CHAPTER 18

Seated beside Clara in the private theater box, Christopher tried to immerse himself in the Shakespearean tragedy playing out on the stage. The actors, with their impassioned performances, brought to life the timeless tale of Romeo and Juliet. Yet, despite his best efforts, his gaze was repeatedly drawn to Clara’s lovely profile, bathed in the soft glow of the stage lights.

The delicate curve of her neck, the way her eyes reflected the shifting emotions of the play, and the subtle rise and fall of her chest as the story unfolded — all conspired to divert his attention. The world of Verona seemed to blur, and in its place, Christopher found himself captivated by the real life drama unfolding beside him.

As Romeo and Juliet navigated the complexities of love and tragedy, Christopher could not escape the awareness of Clara’s presence. Her every reaction, every subtle expression, became a scene in itself. A play within the play that he found impossible to ignore.

He recalled the spark he felt when he watched Clara close her eyes and make a secret wish at the fountain in their gardens during his mother’s garden tea party. The memory, like a whispered echo, resonated in the dimly lit theater box.

It was hard to recall this moment when he was also drowning in the words of other people. Elliot’s encouragement, his mother’s disparagement, the anger that came from Clara’s father. Much as he wanted to daydream about the possibility of them becoming something more, there was always something reminding him that could not happen.

Clara, her eyes reflecting the emotional journey of the play, turned to him with a wistful smile. “A powerful performance, would you not agree, Christopher?”

He returned her smile, though an unspoken heaviness hung between them. “Indeed, Clara. Shakespeare has a way of unraveling the complexities of the human heart.”

The lingering strains of the scene in front of them seemed to underscore his thoughts. In this moment, he ached for something more — a love that transcended the societal barriers and whispered promises of what could be. He wished for everything.

Truth be told, Christopher could not ignore the parallels between their story and that of Romeo and Juliet. The societal constraints, the expectations, and the unspoken dangers seemed to conspire against the prospect of a love unfettered.

It was painful to watch. So much so that he almost wanted to leap out of his seat and to leave the theatre behind. Especially because he knew that this whole evening would have terrible consequences. The Devereuxs would tell her mother, and all of them would ensure it.

“The balcony scene is almost as dramatic as Miss Henrietta’s reaction to our presence,” Clara remarked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. The comment alone dragged him from his spiraling thoughts, thank goodness.

Christopher could not help but hide a grin, utterly charmed by her ability to find humor even in the midst of the play’s heavy drama. The weight of the Shakespearean tragedy momentarily lifted as her witty observation brought a breath of fresh air to the private box.

“Well, I must admit, Miss Henrietta does have a flair for the dramatic,” Christopher replied, his own eyes reflecting the amusement that danced between them.

Clara chuckled, the sound like a melody that dispelled the lingering shadows. “One could almost imagine her standing on a balcony, delivering a soliloquy of disapproval.”

Christopher was thoroughly enchanted by her quick wit. The heavy atmosphere that had settled during the play seemed to disperse, replaced by the shared laughter that bridged the complexities of their world.

As the night unfolded beyond the enchanting theater performance, Christopher found himself savoring every moment of their shared company. The private box, once a stage for unspoken tensions and unexplored desires, transformed in to a haven where Clara’s quick mind and kind heart wove an irresistible spell.

But eventually, the night have to come to an end, much to Christopher’s chagrin. The curtain descended, and the theater lights began to brighten, signaling the end of the poignant tragedy that had unfolded on stage.

But he could not get too upset. Not when Clara’s laughter, like a melody that resonated with intelligence, filled the air as they navigated the corridors of the theater. Her humor, a beacon of light, dispelled any lingering shadows that clung to the edges of their shared journey. Christopher marveled at her ability to find joy in the midst of complexity, drawn even further under the spell of her captivating spirit.

As they stepped into the night air, the city beyond the theater gates offered a canvas for new adventures. The glow of gas lamps illuminated their path, casting a warm hue over the cobble stone streets. Christopher’s heart echoed with the enchantment of the evening, a melody that seemed to harmonize with every step taken in Clara’s company.

As Christopher guided Clara towards the waiting carriage, the warmth of her fingers lingered against his, leaving an indelible imprint that resonated through every fiber of his being. The enchanting night had drawn to a close, but the touch of her elegant hand left him wanting so much more.

He held back the urge to linger, a silent longing lingering in his gaze as he reluctantly released her hand. The carriage awaited, its doors open to usher them back to the reality beyond the theater’s glow. Christopher could not deny the magnetic pull, the desire to bridge the distance that decorum demanded.

As Clara stepped into the carriage, the delicate rustle of her gown seemed to echo the unspoken sentiments that hung in the air. Christopher followed suit, taking a seat beside her. The soft glow of the carriage’s interior revealed a mix of emotions in Clara’s eyes — gratitude, amusement, and, perhaps, a trace of the same longing that gripped his own heart.

Ruth, the steadfast chaperone, took her place opposite them, a silent guardian of propriety. The rhythmic clip clop of the horse drawn carriage matched the unease circling through Christopher. He found himself torn between the dictates of societal decorum and the relentless pull of his emotions. He yearned to touch Clara’s hand again.

Judging by the look in her eye, it was what she wanted as well.

“I had a wonderful evening,” she said, breaking the silence. “Thank you so very much for inviting me along with you.”

“You were delightful company.” Christopher smiled. “I do not think a trip to the theater has been quite so pleasant.”

He hoped that she could read between the lines and see what he was really thinking. If Ruth were not beside him, he might have finally been honest about how he was feeling. Seeing Romeo and Juliet had emboldened him in a way. Yes, it was a tragedy, but also a reminder that life was too short.

But he had to be careful about what he said. Just because Clara’s eyes were gleaming at him, did not necessarily mean that she was ready to turn their ruse into something real.

The carriage rolled to a gentle stop outside Clara’s home, the soft glow of street lamps casting a subdued radiance on the cobble stone path. Christopher could not help but feel a mix of emotions swirling within him. He was not yet ready for this night to end.

As he assisted Clara in stepping out of the carriage, their eyes met in a silent exchange that spoke volumes. He just wished that they were allowed to speak aloud.

“Thank you very much, Christopher,” she practically whispered, her hand lingering in his for a moment too long.

“The pleasure was mine, Clara,” Christopher replied, his words laced with a sincerity that betrayed the depth of his confusing feelings. “I hope that we do get the chance to do this again.”

“Goodbye, Christopher.” The charged farewell hung in the air. “I shall see you soon.”

“Yes, farewell, Clara. I look forward to it.”

He watched her walk inside, feeling the intense race of his heart the whole time. He knew in that moment that these feelings were becoming too intense. He could not ignore them any longer. Just because everyone was against them, did not mean they could ignore their feelings.

As Christopher climbed back into the carriage, he was overwhelmed by the sensation that this night had changed everything for them both. And that life was about to become a whole lot more complicated.

***

Back in the solitude of his bedchamber, Christopher found no solace in the familiar surroundings. The room, adorned with rich tapestries and the soft glow of candle light, offered no respite from the tumult that raged within him. The night had taken on a life of its own, echoing the complexities that now entwined his heart.

Restlessness drove him to pace the chamber, the creaking floor boards beneath his feet echoing the unrest in his mind. The encounter with Clara, the shared laughter, and the subtle exchanges had only intensified his admiration and attraction. The delicate balance between reality and the charade he was meant to enact left him feeling utterly conflicted.

He knew the societal expectations that dictated their interactions, the need to maintain the facade of a courtship that existed only to appease the watchful eyes of their peers. But as Christopher delved deeper in to the labyrinth of his emotions, the line between pretense and genuine sentiment blurred.

The growing romantic feelings for Clara gnawed at his conscience, making it harder and harder to view their court ship as a mere charade.

Would pursing Clara as a legitimate suitor ever be acceptable in the eyes of society?

That was the one question that kept flowing through his mind. Their feelings really had to come secondary to that, which was the real issue for him.

Would a future with Clara be worth the risk of shattering the carefully constructed facade that shielded them from scrutiny? Christopher grappled with the conundrum, the scales of logic and emotion teetering in a precarious balance. The thought of abandoning the charade and openly acknowledging his feelings for Clara beckoned like a forbidden fruit, tempting him with the promise of a love unfettered.

He wanted that far more than he cared to admit. It pained him.

Elliot had told him to pursue her because real love was worth everything, but that was far easier said than done. With her father pouring hatred over them, and his mother trying to push them apart… the walls standing between them felt too high.

“What am I going to do?” he muttered to himself as desperation crashed through him. “What are we going to do? How can we ever make this work?”

Collapsing onto the bed, exhaustion claimed him, but even in the realm of dreams, Clara’s presence persisted. Her sparkling eyes and sweet smile painted an ethereal picture that haunted the edges of his slumber.

He could not escape her sweet smile and the way that she made his heart sing when she laughed. He also adored the way that she did not take herself, or their situation, too seriously. She was willing to laugh at the awkwardness surrounding them and not to get upset when they were faced with the Devereux family.

In his dreams, Christopher was far freer to do whatever he wanted. He was able to run his fingers down Clara’s soft cheek and to tuck his finger underneath her chin, drawing her lips closer to his.

It was exactly what he wished he could do in real life, but could not. Not under Ruth’s watchful eye.

In his dream, the kiss was like a bolt of lightning. It was thrilling, exciting, filled with desire. Just how he felt when he was looking right at her.

But could this ever become a reality or would it always be something he could only dream? Without an answer to that, Christopher was left in limbo, and that was the hardest thing of all.