Chapter Two

The dress was three years old and hopelessly out of fashion. Clarissa smoothed her hand down the front of it, narrowing her eyes at any suspicious area that might need mending. She didn't like it. It was too small for her now, the color did not complement her complexion, and worse of all, it was old-fashioned. But it was one of the only dresses she had left.

Slowly, she raised her eyes to her face. And sighed. She missed her earrings. She missed wearing that small locket around her neck no matter what time of day it was. She missed the lovely headdresses she would don on special days, sitting prettily between her silky, dark brown hair. There were so many things about her old life that she wanted back. Things she would never get again.

For one, she was no longer in her own bedchamber. Clarissa couldn't even remember how it looked. It had been two years since she'd left their London townhouse to stay with her aunt and uncle and the lovely bedchamber they had put her in looked nothing like her own. She was yet to make it her own, as empty of character as she felt.

She didn't sigh. She was tired of sighing. It had been two years so this was her life now. It was about time she got used to it.

Clarissa ran her fingers through her hair in an idle manner as she turned and left her room. She hadn't bothered to style it the way she usually did. Rather than intricate curls, she twisted the top of her hair into a chignon while the rest tumbled down her back. It comforted her to touch her hair, the only thing that remained truly hers.

"You look lovely, Clarissa!"

Clarissa came to a halt, smiling at her sister emerging from her own chambers. Again she was struck by how mature Louisa looked, now at ten-and-five years old. It was like looking at her younger self. Louisa was still so full of life that it was hard to believe she'd been there when their lives had been turned upside down two years ago. She endured everything with a smile while Clarissa constantly remained in the past.

"As do you, Louisa," Clarissa said, slipping her arm through hers. Even though Louisa's dress was also out of fashion, it fit her far better. She'd styled her hair, the same dark brown as Clarissa's though much shorter. "And I see that you are in a good mood."

"Because it is a lovely day," Louisa chirped. "Can you blame me?"

Clarissa's laugh came easily, surprisingly so. "No, I suppose I cannot. Then I take it you intend on spending it outdoors?"

Louisa pouted in thought. Together, they turned and continued along their way down the hallway. "I am not sure. Do you think Uncle will be willing to let me go horse riding today?"

"I do not see why not," Clarissa said honestly. "Uncle falls prey to your charm like everyone else. If you ask, I doubt that he will deny you."

Louisa laughed, the sound instantly lifting her spirits. If she let her mind wander too far, she would begin to wonder when Louisa would lose her spark, if she would become as fearful of the future as Clarissa was. But she didn't dare let that train of thought take hold. As the eldest, Clarissa would do anything to save her sister from worrying about a single thing.

"Let us see then, shall we?" Louisa said, a spark of challenge in her eyes.

They made it down to the drawing room and the moment they walked through the door, Clarissa's mood plummeted to the floor. Her mother sat in her usual spot by the window, gazing out with that blank look on her face. She looked hastily dressed, as if she had barely given much thought into what she was wearing. Her hair seemed unbrushed. And she sat so still that Clarissa was almost afraid to draw closer, lest she startled her.

The Dowager Baroness of Quelshire had once been a proud woman. Her shell sat there now, nothing but a husk without a soul. After everything that happened two years ago, Lady Olivia Wyndham fell into a deep melancholy and never recovered.

"Good morning, Mother!" Louisa chirped, letting go of Clarissa's arm to flock to their mother's side.

Clarissa warily drew nearer, sitting next to Louisa. She studied Olivia's face, searching for signs of life like she usually did. And as usual, disappointment came swiftly when she saw nothing shining back at her.

Louisa barreled on, as if unperturbed by her mother's state. "Don't you think it is a lovely day? I have not gone horse-riding in quite some time so I am hoping to ask Uncle if he will allow me to have one of the horses for the afternoon."

Olivia did not answer. Clarissa couldn't remember the last time Olivia spoke. The shock of her husband's death and the state he had left them in seemed to have settled far too deeply in her mind and she was yet to recover.

A part of Clarissa couldn't blame her. She'd only been ten-and-nine when the Baron of Quelshire passed away. The death of her father had been sad enough, but the trauma that came with learning of his horrible financial decisions nearly broke her. In a matter of a month, their comfortable life had been turned upside down. Debt was far too simple a word for the destitution they'd found themselves in. And with it came such a horrible mark on their reputation as a family that Clarissa had lost all hope of finding a husband.

Clarissa had lost more than one parent in the span of a month. And with it came the constantly distressing worry about how they would survive. Their lacking reputation and no dowry meant the chances of Louisa and her getting married were slim. And she did not want to be dependent on her aunt and uncle for any longer than was necessary, though she saw no way out of it right now.

Louisa chattered on. Clarissa bit her tongue, wanting to tell Louisa to stop. But the sound of her voice was comforting. If she tried hard enough, Clarissa could pretend that nothing bad had happened at all.

Before long, two maids entered the room bearing trays, cutlery, and pots of tea. Behind them was Lord Robert Miller, the Earl of Santbury and his wife, Martha. Robert's eyes instantly fell on Olivia. As her older brother, Clarissa could only imagine how distressing it had to be for him to see his younger sister in such a state.

"Good morning, Uncle!" Louisa chirped. "Good morning, Aunt."

"Louisa, darling, you seem to be in a lovely mood," Martha observed as she came to sit with them. "It makes me wonder if you know of our news already."

"News?" Clarissa spoke up, frowning.

Robert claimed the spot next to his wife. He rested a hand on her rotund belly, clearly without thought. They were a lovely couple, Clarissa thought again. Though he was far older than Olivia, he'd married much later. Now, after four years of trying, Martha was finally with child.

"Goodness, Martha," he said lovingly. "And here I thought you wanted to create suspense before telling them."

"I cannot help myself," Martha giggled. She leaned into her husband's loving touch and Clarissa had to fight the pang of envy at the sight. "I am so excited that I can hardly contain it."

"Excited about what?" Louisa asked. "What are you talking about?"

The earl and countess exchanged looks. Clarissa squirmed uncertainly. What if they intended to put them out? They had been dependent on Robert and Martha for almost two years now, contributing very little to their household. And at her age of one-and-twenty, with no wealth at all, she had no hopes of marrying. Were they going to tell them to leave to fend for themselves?

She'd been dreading this moment. Even though their happy smiles told her that perhaps her pessimistic thoughts were only that, Clarissa knew that it was only a matter of time before her uncle grew tired of their presence. Family or no, they were burdens. Her mother was like a raggedy, lifeless doll. Her sister was far too young to be of any help to anyone. And Clarissa was quickly nearing spinsterhood with no suitable matches. They were doomed.

No one noticed her guard building up around her as Robert said, "I have decided to fund a dowry for Clarissa to attend the upcoming season."

"I understand," Clarissa began. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, her gaze fixed on her lap in the hopes that no one would see her tears. "We shall begin packing our things."

"Clarissa, didn't you hear?" Louisa nudged her excitedly. "Uncle said he would fund your dowry! You will be attending the Season!"

"Yes, I heard—" She broke off, looking sharply at her sister. "I am what?"

Martha's laughter drew Clarissa's attention. "I told you that she would be too stunned to speak. Oh just thinking about it brings me back to when I debuted at my first Season. I can only imagine how excited you are, Clarissa"

Excited? No, not at all. Stunned and in a debilitating state of disbelief. Quite so.

"I don't understand," she managed to say. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Robert countered as if the answer was obvious. "You are my niece. And after all that has happened to you, I think it rather sad that you are unable to step into society the way you should have by now. If I remember correctly, you were to debut before Edward passed, correct?"

Clarissa could only manage a nod. Louisa was buzzing with elation next to her.

"And once you found out the truth of his management, you were unable to." Robert shook his head as if he was sincerely saddened by the thought. "Business has been going quite well as of late so it will not harm us to contribute to your launch into society. It is about time you marry, don't you think?"

Clarissa didn't know what to say. Her mind was a whirlwind, uncertainty and hope warring in her heart. Thankfully, Louisa easily filled the silence.

"How exciting!" she gushed. "I've always wanted to attend balls during the Season. What about Clarissa's wardrobe? Surely she shouldn't attend a single event in such old-fashioned garments."

"I am grateful to be attending at all," Clarissa said quickly, shooting her sister a warning glance.

Martha laughed again. "Not to worry. I shall oversee the improvement of all your wardrobes. Yours as well, Olivia."

There was a brief moment of silence as they waited for Olivia to acknowledge what was being said. Of course, she said nothing, hardly moving.

Robert went on as if they hadn't paused at all. "And, to make this news even more exciting, we have already received our first invitation to a ball."

"Oh, tell us!" Louisa squealed. Clarissa found herself leaning over slightly in anticipation.

"The Dowager Viscountess of Yulebridge will be hosting her spring ball in the coming week and wishes for all to be in attendance. Which means there is quite a lot of preparation to be done before then. I hope you two are ready."

"We are," Clarissa and Louisa said in unison, Louisa in her usual excitable manner and Clarissa with firm determination. Her own enthusiasm lingered underneath the trepidation she felt at this sudden turn of events. After losing hope of their future, slowly beginning to believe that their ruined reputation would be the end of them, she was being given another chance.

And she couldn't squander it. She would take this opportunity by the horns and emerge at the other end in a secured marriage. One where she could take care of her mother and sister and secure Louisa's own future one day.

"Marry?"

All eyes turned to Olivia. Stunned silence settled around them.

Olivia's eyes fluttered and Clarissa realized she had not been mistaken. Her mother had spoken. "You will marry?" Olivia whispered. Painstakingly slow, she turned and locked eyes with Clarissa. Something shadowed her expression, the sight of it making Clarissa's tongue grow thick in her mouth.

Before anyone could attempt to respond, Olivia's eyes rolled to the back of her head. Robert caught her before she could hit the ground.

"Quickly, call the butler!" he barked to no one in particular but Louisa was already on her feet, rushing out the door. Clarissa didn't know what Martha did. Her attention was on her mother, already sinking to her knees to come face to face with her.

"Mother," she called desperately, patting her cheek. She swallowed the bile of fear that rushed up her throat, realizing that her mother's face was hot to the touch. As hot as her father's had been days before his death. "Mother, open your eyes, please."

That day came rushing back to her. It was her father laying limp before her instead, breathing so heavily that she had been afraid to touch him. Fear tore at her insides as she tried her best to remain calm, as she tried not to think that she might be losing another parent all over again.

And then the door opened and the butler came rushing in with Louisa on his heels. He sank to Olivia's side, popping open a bottle of smelling salt and putting it under her chin. They all waited with bated breaths for her to stir.

At least she did. It began as another flutter of her eyelids and Louisa let out a sob. Clarissa put her hand over her mouth, holding back her own silent cries of relief when her mother's eyes opened.

"Bring her up to her room," Robert ordered, even though he didn't have to. Clarissa was already moving to her mother's side, guiding her to a stand. Louisa quickly claimed her other side and, together, they helped her out of the room with the butler trailing behind, smelling salt still in hand.

As they went on, Olivia seemed to regain more of her consciousness. She hardly helped herself walk, dragging herself along and weighing them down. Clarissa didn't complain though. It had been so long since she'd heard her mother speak that she couldn't help the sparkle of hope that her health was beginning to improve. Right now she could handle a little dead weight if it meant that her mother's mind might be returning.

"Lay her down gently," Clarissa said softly upon reaching Olivia's room. With Louisa's help, they laid her on the bed. Olivia immediately curled onto her side, tucked her arm under her head, and stared at the wall.

The butler returned to his duties shortly after, but not before leaving the bottle of smelling salts by her bedside. After a moment, Louisa did as well, claiming that she needed a bit of sunshine and fresh air. Clarissa stood there for far too long, staring down at her mother and wondering when things would begin to feel normal again.

The last time she'd felt anything close to normalcy had been a fa?ade designed by her father. They'd been living a false life without knowing it—every frivolous purchase they made, every platter of food on their table, only making things worse. And with her mother in the state she was in now, the responsibility rested on Clarissa to save her family. A responsibility that did nothing but distress her every day since she hadn't a clue how to go about it.

Now she was being given a chance. She would not let it slip through her fingers.

After a long while, she left her mother alone and went to the only room that brought her solace—the library. Clarissa quickly found the writing desk tucked between two bookshelves in the corner of the room and pulled free clean sheets of paper.

Her poems were the only thing of the past she had, the only way of expressing the deep waves of conflicting emotions that plagued her day by day. She could spend hours writing, pouring her heart into the words that would never be seen by another soul. Some days were more despondent than others. But her poetry today sang a different tune.

They spoke of hope and longing, and a perfect night at Lady Yulebridge's ball.