by Norah Black
“I’m happy to help in any way you need, Mother,” Clara confirmed, though she couldn’t make her enthusiasm completely convincing. Spending the morning doing her mother’s bidding, putting up with the jabs that would no doubt fly her way, was not how Clara wanted to spend the hours before she would see Robert. Her mother would take advantage of every opportunity to remind Clara that the purpose of the dinner was to further the acquaintance between Robert and Helen, for her to establish herself with his family. It would undoubtedly be done with the utmost skill, shaping each remark until it was perfectly off-hand, each backhanded compliment was flawlessly delivered, all with the purpose of discouraging her from joining the party.
But Clara knew there was nothing her mother could say that would keep her from seeing Robert again. And assisting with the preparations would be a distraction from the clock, waiting for the hours to pass before she could even begin to get ready for dinner.
“Very well,” their mother said with resignation. “I’ll try not to ask too much of you. We wouldn’t want you tiring yourself out before our guests arrive.” With that, their mother swept back out of the sitting room.
Helen shot Clara a look of sympathy. “I’ll do my best to be back early,” she said. “We need to have plenty of time to get you ready. If you would like, we can go look through the dresses in my closet tonight.”
Clara smiled broadly and nodded, following her sister as she led the way.
***
It was a long and trying morning, but Clara survived. The note she had from Robert helped. Saving it until she was preparing for bed, Clara had unfolded the small scrap of paper and struggled to make out the words he’d written. She wondered if his handwriting was usually so difficult to make out or if something other than time constraints might have caused his hand to shake.
Clara, I cannot wait to see you again but it seems I must. Know that you will spend much of the time between then and now in my thoughts. Robert.
She trailed after her mother, who was almost running laps in the house, covering every inch when simply ringing the bell would have summoned a messenger. As she followed around and listened to her mother’s instructions, Clara would put her hand to the place at her belted waist where she’d hidden the note from Robert. She chose to believe in those moments, he was thinking about her too, that she wasn’t in the same room as her mother but in Robert’s thoughts.
She and her mother were interrupted when Helen came home during the afternoon. Their mother didn’t have anything to say regarding Helen’s excursion into the humbler corners of the neighborhood but Clara thought she had best continue with their ruse from the previous day.
“Helen, come tell us how you made out. Do the farmers expect a good crop yield this season? Is everyone well?” she called out, as Helen was about to walk past the room where they were putting finishing touches of some vases of flowers from the beloved gardens.
Helen turned and came back, pasting on a polite smile and babbling about how well everyone was and the fact that the cook would have plenty of options when it came time to make preserves and pickles. But Clara could see that something was wrong. There was violence in the way Helen looked at their mother while she couldn’t bring herself to meet Clara’s eyes. Clara watched as their mother ignored Helen’s report, focusing her attention on figuring out where the blue-purple iris in her hand would fit best in the arrangement before her. She felt Helen’s gaze upon her. She turned her head just in time to see Helen look away before excusing herself and dashing off to her room.
“Clara, I’m not sure I like the iris in this. One is either too much or not enough. Should I have more added or lose this one altogether?” Martha asked, turning the vase and tilting her head to examine the array from different angles.
After her mother had dismissed her so they could dress for dinner, Clara directed herself to Helen’s room. They’d chosen their dresses the afternoon before and Helen made Clara promise they would dress together but now Clara found the door locked. She knocked and called to Helen but received no answer. She waited and knocked again. This time the maid that usually helped Helen to dress came upon Clara in the hallway.
“I’m afraid Miss Helen is resting and doesn’t wish to be disturbed,” she whispered.
“Oh,” Clara muttered in confusion. “Uh... Thank you. If she doesn’t wake on her own, be sure to wake her in the next half hour and remind her she needs to dress for dinner. I’ll... I’ll be in my room if she asks for me.”
The maid nodded and stood outside the door watching as Clara made her way down the hall towards her own room. Glancing back over her shoulder before turning the corner, Clara saw the door open and the maid slip inside. Clara’s brow furrowed in concern and perplexity. She wondered what Helen could have learned that day to affect her so much. And Clara was more than a little disappointed. She wanted Helen to share whatever information she had as soon as possible to sate her own curiosity.
Some of the disappointment lifted when Clara returned to her room to discover Helen had sent the dress they’d chosen the previous day directly to Clara’s room. She would have to get ready without her sister there to compliment and encourage her, but she didn’t have to wear the beaded blue dress from the last time Robert had dined with them. Seeing the deep green fabric carefully positioned on her bed, Clara couldn’t help but smile and bite her bottom lip. She rang the bell that would bring Trudy and began to undo the buttons on the blouse she’d worn all day.
The note from Robert slipped out of place and fluttered to the floor when she pulled the shirt loose from the skirt. She picked it up and held it, contemplating whether she should hide it with the photograph in the jewelry box or continue to hide it on her person so that she could later show Robert how she kept it with her. Trudy’s carpet-muffled footsteps signaled her approach.
Clara quickly slipped the note under the cover of a book on her desk just as Trudy opened the door.
“Do you need help dressing for tonight?” Trudy asked as Clara turned to face her, her fingers fumbling with the buttons on her blouse. “I thought you were supposed to be dressing with Miss Helen this evening.”
“That’s what we had originally planned, yes, Trudy,” Clara explained, sliding her arms free from the blouse and moving on to loosen the belt and skirt. “But Helen’s visiting took more out of her than she expected and she needed a bit of quiet before the others arrive.” She carefully stepped out of her skirt and stood before Trudy in her slip and underclothes. “I shouldn’t need too much assistance with the dress itself, except fastening it.”
Trudy nodded and fetched the dress from the bed. A few moments later, Trudy stood behind Clara in front of the long mirror, a smile teasing at the corners of her lips. Clara’s pleasure at her reflection shone through her every feature. The dress was one of Helen’s older ones, the style a few seasons out of fashion. It was more fitted through the bodice and lacked the elaborate beading of the blue dress. Designed for when corsets were still the norm, Clara was just enough smaller than Helen and Helen had been just enough younger for the dress to fit Clara perfectly without a corset. Helen had complained that while she’d always liked the understated cut of the dress, the vibrant green made her feel like a potted plant in a hot house. But on Clara, the green satin shone like an emerald when contrasted with her porcelain skin and darker hair. It didn’t have proper sleeves, but short wisps of sheer fabric that attached at the shoulders and tickled her upper arms. A trim of black lace adorned the neck and hemlines. She slipped on the heeled shoes that Helen had refused to accept back and adjusted a few strands of her hair.
“Do you have anything to wear with it?” Trudy asked quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“A necklace or a comb for your hair,” Trudy explained. Clara remained transfixed by her reflection and didn’t immediately notice Trudy’s movements in the direction of her jewelry box. “Wearing such a simply styled dress is the perfect excuse to embellish with jewelry.”
Finally perceiving what Trudy was after, Clara quickly cut her off, standing between her nursemaid and the box. “There was a locket on a black ribbon that Helen mentioned would go well with this dress. Would you go ask her if she’ll loan it to me?”
Trudy nodded. “Sounds like just the touch it needs.”
When Trudy was safely out of the room, Clara opened and examined the box’s contents, reassuring herself that the photograph remained invisible to anyone casually peeking. Leaving the lid open, she crossed to the book on her desk to remove Robert’s note and stow it away in the same hiding place. But as she held in once more she couldn’t bring herself to part with it and instead tucked it down the front of her dress, between the thin fabric of her slip and the bare skin of her chest. The tightness of the bodice would keep the paper from slipping and a quick check in the mirror showed that even when specifically looking for it, the outline of the folded note was indiscernible. As she closed the lid of the jewelry box again, Trudy gave a quiet knock and reentered the room.
“It took a minute for her to find it but here it is.” Trudy held either end of a black satin ribbon, a small oval of silver weighing it down in the middle. Clara turned so Trudy could fasten the locket in place for her. Returning to the mirror both women smiled in mutual approval.
“Well, I believe you’re ready to go down,” Trudy remarked. She couldn’t keep a note of pride from her voice, despite her best efforts.
“How long do you think it will be before Helen is ready to go down? I think I’ll wait for her,” Clara said, leaning into the mirror to examine the locket more closely.
“She was on her way down when I went to ask about borrowing the necklace,” Trudy answered with a touch of surprise. “She’ll be waiting in the sitting room with your mother.”
“Thank you,” Clara said. A touch of disappointment tainted her smile of appreciation. Trudy left quietly and Clara focused on the floral etchings that decorated the locket. There was a hinge but she couldn’t easily open it while wearing it so she decided to wait and satisfy her curiosity after dinner. Robert and the others would be arriving shortly and she was eager to see what her mother thought of the dress.
She heard voices as she approached the sitting room and felt a momentary fluttering in her stomach, believing their guests must have arrived early. But as she got closer she realized she recognized the two voices belonged to her mother and sister and the tone they took with one another was not one they would ever use in front of company.
Clara couldn’t make out what they were saying and wasn’t sure she wanted to know; at least, not at that moment. She didn’t want to think about the secrets and truths waiting to be uncovered or why Helen had been acting strangely since she’d returned home that day. Clara wanted to think about Robert and how he would be arriving any minute. She wanted to speculate on his reaction to how she looked in her dress or what he would say if she could find both the opportunity and courage to tell him she’d carried his note with her all day. She wondered what his family would think of her and what he’d told them about her.
So Clara stepped loudly as she walked the last few yards to the sitting room, emphasizing her approach and sure enough the squabbling stopped as she entered the room to find both women seated at opposite ends of the settee. Helen’s expression was easy to read as she took in Clara’s finished results. Blind admiration and pride brought back some of the color that had been absent in the last few hours. But the longer she stared, the more that something resembling sadness crept into her eyes and dulled the brightness, leaving her smile almost hollow, as though examining something she thought she’d recognized but was no longer sure she knew. Martha’s reaction was not the haughty challenge Clara expected. Instead, she saw her mother go pale. Her eyes shimmered with what looked like tears but she didn’t appear sad or happy. She didn’t even appear angry or perturbed. Clara struggled to put a word to what she saw in her mother’s eyes. It couldn’t be fear?
Then Martha noticed the locket and she exclaimed in fury and disbelief, “Where did you get that?”
Clara’s hand instinctively reached up to touch the locket but before she could say anything, Helen jumped in. “I gave it to her.”
Martha turned on her daughter. “You had no right—”
“You gave it to me as a gift; it’s my locket and I chose to give it to Clara to borrow,” she snapped defiantly. Without breaking eye contact with her mother, Helen addressed Clara. “It suits you, Clara. You can go ahead keep it if you like.”
“No,” she protested. “Thank you, Helen, but no. Not when Mother gave it as a gift to you.” Martha was the first to look away as she turned to fix her gaze on Clara. The pain Clara saw in her mother’s face caused her to clutch the silver charm and contemplate removing it.
That was when their father entered the room with the head of household staff on his heels, announcing the arrival of their guests. Those who were seated stood, straightening out their garments and accessories with their hands while they mentally readjusted their masks, ready to welcome their visitors and ensure a pleasant evening.
Robert shook hands with her father upon entering but his eyes flew straight to Clara and she felt her heart begin to race. Introductions were made, though Mrs. Robinson, Mrs. Davis, and Helen chose to address one another by first name. Martha did her best to detain Nora, but Robert succeeded in removing Clifton from the conversation long enough to greet Clara and introduce them to one another.
“You’re the Miss Davis who was kind enough to assist my cousin with that car of his,” Clifton said holding his hand out for Clara to take.
“You make it sound as though I had a hand in the repairs. Alas, I only kept him entertained while the mechanic was fetched. And please call me Clara.”
“And you may call me Cliff.” As he straightened up Clara thought she saw him wink at Robert whose face darkened momentarily.
“You must meet my sister, Clara,” Helen’s voice broke into their conversation. “Clara, Mrs. Robinson.”
“Nora,” she said, reaching out, taking Clara’s hand, and giving it a squeeze. “I’ve heard a great deal about you. I’m sorry you weren’t feeling well enough to join your mother and sister when they called yesterday but the rest has certainly done you good. You look stunning. Even more beautiful than I’d been led to believe.”
Clara blushed deeply and spotted her mother hovering at the edge of their circle. Before a comment about appearing overheated could leave her mother’s lips, Clara grabbed the reins of the conversation. “Thank you. Helen was kind enough to tell me all about your visit yesterday and how lovely your home is. I do wish I could have been there. She’s had nothing but wonderful things to say about everything.”
Dinner was announced suspending the conversation while the party made it’s way to the dining room. Oliver and Martha led the way with Clifton and Nora falling in behind them. Though Robert offered an arm to both sisters, Helen pretended not to see and hurried along at Nora’s side, insisting they needed to revisit a conversation they’d begun the day before. Clara and Robert exchanged silent smiles as she took his arm and they proceeded from the room together.
The addition of Mr. and Mrs. Robinson to the dinner party provided the extra social buffer necessary for Helen to more actively thwart her parents’ attempts to pair her with Robert at Clara’s expense. Martha was forced to make do with glares and a few choice words that she hoped her guests didn’t notice. Helen’s request to switch places with Clara so she could be closer to her new friend Nora would lead to a lecture later, but the immediate result was that Clara and Robert were seated next to one another through dinner and Clara was furthest from her mother instead of next to her.
At several points during the meal, Clara swore to herself she would find a way to thank Helen. Though her quiet conversation with Robert was frequently interrupted by the larger discussion at hand, both of them greatly appreciated the little bubble they were allowed. Clara would have to wait until the men and women sep
arated briefly after the meal to get to know Nora better, but something in the woman’s indulgent smiles and frequently raised eyebrows told her that Nora was as devoted to distracting her mother as Helen. She even found herself debating internally whether Clifton was truly enjoying her father’s monologue on his gardens or if he was humoring the older man for his cousin’s sake.
She had greater opportunity to speak with Nora after dinner while she endeavored to teach her hosts how to play whist. When the men joined them, Robert took a seat at Clara’s side to assist her as she quickly picked up the rules and playing strategies. Clara was a little surprised that her parents weren’t making more of an effort to divert Robert’s attention towards Helen. Periodically sneaking a look over at her mother, Clara would catch her focusing on the locket at her throat. Once, her eyes locked with Clara’s briefly before she hastily looked away. Unless she was mistaken, Clara thought she spotted the sheen of tears in the woman’s eyes.
When it was time for the guests to leave, the Robinsons and Helen were less subtle in their efforts to keep the girls’ parents preoccupied, allowing Robert and Clara to say their goodbyes in relative privacy. Robert raised Clara’s hand to his lips, smiling at the way she flushed and returned his gaze unblinkingly. “Do you think it would be too soon if I called on you again tomorrow?” he asked.
“Tomorrow?” she asked with a smile blooming on her face.
“Tomorrow,” he confirmed. He glanced over his shoulder briefly to see that the others’ focus remained elsewhere. “Perhaps you can show me around those gardens of your father’s.”
She nodded and he gave her hand a little squeeze before releasing it and bringing her back to the larger group. A few minutes later, their guests having departed, Clara tried to get Helen on her own to tell her of Robert’s promise to call the next day but Helen pretended not to hear her whispers, vanishing behind her bedroom door without even saying goodnight.
***
