of me not to give you a tour. So, would you do me the honour of allowing me to take you around the rose gardens.”

Clara gasped excitedly. She was surprised, but endlessly pleased that they might actually be given a chance to talk properly, alone, without watchful eyes burning in to them.

“Of course. I would very much like to see the rose gardens. Thank you.”

Christopher offered his arm. For a second, Clara stared at him in sheer surprise. Were they really about to take their ruse up to another level by touching in public? She could almost feel her eyes sparkling as she slid her arm through his.

She had never touched a man like this before, so she did not know if her heart was hammering simply because of that. Yet Clara had a feeling it was because of him.

Clara smiled to herself as Christopher led her away from the party and down the garden path. Of course Ruth had to follow them, to chaperone them, but she was out of ear shot which Clara truly appreciated.

The sun bathed the path in a warm glow, which matched the heat spreading through Clara’s body as they meandered down the winding paths. The air was filled with the delicate fragrance of blooming roses, each variety vying for attention with its unique scent and color. Clara was captivated, impressed by the gardens.

“I love this rose,” Clara declared as she ran her fingers along a lighter pink rose, with a particularly fragrant bloom. “It is a very sweet looking rose.”

“A Celestial Blush.” Clara was shocked at Christopher’s knowledge. “That rose is one of my favourites as well. I think it stands out subtly, which I enjoy. I have painted these roses many times, trying to capture them to get them right, but I have never been quite satisfied.”

“Oh really?” It was interesting to hear that Christopher’s art work was not always perfect. Clara had built his work up a lot in her mind, so this made him more human to her.

“Oh yes. It is one of my endless frustrations. Just like this statue.” He drew her attention to some of the art work soaring through the gardens. “I spent a lot of time trying to paint this at one point. It became an obsession, but I could never quite get it right.”

Clara laughed, feeling lighter than air. “I have just been experimenting with portraiture. I have been trying to paint my dear friend, Lady Chambers, but it is not easy. I would love to capture her beauty and her personality too. I want her essence to shine free, but I am finding it hard to really get there.”

Christopher smiled understandingly. “Oh yes, there are many obstacles we must over come for our art work to be perfect for our very worst critics… ourselves. But if we do not work hard to achieve that, then who will capture the beauty of the world? That is entirely up to us.”

Clara turned to face him head on. “You know, I have never thought of it in that manner. My art work has always been treated as a silly little hobby that no one will ever take seriously. But you are right. If we do not capture the beauty of the world, then who will?”

Christopher’s eyes glazed over for a moment, allowing Clara to see how much he truly understood her. Maybe not everyone had been supportive of his art work too.

“I would love to see some of your paintings one day,” Clara braved. Since he had requested to see her paintings, it only seemed fair that she ask for the same. “I am very intrigued to examine your style and works, and to see how Europe inspired you.”

“I would like that, Lady Belmont. I would like that very much.”

Eventually they halted their walk, and Clara found herself staring at a vision that she knew she would remember for a long time to come. Nestled amidst a lush tapestry of vibrant blooms and gracefully manicured greenery, an elegant fountain stood as a timeless center piece in the heart of the gardens. Carved from smooth marble, the fountain’s intricate details unfolded like a symphony of craftsmanship.

At its core, a majestic figure, sculpted in classical style a little like the previous statue they had looked at, held aloft a delicate bowl from which a gentle cascade of water flowed. The figure, frozen in eternal grace, embodied a sense of serenity and beauty. Every contour of the sculpture was meticulously crafted, capturing the fluidity of draped fabric and the ethereal poise of the mythical being.

The water, crystal clear and glistening in the dappled sunlight, descended with a melodious murmur. It danced and sparkled as it descended through tiers adorned with delicate bas-reliefs depicting scenes of nature and mythology. Each tier of the fountain told a story, a tale of timeless elegance and artistic ingenuity.

Surrounding the base of the fountain, a mosaic of cobalt and ivory tiles created an exquisite pattern, reminiscent of a star lit night sky. As the water gently pooled at the base, koi fish, intricately sculpted from bronze, gracefully navigated the tranquil depths, their forms adding a touch of life to the artistic tableau.

“Oh my goodness,” Clara gasped. “This is absolutely lovely.”

Christopher’s expression grew wistful as he nodded. “I have always adored this fountain too. As a boy, I would often toss coins into the water and make wishes.”

Clara smiled, trying to picture the scene of a young boy wishing here for his dreams to come true. She had never been lucky enough to have such a fountain for herself.

“That is lovely. I would have been here every single day making wishes.”

Christopher chuckled at her joke as he reached into his pocket to pull out a shilling. He took her gloved hand in his and placed the coin into her hands. Clara could not help but notice how his fingers lingered for a moment too long, sending little sparks up her arm.

“There. You can make a wish now. I hope the fountain is good to you.”

Clara slid her eyes closed, feeling the intense hammering of her own heart. She was being given the opportunity to wish for whatever she wanted, but in the heat of this moment there truly was only one thing that she wanted. One thing that she needed.

I wish for this fake courtship to become something more. Something real.

She was so grateful that Christopher could not read her mind. She did not want him to know what she was wishing for as she let the shilling fly into the air and tumble into the water with a plop, causing a giant smile to spread across her face.

“I would ask what you wished for,” Christopher said. “But of course wishes must be kept a secret or they will never come true.”

“Is that right?” Clara was so grateful for this. She was not sure what she would have come up with on the spot. She did not know how she would have explained her wish away. “Then I will make sure that I never tell a soul.”

Their eyes locked in, and for a moment Clara felt like she did not need to say a word. She was quite sure that Christopher knew exactly what she had wished for, and a part of her thought that he might have made the same wish.

If only… she thought desperately to herself. If only they were allowed to court normally, and to see if there was anything real that could truly bloom between them.

In this moment, with the rest of the world simply melting away into nothingness, leaving Clara feeling like they were the only two people in the world, it seemed like anything was possible. Like if they remained where they were for much longer then temptation might get the better of them, and they could kiss right here by this beautiful fountain…

All of a sudden, Christopher coughed awkwardly and stepped backwards, shattering the magic of the moment. He seemed to realize that they might be taking things too far just at the same time as her.

Much as it was disappointing because she had been truly loving holding his eyes, Clara acknowledged that it was probably for the best. She had a reputation to protect after all, and they were not alone, even if it felt like it for a moment. Ruth was chaperoning them, so they had to be careful.

“Maybe we should get back to the party,” Christopher announced, but he did not sound like he wanted to either. “I am sure that my mother shall be looking for me soon.”

“Yes,” Clara agreed as she swallowed hard. She was not sure how she would keep her composure in public now, but she was going to have to try. “You are right. We should.”

As they made their way back towards the other guests, Christopher thanked her. “I appreciate you allowing me to give you a tour of the gardens, Lady Belmont. It was a delightful stroll and an even better conversation.”

“Maybe you do not always need to be so formal. You can call me Clara if you wish.”

That might have been a little bold, but Christopher looked like he appreciated it. “Then I would also love for you to call me Christopher. I would prefer the less formal titles.”

Clara could hardly contain herself. This was truly very thrilling. Never had Simon once mentioned that she did not need to use his full title, and she had never asked. It was not something that she was concerned with at all. But with Christopher, everything was different.

But all that warmth and joy simply melted away the moment the crowds noticed them returning. Or two people in particular anyway. Miss Henrietta Devereux and Lady Leonora Fitzhugh did not miss a chance to shoot their cold glares.

Even as Christopher went back to mingling with the other guests at the party, and Elliot drew Clara in to a game of battledore, she could feel the iciness of their dislike of her.

She knew that there would be obstacles to overcome with this ruse, and of course that it was risky, but this was a stark reminder that she would have to tread very carefully so as not to raise suspicions before she was fully ready to manage the potential consequences among proper society. Keeping her reputation intact was very important.

But every time she started to allow the coldness of their reception to get to her, she caught Christopher’s eyes once more, and she was reminded of his warmth and sweetness. Getting to know him was wonderful, and she ached to know more.

The desires blooming within her were hard to manage, especially when she knew where it was headed, but it was still very thrilling to learn everything that she could about him. His perspectives on art and the struggles that he had faced as well while painting had truly inspired her.

She could not wait to get home and back to her art room. To get back to the portrait of Imogen that she was worried was not good enough. Now she felt like she could get back to it, and to really make the best of it.

She really did want it to be perfect, and not just for herself, but for her best friend. Also for the moment Christopher finally came to see her work, because she was more sure than ever he would at some point. He seemed just as interested in her work as she was in his.

Perhaps she would paint what she could remember of the fountain, showing how she felt as she tossed the shilling into the water to make her wish. That might have just been a small moment of her life, but she knew that she would remember it for the rest of her life.