Chapter 26

Chapter 26

London had dazzled Claire for a week, but for Ernest, it had been a week of not knowing what to do. She watched him wander from room to room in the townhouse, vacantly silent, and Claire had done everything she could to bring him back to himself.

She dined with him, strolled with him around London, and had even been to his favourite bakery that he had told her about.

Still, it was a slow process to get him to smile at her and speak properly again.

She sat with him in the townhouse garden, enjoying a pleasantly mild day. The snow was melting around them, and the sun was showing its face slightly. She delighted in its warmth, no matter how brief.

"I just cannot believe it," Ernest murmured, gazing off. "I cannot bring my family back, nor undo what my mother caused, but the lengths she went to … It is rather barbaric even though no true crime was committed."

"It is awful," Claire agreed. "And a lot of her actions make sense. She has been obsessed with wealth and prosperity for a very long time. Even Winnie has complained about the high standard she demands of her maids."

She reached over to take his hands in hers. "Ernest, is there anything I can do? I hate to see you so … Not yourself."

"It will take time for me to truly recover," he murmured. "But I shall get there."

"I do not wish to rush you," she assured him. "Although there is a play tonight in London proper that I wanted to ask to attend."

"Is Lady Florence interested?"

"I was actually hoping it would just be you and I," she admitted, biting her lip.

"Oh." He blinked, smiling in that small, playful well she had missed. "I would very much like that, Miss Gundry. But what will the Ton say?"

She gasped teasingly. "Oh, dear, Lord Bannerdown. They might chase us right out of London!"

Her teasing was enough to get him out of his reverie and laughing quietly. There was still a sense of vacancy in his eyes, but she was glad for the singular brief moment of laughter.

"Is anybody out here?" a male voice called from within the house. "Your housekeeper has sent me right in."

"We are out here, Father," Ernest called, standing up. Claire did the same, tucking her hands before her as her eyes fell on a man who emerged from within the townhouse. He looked exactly like Ernest but older, grayer, and with a thin moustache. He had kind old eyes as if he had seen plenty yet managed to keep such tenderness about him.

Claire smiled, curtseying.

"Mr Barnes," she said, ducking her head. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Father, this is Miss Gundry, Lady Florence's governess. She is accompanying us during Lady Florence's stay in London." He paused, reminding himself that his father would not disapprove of his choices and was not the same as his mother. He had been raised humbly and would support Ernest. "Claire is also my betrothed, Father."

Claire herself blushed as Mr Barnes kissed her hand.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gundry. Although … I do wonder where Lady Florence is if you are out here. Or are you now able to drop such a pretence and think I do not see through it?" He gave a playful wink, and Claire immediately relaxed.

"My father taught me everything I know about being a medic," Ernest told her.

The three of them retreated inside the townhouse into the parlour where wine had been freshly prepared and poured. Claire stayed a respectable distance from Ernest, in an armchair that faced him, while Mr Barnes sat adjacent to them both.

"Father, I wanted to tell you about my mother," Ernest said.

For Claire, listening to the tale of her wrongdoings for the second time somehow made it all the more stark. She still could not quite believe it. But she was even more surprised to see that Mr Barnes did not look entirely surprised.

"Your mother … she always harboured an obsession for her title. She always talked about getting it back one day, and it drove a wedge between us to the point where we would go days without speaking. She had an affair, it seemed, with her love for a title. I felt less and less important to her, until one day, she simply disappeared. And the next thing I knew, I was still Katherine's husband, but she was now Lady Katherine, the lady of Little Harkwell. I truly cannot say I am surprised she went to such lengths." He shook his head.

"I have told her she has the house to manage alone now," Ernest muttered.

"I believe she will likely retreat to one of the other properties, do you not agree?" Mr Barnes asked. "I think distance shall be her way to save face. For if the Ton were to get word of this, they shall curse her to the heavens, I imagine."

"My uncle was very well-liked in Bath," Ernest agreed.

"And you are well-liked as well, my boy," Mr Barnes said. "And you have a fine betrothed here. I cannot see why Bath would not welcome you both with open arms no matter what becomes of your mother. Scandals can wash away like ink stains, Ernest. It will take a while, but soon, nothing will be left of it. Focus on your future, yes? You have a prosperous one, it seems."

Mr Barnes shared a knowing look with Claire, who nodded eagerly. Together, the three of them dined on wine until the late afternoon before Mr Barnes had to depart for a meeting in the evening.

His departure left Ernest and Claire alone, and Ernest turned to her just as the sun began to dip in the sky.

"I wish to do this before we attend the play," he told her, and she gasped as he moved down onto one knee, gazing up at her. He took her hand in his and reached into his pocket with his other hand, producing a ring. "This is no family heirloom, for I cannot think of a worse thing at this moment." He laughed softly. "But I had this especially made for you, Claire. It is a new ring for a new beginning between us both. New lives—ones that are our own and only ours to decide. Claire, you have changed my life. You have given me courage and bravery, support and love. You have been patient and encouraged me when I wished to give up hope. You are dastardly intelligent, and I fear I cannot keep up with you, but I wish to spend every single day of my life attempting to do so. You have given Lady Florence a chance to connect, to love, and to feel passion. You are an unwavering candle in the snow, Claire, and I shall follow you through any darkness life tries to shadow us with."

Claire blinked at him through her tears, her breath hitching. But as she offered her ring finger for him to slip it on with, a door opened.

"What is happening?" Lady Florence asked, gasping. "Oh, heavens above! Have you said yes, yet? Oh, I cannot miss such a moment."

"If you will stop interrupting, then I am sure Claire shall!" Ernest laughed aloud as Lady Florence rushed into the room, holding back a squeal. She practically pushed Claire forward, towards Ernest.

"Yes," Claire answered. "I shall marry you, Ernest."

Lady Florence's sound of joy could have shaken the entirety of London, but all Claire cared about was being swept up in Ernest's arms. She was engaged—she was engaged, and her life was starting to feel a lot clearer, and that was all she could wish for.

***

That night, she sat at her desk in her room in the townhouse. Winnie's manuscript had been mailed to her that day.

She realized this was not the story of Prince Patrick and Miss Winona, but of another one. Lord Basington and Miss Godfrey—Claire smiled at the play on their names as she slowly realized that the characters mirrored them—a lord and governess who slowly fell in love over the course of one beautiful but sorrowful winter. As she read it, she discovered the villain, Lady Kimberley, who had dealt a hand in the death of her brother and nephew. And then there was Lady Felicity, who was Miss Godfrey's ward, and Claire read the same events she had lived through, fictionalized, on paper.

She read for a long time, enraptured by her friend's writing. Indeed, it should be a hit, as Winnie had proclaimed.

And Claire realized what Winnie had done. In writing of the former owners of ‘Long Hallingstone House' and about their deaths, it alluded to the real Lady Kimberley's—Lady Katherine's—guilt. Winnie, the clever lady's maid, had suspected her all along, and had now written the story into a publishable state, ready for the Ton to decide should it be published.

Claire smiled, reading through from the viewpoint of ‘Lord Basington'. When a knock on her door signalled Ernest's arrival, Claire held up the sheet she read from.

"Lord Basington had always loved Miss Godfrey," she read aloud. "From the moment he laid eyes on her, to the very tumultuous end of their lives at Long Hallingstone House. He could scarcely think of a better life than spent with her."

"Ah," he said. "This sounds promising."

"You are Lord Basington, of course." Claire giggled.

"Oh, I know, Miss Godfrey." He laughed as he came around her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She clung onto his upper arms, leaning back into his touch.

"I believe this Lord Basington wishes Miss Godfrey to know he adores her," Ernest murmured, pulling her face up to his. "And that he wishes to be at her side, no matter what comes next. He does not know the future, but he is rather excited for it."

"And Miss Godfrey wishes Lord Basington to know that he saved her," Claire whispered, meeting Ernest's gaze. "And that she was lost without him. And that he is the most handsome man she has ever set eyes on."

She smiled prettily at him, her heart fluttering in her chest, as Ernest leaned in, his mouth pressing to hers in a tender kiss. His mouth was soft against hers, and Claire leaned up, turning to clutch his jacket.

"We shall miss the start of the play," she murmured, kissing him between her words.

"I do not mind if you do not," he teased, drawing back to raise his brow at her. "For if I cannot have a trip to London and kiss my betrothed when I wish, what can I do?"

"Well, I would say the most ideal thing would be to kiss her again," Claire suggested playfully. "That is a wonderful place to start."