The Start of the Season
London, England
Spring 1845
The pit in Clara’s stomach grew deeper as they rode farther away from their London townhome. She glanced uneasily at her sister, Lucy, who was seated beside her, looking pale and grim within the open interior of the hansom cab. The horse’s hooves sounded loudly upon the road, and each strike against the cobblestone felt like a conspicuous advertisement of their plans, although she supposed it was only her guilty conscience that made it seem that way.
Still, Clara winced at the noise and reached over to tug the edge of Lucy’s hood further down in an effort to better conceal her features. Her sister turned to regard her with her large blue eyes and an anxious sigh.
“I wish there was another way, Clara. You know I do.”
Clara reached over to grip Lucy’s trembling hand tightly in her own. “We’ve discussed this.” Her eyes scanned the passing landscape and the darkened windows of the nearby homes, looking strange and haunted in the gloom. “This is the only way for you and Douglas to be together. You’ve already tried talking to Papa.”
“Yes, I know,” Lucy replied sadly, “but I am less concerned with Papa at this point and more worried for you.”
Despite the extremity of the circumstances, Clara fully supported her sister’s choice, even though she knew that when news of Lucy’s elopement spread, the ensuing scandal would mean a . . . difficult . . . season for her, to say the least.
The cab rounded a tight corner and sent Lucy sliding into Clara, who took advantage of the sudden closeness to wrap her arms firmly around her sister. She planted a kiss on her cheek and leaned in close.
“Do not worry about me.”
Clara knew Lucy had not taken this elopement lightly. She’d considered all the possible options and had tried approaching both their mother and father separately. Her sister had even contemplated an unimaginable future without the man she loved, weighing the likelihood of cementing a sensible but joyless marriage for herself during the season.
In the end, however, her love for Douglas had won out. Despite his lack of connections and fortune, the two were an incomparable match for one another, and over the past six months they had manufactured new and creative ways to see each other, even if it were only for a glimpse from across the street. It was simply bad luck that he was so far removed from their social sphere, a fact Lucy had often lamented since meeting the charismatic tradesman unexpectedly on a walk through their village. But he was proud of his lineage, he worked hard, and he was not shamed by the discrepancy of rank between them. Lucy couldn’t help but love him for all the down-to-earth qualities that made him so different from the pompous, fluffy aristocrats of the ton.
They rode that way, arms wrapped around one another, until the gas streetlights of London had given way to the less reliable lighting of the roads that led out of the city. Soon the cab jerked forward, the driver’s authoritative whoa and jerk on the reins slowing the horse’s pace from his elevated perch. Lucy immediately sat up straight and Clara craned her neck, at last discerning the shape of a wheeled cart on the side of the road. They pulled over and a man stepped forward into the road, holding his lantern aloft.
“It’s him!” cried Lucy, scrambling to gather her skirts.
The driver tugged on a lever to open the folded wooden doors by their legs, and Douglas rushed forward as Lucy nearly leaped into his arms, setting the yellow glow of his lamp swaying. He exhaled harshly in what sounded like anticipation and joy.
“At last—”
He set his lantern down on the ground to fully embrace her. Lucy’s hood slid off her caramel-colored locks while they kissed with abandon, and Clara averted her eyes with a grin while disembarking. She noticed the driver had likewise chosen to busy himself by retrieving Lucy’s bag from inside the cab.
They slowly pulled away to gaze at each other, then laughed in breathless disbelief at their moment of indulgence. Clara was happy to see that the earlier pallor of her sister’s cheek had now been replaced with a glorious blush of color—further clarification that they were doing the right thing. She would do anything to see her sister that happy forever.
Douglas clasped Lucy’s hand and glanced away from her to focus on Clara, his gray eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you for bringing her.”
Clara smiled. “I daresay she would have brought herself just fine had I been unavailable to assist. I’ve never seen a woman so determined in all my life.”
His expression turned serious. “Will you be all right? Your parents—”
“All will be well for me, if you can promise all will be well for her,” she said, tipping her head in her sister’s direction.
“I see,” he said, his warm gaze drifting downwards over Lucy’s countenance. “Well, that is a promise easily kept.”
A noise in the distance caught their attention, and Lucy quickly tugged her hood back over her head. Clara, too, ensured hers was in place as a carriage barreled past them in the empty lane. She sought her sister’s eyes.
“I should be getting back, before Mother and Father find something is amiss.”
Lucy came forward to hold her close, and Clara breathed in the sweet smell of her sister’s hair. She was desperate to commit every detail to memory, for she had no idea when she might next be able to see Lucy. In spite of their brave faces, saying good-bye was hard, and both women were wiping away tears by the time they pulled away from each other.
“I’m not sure how we’ll keep in touch.” Lucy sniffed.
Fresh tears blurred Clara’s vision. “It’s probably better if we don’t. At least for now.”
She kissed her sister, then turned to place a kiss on Douglas’s cheek as well. “Take good care of her for me,” she whispered.
He gripped her shoulders. “Thank you, Clara. For everything.”
She nodded mutely, then aimed a tiny smile at her sister.
Get in the cab, before you beg her not to go.
Clara was going to miss her so much. But she would take comfort in the fact that Lucy was living a life of her own choosing, with a man who truly loved her. Most women were not so lucky.
Clara would likely not be so lucky.
She turned with stiff, leaden legs and forced herself to board the cab. There was time for one last wave before the whip of the reins propelled the horse into action, and it was only when the cab pulled around on its return route that the gravity of what was happening sank in. Her sister was leaving everything, leaving all of them, leaving her behind for a new life. Tomorrow when their parents awoke, everything would be different. And even though she wasn’t going with Lucy on her journey, Clara felt as if her life had just shifted in some massive, unchangeable way. A sudden panic closed in around her chest.
Desperate for one last glimpse of her sister, she lurched to the side of the cab and peered around the edge of the window, but the yellow glow of Douglas’s lantern was already fading gradually away, taking Lucy along with it.
Sinking back into the seat, she battled her tears back into submission. She knew in her heart with all certainty they had done the right thing. But she also couldn’t help but wonder, bleakly, if she had just contributed to her own ruin.