by Kellyn Roth
“But all the happily ever after entails is just that—‘and they lived happily ever after.’ And then the story is over.” It wasn’t over, nor did happily ever after exist for most, but Claire wouldn’t shatter an eight-year-old’s dreams.
Alice shook her head. “It’s not really the end, though. They have to live and grow old and have babies. I like to think about it. It’s almost like Heaven in fairy tales—happily ever after, I meant.”
“Ah, I see.” That was an interesting way of seeing it, but she supposed it was true. Happily ever after assumed that the prince and princess never experienced any pain or suffering. That the world ceased to turn on its axis and cause the inevitable tragedies of its turning. “How did you come to think of that?”
Alice shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Ah, well. Childhood genius couldn’t be unraveled, or it wouldn’t be so shocking. “Where was I?”
“The prince and princess had met—again—and fallen in love,” Ivy said without missing a beat.
“Right. They wanted to marry, as people in love usually do. But the problem was that the prince had not a dime to his name, and the princess’s father didn’t approve. At all. In fact, he often voiced his disdain for that particular prince—and encouraged the princess to marry another.”
Ivy gasped. “Who she didn’t love?”
“Yes. The princess wasn’t interested, though. She only wanted her one true love—and she was determined to have him. So they eloped … ran off into the night like thieves and married in France, where it’s easier to do these things.”
Claire pressed her lips tightly together as emotions overwhelmed her, causing her throat to tighten and tears to well. She couldn’t finish this story. Not when two eight-year-olds, not at all disillusioned with the bright and hopeful world they lived in, depended on her.
“And then … then they lived happily ever after? In France?” Ivy suggested.
“Y-yes. That’s exactly what happened.”
Alice frowned. “Well, you don’t seem happy about it, Mummy!”
“I am! I’m so glad that the prince and the princess found happily ever after.” Claire eased Ivy off her lap and stood, forcing a bright smile to chase every shadow off her face. “Time for bed, darlings. Hop under the covers …”
There was time for reality when they were a little older, perhaps.
Mummy was sitting at her vanity putting her hair in a simple bun when Alice and Ivy ran in to claim kisses early the next morning. They almost never got to see her before work, but Alice had insisted.
Things had been so topsy-turvy lately that Alice appreciated a hug first thing in the morning.
This morning there was something different on Mummy’s vanity—a little box with ornate carvings on the outside.
“What’s that, Mummy?”
Mummy blinked. “Oh, that’s my jewelry box.”
“I’ve never seen it.” Alice reached for it, then drew back, hesitating. It was one of those no-touch treasures. “Can I look?”
Mummy opened the box to reveal a few trinkets, from necklaces to rings to bracelets. “I rarely wear them anymore, but I can’t bear to sell them. Aren’t they pretty?”
Alice carefully picked up an ornate diamond necklace. “Oh, Mummy! How lovely. Will I ever have anything so precious?”
“Perhaps.” Mummy mustered a tight smile. “But at any rate, someday when you are older, you will have some of mine.”
“And me?” Ivy asked.
“Yes, and my Ivy.” Mummy slid her arm around Ivy and pulled her in for another hug. “Now, I’m on my way out. Would you like to pick a ring for me?” Though she rarely wore necklaces or diamonds or anything like them, Mummy usually wore a simple ring on her right hand.
After sifting through the small collection of jewels, Alice gasped and pounced on a simple ring with a blue stone. “I love this one. Do wear it, Mummy!” She held the trinket out to her mother.
Mummy fairly ripped the ring away from her daughter. “Not that one.” She threw it back in the jewelry box as if it burned her hand.
Alice jerked back and stared at her mother for a minute before peering into the box. “Is it a … I mean, what’s wrong with it, Mummy?”
“Nothing. It’s my birthstone, actually. Topaz.” Mummy stood and walked to her wardrobe only to open the doors and remove nothing.
Ivy picked up the small gold band and turned it over in her hand. “Don’t you like topazes? I think they’re pretty.”
“It just reminds me of something.” Mummy sighed and turned to face them. “I’m sorry if I was harsh, Alice. I didn’t even remember that I’d saved that ring. I only got the box down because I was looking for a different one. Why … why don’t you take it? I’ll get you a chain, and you can wear it around your neck. I have no use for it.”
She crossed the room and reached into her jewelry box. “Here. Ivy can have this one. It’s a man’s ring, but it’s not heavy. And the stone is a garnet, which is your birthstone.”
Ivy clapped her hands together. “Thank you, Mummy.”
Alice nodded, not nearly as excited as Ivy but still appreciative of the gift. “I’d like that.”
“Here, I think I have two chains …”
After the rings were hanging around Alice’s and Ivy’s necks, Mummy kissed both their foreheads. “I have to go now. It’s going to be a busy day, darlings, but I’ll see you in the evening.”
Chapter Six
Claire’s dress shop stood only a few blocks over, so the fact that she didn’t own a carriage wasn’t a problem. If she left before it was light, she’d have Jameson, their manservant, walk her to work—and if it was close to dark and she had yet to return, he would sometimes come and walk back with her.
But, in general, she encouraged him to stay with Nettie and the girls. Her own safety was a secondary concern, and it didn’t seem right to leave a household of women without protection. She’d be fine. Her dress shop was in a reputable area, and the walk home wasn’t a particularly treacherous one.
That was definitely a blessing, if she believed in those. Which she didn’t. But it indicated good luck.
This morning, Claire had told Jameson not to fetch her, being sure she’d leave early. Although she hadn’t, when she arrived back at her house, she was glad she’d insisted he remain there.
Outside stood a majestic carriage with a matching pair of bays jingling their harnesses. She half-closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep the anxiety at bay. She would not panic. It was nothing.
Never mind that no one ever came to visit her. Never mind that the girls and Nettie were alone—though, at least Jameson was home. Never mind that Alice had been asking all sorts of questions and that she had more information than ever before about her father.
Heaven help her. There were so many things to mind that, in that moment, Claire whispered the first prayer she had in years. “Dear Lord, let everything be all right.”
Surely she was overreacting. She often did as a result of all the things that had happened when she was a young girl that made it difficult for her to trust, to embrace new situations.
To forgive.
Forgiveness was so terribly hard. She thought she was functional at least, but that didn’t mean she had moved on or healed.
She picked up her pace as she hurried down the pavement, but she didn’t run. She wouldn’t give the mysterious carriage the satisfaction of worrying her that much. She was still a lady. She would always and forever be a lady, even if it was hard to see sometimes.
The carriage was empty, though a driver sat at the top and glared down at her as if he didn’t trust her for a minute. She probably looked a bit anxious, a bit wild, and she didn’t blame him.
Deep breaths. Calm down. It’s going to be all right, Claire.
She opened the door for herself and stepped in. Jameson was standing in the hall, looking at a loss. She stepped forward.
“Whose carriage is that?” Her voice was even an
d slow, surprisingly so. She’d expected it to tremble, to give away her fears, but no, it was everything a lady’s voice should be.
Regulated. In control. Unworried.
“Mr. Steven Parker. He’s back.” Jameson shrugged. “I told him you weren’t home, but he insisted he would wait. He was determined, and I didn’t want to use force, miss … should I have?”
“No, Jameson. That’s all right.” Claire forced herself not to do what she wanted to do, which was rub her forehead and sigh. At least it was just Steven again. It could have been anyone. But it hadn’t been. “I’ll see him. Is he in the drawing room?”
“Yes, miss. He’s been there for about half an hour—but he said he would wait three hours if he must. He tells me he has nowhere to go and must speak to you.”
Claire did sigh then. Try to pry all her secrets out from their hiding places, he meant. He wouldn’t let her be until he knew everything. She’d been friends with Steven Parker since they were small children, and he was the soul of persistence.
Whether talking her into an impromptu picnic, taking a ride in a rickety boat on a pond at Pearlbelle Park, or even convincing her to forgive him while she sat wet and miserable on the bank, he always won. He was too charming, too clever, and too disarming.
Yet she didn’t like Steven Parker. Not really. Well, she did, but another part of her disliked him greatly. He was beyond annoying sometimes. More often than not, actually.
And he would get her to tell him everything if she wasn’t very, very careful.
When she entered the drawing room, he was leaning against the mantel looking calm and collected, but he started as she entered the room.
That was new. Steven Parker was almost never nervous. She couldn’t remember a time where he hadn’t been controlled and gentlemanly.
He was a heartbreaker. Claire wasn’t really a great admirer of beards, but his was neat and looked right on him. He had dark eyes, sharp eyes, almost like Alice’s.
Yes, Mr. Parker was a handsome man. He probably had half a dozen women chasing him even now that he no longer had a grand fortune like Mr. Knight.
He’d only been married for about a year before his wife died, but she didn’t doubt that he’d made use of the “poor widower with a daughter” line since.
Claire took in a deep breath. “Hello, Mr. Parker. How are you this evening?”
He smiled easily and stepped toward her. She stepped back. He would not get close to her, comfort her, or do anything of the sort. Claire needed to keep all contact minimal. It was best that way. She couldn’t bear the thought of his finding out what had happened. She just couldn’t.
“I’m doing well.” He stopped where he was, but that inexplicable smile remained in place. He definitely wanted her to like him. Definitely wanted to find something out.
Dangerous. He was dangerous. A treacherous addition to her life.
Oh, how had he found her in the first place?
“Why … why are you here?” Might as well begin with what she wanted to know, with what she must know. She believed in honesty, and it often disarmed people. Women who were honest and upfront shocked men, and they couldn’t resist being truthful in return.
He didn’t seem shocked, though. He was used to her. Always had been.
But she shook off her worries and focused on his answer.
“I came to see you,” Mr. Parker said. “I thought we hadn’t finished our conversation last time, even though you wanted it to be finished. You’re probably mad at me for coming, but you must see that I had to. It was necessary. If I didn’t come, you might have … I don’t know what might happen to you, Claire. Frankly, you seem to be on a treacherous precipice.”
“I’ve been on a dangerous precipice for years, Steven.” There. She’d return her first name with his this time. It wasn’t proper, it wasn’t the tone she wanted to set, but it was truthful. It was how she thought of him most of the time—except when she forced herself to do otherwise.
Being childhood friends seemed to do that, after all. She believed that childhood friends could only be childhood friends when they were children, and that after that, they had best adjust to the idea of being adults, but … still.
She would call him by his first name tonight. And she would expect honesty in return.
Would he betray her? It was always possible. Who knew? After all, men changed. Perhaps he had done so enough that betrayal was in his heart.
But no. He didn’t seem like the type.
His expression was genuinely worried now. “I’ve noticed.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s talk, Claire. I’m curious to know how you managed to get to the point where you … have fallen to this level. Yes, I’ll call it a fall. After all, you can’t expect it to be called anything less than that. I don’t understand what happened! How you … how you didn’t work things out. You’ve always been so good at working things out, Claire.”
Yes, she had. Sometimes to her detriment. She was a problem-solver and always had been. But she was in a situation beyond problem-solving, and she didn’t live her life for herself anymore. There were other concerns—two primary concerns, which had changed her life in many ways.
“I’ll never be the same, Steven. I’m stuck in a world where everything is changed, without a possibility to make it better. But, truthfully, I don’t mind. I am proud of the life I have built … the dress shop, a safe place for my children …”
Steven’s eyes darkened, looking like two black warnings in that handsome face. “What makes you think it’s safe, Claire? It’s clearly not—quite the reverse of that. You’re raising two children in a dangerous, insane way. Why, at any moment, you stand to lose everything. What if you lose your clientele? Surely, if you don’t have a way to support your children, things would go horribly wrong …” His voice trailed off. “Besides, have you thought about their future?”
Claire swallowed. Had she thought about it? Constantly. It was the ever-present worry behind her life, causing her to push herself as far as she could to be a wonderful mother even when it seemed impossible to do so. What would happen if they arrived at a time when Alice and Ivy could no longer be cared for?
“Yes. Of course, I have thought about the future. I’ve thought about a lot of things. Now, at present, there’s no way out, but, if I could save up enough money, and if I were to somehow find a way to move somewhere … Well, Steven, at least I could present myself as a respectable middle-class widow. I don’t know how it would work out exactly, but there must be a way to give Alice and Ivy the future they deserve—even as I am.”
After all, hundreds upon hundreds of women had fallen. Where did they go? She wasn’t sure. But they all couldn’t just die or disappear. Many of them had to find a way to survive—and for many of them, that had to include a way for their children to survive.
So it could be done. It must be done. She only had to find the way.
Steven sighed. “It seems risky. I strongly feel that something must be done immediately, while they are still young, to make things secure for them. Anything could happen. Which is why … tonight I’ve come to you with a suggestion.”
Claire raised her eyebrows. “And what would that be?”
“I want to repeat my proposal of marriage.”
This man would be the death of her.
“I’m not sure what to think of that expression.” He was far too suave for a man who had just asked a woman to marry him. “Claire. Really. Say something.”
“You didn’t give me enough time. I would need at least a few more days. I … I don’t know what to say.”
“As proven by your silence.” He laughed. “That could also mean you have something to say but are afraid it would be rude, I suppose.”
She offered a bit of a smile, hoping it would lighten the mood. “I suppose. This is all so sudden. What … how did you come to think of it anyway?”
“Well, wouldn’t that solve everything?” He cocked his head. “You’d have a husband, the girls would have a
father, my child would have a mother.” Steven stepped forward, hand extended, as if he actually expected her to take it. “We could go away somewhere. That way we wouldn’t … wouldn’t risk any further scandal. Just to Bath or even Scotland. Or to the Continent, if you’d like.”
“But … you …” How did one phrase this delicately? “Surely, in your current state, you’re not looking to add a family to your list of responsibilities.”
He flushed. “I could support you. I have some experience with business, and I have a small sum of my own. I can be frugal, and I know you have a bit put away.”
Heat brewed under her cheeks. “How do you know?”
He blinked as if that were an unusual question. “I wanted to see how you were doing, so I inquired at your bank.”
Claire swallowed. “They let you have that information?”
He raised his eyebrows. “For the right price.”
Fury rose in her chest. He had no right. She wasn’t his, never had been, and he couldn’t come in and take control. He wouldn’t. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”
“I know you probably consider it a breach of trust, but I had to know that there was no immediate danger. I’m not about to let you starve, Claire.”
“But I won’t starve.” At least, not unless her secret got out. Which he was aiding simply by his presence, by his familiarity, by his concern.
“I know that.” He used the same tone when he soothed horses.
He and his horses.
“But I had to be sure. I should’ve trusted you, perhaps, to know what you’re about, but you can be so dashed proud, Claire. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if you’re in control or just unwilling to ask for help.”
Fair enough. But that still didn’t give him any right to interfere as he had.
He sighed and shook his head. “Let’s not get distracted, though. You know you should marry me. What other recourse have you for the girls?”
Claire swallowed. She’d been thinking about that all day. “I actually have a solution.”
Plainly frustrated with her, he ran his hands through his hair, looking just like the messy little boy she’d always known. “And what would that be?”
