Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Claire walked around Little Harkwell after making her confession, feeling so much lighter. Since admitting her former identity, she had grown closer to Ernest.

They shared quips during short carriage rides when Ernest attended the hospital and Claire went to the Haberdasher Bookshop, and they joked about the correct cutlery at dinner and discussed what suits Lady Florence would be most appropriate for. Ever since she had stopped pretending like she knew nothing about the ways of nobility, she felt so much more at ease. It felt like Ernest had grown closer to her, too.

It was as if confessing her true name had made him see her as more than his ward's governess.

But then … perhaps he already had done so but knew it was improper.

She told herself it did not matter. She was not a lady of the Ton any longer. Whether he held any affection for her or not they could not pursue it. But it did not stop Claire from leaning into those feelings that were steadily growing.

They scared her, even as she got closer to Lord Bannerdown.

In the library, the curtains were pulled open to expose a stream of sunlight. It spilled onto the library floor, bathing Ernest in a shower of light that Claire could not quite look away from.

It caught the brown hues of his hair, lightening the strands. Claire's heart swooped, and she tampered it down. She had not felt so giddy over a man since her debut days. Only the day before, she had been coming into Little Harkwell as Ernest had been leaving it, and they'd danced around one another, sidestepping, and he jokingly asked, "Can I have this dance, Lady Claire?" And although it was not who she was anymore, she had giggled, despite herself, and given in to the improper request and danced around the step to avoid crashing into him.

She had only hoped nobody had seen them.

Instead of worrying, she tried to turn back to the book Lady Florence had open on her lap. The Taming of the Shrew, a new favourite of hers that Claire had recommended.

"You mentioned several days ago that you had not chosen a favourite character," Claire said, giddy to share her joy. "Have you thought about it more?"

"I have," Lady Florence told her, giving her a secret smile. "I like Katherine."

Claire felt Ernest's attention on them, hearing his mother's name in quite a different scenario.

"Go on," Claire encouraged.

"Well, I like that she keeps the reader guessing. She claims to be ‘tamed', and I believe Shakespeare does the act of making us unsure as to if she truly is. I want to believe her newfound affection for her husband is true, but I simply cannot believe it was done so easily. It is similar to Romeo and Juliet, where we believe they will come together, but we are kept in suspense. I truly admire how Shakespeare does both these things in his writing."

She caught Ernest's eye from across the library, finding him impressed by his cousin. He had a medical science book open in his lap and had been reading intently until they'd happened to look up simultaneously. Her heart beat double-time, and she cleared her throat.

"Do you agree, Miss Gundry?"

"Sorry? Oh, of course. He is very adept at providing suspense, Lady Florence. Do you have any favourite lines? Perhaps we can incorporate it into a recital of sorts to display your recollection."

Lady Florence cleared her throat. "If I be waspish, best beware my sting. I like how it shows that many people can name someone bad, but when they truly are bad and give into what they are called, then they have only brought that badness upon themselves. It is like being called a grieving daughter, and everyone will acknowledge it, but when they see the signs of that grief, they do not know what to do with me."

Claire blanched, unexpecting of the depth of the young girl's mind. But she was quite right, really.

Lady Florence had possessed her moments in grief. Anger, rebellion, sadness. And she needed that space to grieve. Now, ever since Ernest had taken Lady Florence to the house's gallery several nights ago, she had been warming back up to Claire, something she was immensely grateful for. She looked back at Ernest.

"Grief is a fickle friend," she said, "and can make us act certain ways, but there is forgiveness in grief. Perhaps Katherine, in this play, grieves her former self."

"I think so."

Claire was too caught up in the soft way Ernest gazed at her as if her words were something he had needed to hear.

"Miss Gundry?"

Ernest caught her eye again and shook his head in a mocking scold as if to say you were not paying attention again!

But then his eyes lowered, his grin turned softer, more subtle, and Claire felt herself grow warmer. For a moment, she imagined they were two different people: a governess and a medic. Or perhaps an earl and a lady. Not this strange combination of their different lives but a combination of people that could have a courtship.

And then Lady Florence tapped her. "Miss Gundry, I was asking if you had a favourite line."

"I do, in fact. Do I dream? Or have I dreamed till now? I do not sleep; I see, I hear, I speak, I smell sweet savors, and I feel soft things."

"That is a peculiar choice."

Claire hummed. "I have loved that line for a long time. It reminds me of …" She almost said being alive, for there was a time where she thought she would not make it through destitution to provide for herself. It was a reminder of all she had given in her life to ensure she survived.

"It reminds me that we are all aware of our surroundings, and we do our best."

"I agree," Lady Florence said.

"I have to leave for my luncheon soon, and my eyes hurt with so much reading. Can I practice my pianoforte until I have to leave?"

"Of course," she said. "I am happy to hear you play again, Lady Florence."

"I never should have been so stubborn."

As Lady Florence left the room, Claire went to follow, but Ernest held a book out in front of her, stopping her in the doorway. "George Washington was a fine leader. Many Americans were sad to see him give up his position."

She glanced up at him. "Indeed, they were," she said. "It would be a great shame for many people if some men stopped doing the things they excelled at." She gave him a knowing look.

"I see what you mean, Miss Gundry—"

"Claire," she corrected.

"Claire," he teased. "And I appreciate you for saying it. It seems like not many are telling me those sorts of things."

"I do wonder why we are so fixated, as a society, on making someone one or the other in positions. Why can you not be a medic and an earl? It is insane."

"Quite," he agreed. "But I am getting away with it so far, am I not?"

"You are." She laughed. "But is George Washington the only reason you stopped me?"

"No," he admitted. "I would like to pose an idea to you." His brow furrowed, and Claire's defences immediately went up, sensing something troubling. "Yes, Lord Bannerdown?"

"I … I have spoken to Lady Florence about a potential trip to London for a short while. I think being in Bath is not the right thing for her at the moment, and I wished to discuss the notion with you as well."

"You wish us to depart to London?"

He nodded. "I want to protect you as you have tried to protect Lady Florence and me. In honesty, Claire, I am worried that my mother has already done something, and if she has not already done it, then she surely will. I think London will provide safety for you."

He wishes to protect me, Claire thought, her heart swelling with delight.

But dread also pitted in her stomach at the thought of Lady Katherine. What could she do to Claire that she had not already done? Could she see her out of employment anywhere at all? Little Harkwell was not her only option, but it was her best one. She did not want to risk parting from Lord Bannerdown, and Lady Katherine could ensure that very thing happened.

Ernest placed his hand on her shoulder, causing her to meet his gaze.

"Claire, I swear to you I shall protect you, no matter what. My mother will not continue to hold your past over your head."

She nodded, her heart full with happiness and feeling protected after she had been failed by those who swore similar things in the past. But it was for that very reason she could not entirely trust it.

"I must excuse myself," he said, pulling away, and she immediately missed the warmth of his hand. "I am due back at the hospital to give a seminar. It was what I was brushing up on just now."

"Cramming in your information at the last moment?" Claire teased. "That is terrible, Lord Bannerdown. What will the medical students say?"

"Hopefully nothing, as they shall all be enraptured by my charismatic presence." He grinned at her.

"I know I certainly would be," she admitted, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Have a good afternoon, My Lord."

"And you, Miss Gundry."

***

Claire saw Lady Florence off and into the carriage with Lady Katherine. Although she yearned to protect the young woman from the lady of the house, she knew she had nothing to prove Lady Katherine was even a threat to her.

And Lady Florence looked excited to go to the modiste ahead of her debut that year, while Lady Katherine looked positively bored.

Claire assured herself that such a bored woman would not go to lengths to jeopardize her ward. She hoped. Returning inside, she ventured into the cellar, where Winnie was hard at work on her manuscript.

"I am afraid I cannot stay and chat, Claire," Winnie said breathlessly. "I shall only have this brief time of Lady Katherine's absence to write down the scene I can see in my head! I think Prince Patrick is about to kiss Miss Winona and declare his love in front of everyone!"

"I shall not disturb you longer then, Winnie." Claire laughed, leaving the lady's maid to her writing. Instead, she ventured upstairs to the music room, happy for the peace in the house to tinker away. She had no duties and had prepared everything for the remainder of Lady Florence's day.

She sat down at the instrument and began to move her way down the scales, clearing her throat as she sang the notes. Claire was utterly alone for the first time in a while. There was no Lady Katherine and her hawk eyes watching her, no ward to teach, and no Lord Bannerdown to send her heart racing. She enjoyed it while it lasted.

However, it was not long before she was interrupted by a footman. "A guest is arriving at the manor, Miss. Shall I show him to the drawing room?"

"Yes, thank you," she said. "I am sure Lady Katherine shall be home soon to attend him."

"He is not here for Lady Katherine nor Lord Bannerdown, Miss. He has come looking for a Lady Claire Garner."

"Excuse me?" Claire asked, her voice faint. She clung onto the pianoforte for support as her vision blurred at the edges. "I … I shall see who it is and what he wants."

Her heart pounded as she rushed to the drawing room. There was only one man who knew her by that name who might recently have a reason to seek her out.

Claire slowed just before she entered the drawing room, and her palms began to sweat. For standing by the window was a man from her past. A man she had not thought she would see again.

Lord Simon Tuberville stood with his hands behind his back, humming to himself.

When he turned to face her, he was as every bit handsome as he had once been at the age of twenty-one. He looked more mature now, his smile broader as he regarded her.

Claire's mouth parted in surprise, no words rising to her aid.

But Lord Simon talked for her—of course, he did. For when she had needed his words, they had not arrived, but now she did not, they were there.

"Forgive me for giving your former name to the footman," he said. "I did not wish to risk you not coming to see me. I knew the element of surprise would pique your attention."

"Lord Simon," she whispered. "I do not understand. Why are you here? Lord Bannerdown is out at the hospital, and Lady Katherine is at the modiste."

"Which is precisely why I am here now," he told her. "I do not wish to see them but you, Claire. Or should I call you Miss Gundry now? I hear that is who you are these days."

Her stomach dropped. She took him in, unbelieving it was truly Lord Simon. She had thought she had buried her past well enough that he would not get wind of her—her place of employment included.

But it was not malice that drove him to say those things. They sounded sincere and polite.

"Lord Simon …"

"Miss Gundry," he greeted, bowing his head. "It is under quite different circumstances that we meet again."

"I am unsure as to why we are," she admitted. Pity passed through his face, his mouth turning down as if in sympathy. Still, he was surprised as he took in her governess's dress, and suddenly, Claire had never felt her fall from Society as immensely as she did at that moment. This man could have been her husband. Had he not broken things off so abruptly then he likely would have been.

"I can clear that up," he assured her. His hands behind his back, he began to explain, and he was every bit of the literary scholar she once remembered. He commanded a room, whether there was one person in it or one hundred. "I received a mysterious note explaining that Lady Claire Garner was now Miss Claire Gundry and was working as a governess for Lady Florence, the orphaned cousin of the newly-appointed Lord Bannerdown. That the former lady's fall from grace had been quite drastic indeed, and imagine my surprise to realize that Little Harkwell was right on my doorstep. I had to see you, Miss Gundry. I had to make amends. I had to see how you fared."

He moved closer to her, the persona he used to present himself when speaking dissolving into the tenderness she had seen glimpses of during their courtship. But this time, when his arms outstretched to embrace her, she moved back.

"I …"

"Is it true?" he asked. "The Ton says the baron was riddled with debt, and his daughter handled them after his death. I should have known, Miss Gundry. I should have offered my aid."

"Lord Simon," she breathed. "I … We both know you did not even offer aid in the form of a comforting word following my father's death. That, at the very least, would have been a lifeline for me back then. I felt terribly alone." She gathered her courage. "But now I am not, and I have a good life. I do not need your pity, and I may no longer be a lady, but I do not wish to be caught alone with you."

She thought of Lady Katherine. She could return with Lady Florence at any moment. She could spin any sort of rumour between Claire and Lord Simon if she found them. She could whisper into Ernest's ear about false things. She could convince him they rekindled an old flame.

Claire shuddered.

"You are right," Lord Simon conceded. "And I truly cannot apologize enough for how I ended our courtship. In all honesty, that was a bright, brilliant light for me. It kept me swimming above the surface when everything else threatened to drown me."

"That may be so, but at least you did swim," she answered. "I drowned."

"And yet you rose from the ashes," he murmured, taking her in. "I have long since matured from my selfish ways. I did not wish to be abrupt back then, but I had so many feelings for you I did not know how to handle them. I had a lot of pressure from my father to choose someone he found eligible and the right woman, yet I only wanted you."

"And you still did not choose me."

Her words weren't the bitterness of hurt anymore; she simply felt detached from the whole ordeal.

"I should have found you sooner," he said. "I am sorry I did not. I should have saved—"

"I saved myself, Lord Simon," she said sharply, defending herself. Even if she trembled with anxiety, she still held herself strong. "I proved that I did not need anyone."

"You have matured," he noted. "As have I." Lord Simon paused, his face tightening. "Miss Gundry, am I to blame for your ruin?"

Her mouth tightened. "That does not matter. It happened; I am living a new life now. And I would like you to leave this house and my life. For good, Lord Simon."

He shook his head. "I am afraid my honour keeps me from that. See, I am here to see you but also to discuss the issue of my brother and Lady Florence. As repayment for the damage my brother has caused, I wish to set right every wrong done by the Tuberville name. It pains me to watch my brother make the same foolish mistakes I once did. And so, I shall return, Miss Gundry, and I shall help you in the way I once did not. I shall be honourable, and I shall rectify both mine and my brother's mistakes."

Claire's mouth fell open. He could not possibly be suggesting he return for her hand.

He had promised it once, speaking to her of a future where they left Bristol behind, of saving her from her father's seclusion, for she was a social butterfly destined for lavish balls and people surrounding her. Claire felt so detached from that life now.

"Lord Simon, your mistake has not lingered with me. You do not need to repay anything from six years ago. Much has happened since then, and I no longer need aid."

"Not anymore, no, but you did then, and duty demands I honour that."

"Lord Simon …" Her voice was harsh. Where had he discovered this new sense of morality? He had wanted nothing to do with her after her name was ruined, thanks to her father's debts and death. "Lord Simon, as I said, I am not interested, and you owe me nothing. That is all I wish to hear of it."

"Are you uninterested because your pride keeps you working here? Or is it something else … Perhaps someone else keeping you in Little Harkwell?"

"I do not know what you are suggesting," she snapped. Claire turned to walk out, throwing a glare over her shoulder. "I do not need your help, and that is the end of things. Have a good day, Lord Simon."

She walked out, and it was only when she returned to the music room that she exhaled deeply, pressing a hand to her chest where her heart thudded in a terrified, sick beat.