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“I did not know before that you ever walked this way.”

—Pride and Prejudice

WHEN CLARA AND Georgiana didn’t see Benj for the next week, Clara didn’t dare mention his absence, at least out loud. That didn’t mean she could stop thinking about him, but she wouldn’t tell anyone that, not even Georgiana.

Once in passing, Georgiana had mentioned Benj sometimes had to leave on business.

What business, she didn’t know—yet Clara found herself craving any information to understand him better.

Georgiana occasionally offered a few details about him here or there, all of which Clara devoured, but she didn’t dare ask too many questions.

Clara sat curled up in the small gazebo on the unusually large grounds of Darcy’s townhome.

This was her favorite spot, and she waited there for Georgiana to come home from riding with Lord Edling in his phaeton in the park.

The view in front of her boasted a beautiful scene of old, mature trees and several trimmed hedges that adorned the well-manicured lawn.

Next to her sat one of Mrs. Augustin’s strawberry tarts—they’d become an almost daily treat.

She was glad she had heeded Benj’s advice when it came to the pastries.

It wasn’t chilly, but Clara pulled her shawl tightly around her. If he kept up with this persistence, it appeared Lord Edling wasn’t going to exit their daily lives anytime soon. Soon enough, everyone would assume Georgiana and Lord Edling were all but engaged.

Engaged .

What an oppressive word. Clara took a bite of her tart, grateful that independence was her privilege at present. But with Georgiana gone with a beau, and the colonel’s words still in her mind from last week, she was met with a stark realization—independence often meant loneliness.

And loneliness meant ample time to review the past few weeks.

Seeing Benj just after leaving Mr. Stockton had thrown her mind into a surge of confusion about what she really desired. And then his story about the ivory—she’d almost wanted to explain to him the terrible predicament she was in.

But no one could know. She’d never shared her problems with anyone.

Her father and her mother were always private, and she followed in their custom. Emotion had never been her default, and she wondered at it. So many girls she knew spoke with excitement, with passion. With hopes and dreams, too.

From a very young age, any kind of emotional display was squashed down by both her parents. She’d never seen her mother cry, so when she passed away, Clara didn’t allow herself any tears either. And then she’d maintained the same strictness when her husband had passed, and most recently her father.

All of those influences now gone from her life, she had thought the feeling she felt was freedom. But perhaps it was just relief.

Ever since she’d met Benj, with his easy manner and instant conversation, it was like a different side of herself emerged. This side surprised her, and most definitely scared her.

Before she realized it, she had only one bite of the tart left. If only her life could be as well-packaged and tidy as the little pastry with its perfect amount of preserves piled atop the crust.

But life was messier than that.

THE NEXT MORNING, Clara sat across from Georgiana in their usual postures, herself stitching and Georgiana practicing at her beloved instrument.

“I think we should grab our shawls,” Clara said, casting aside her hoop and basket. “It’s far too perfect a day not to enjoy it.”

Georgiana lifted her hands from the piano. “A fantastic notion. Where to?”

The young ladies made their way to the vestibule. “I haven’t a particular place in mind. I just know my limbs could benefit from a walk.”

“Well, if you are up for it, how about the Serpentine? I’ve told Mrs. Augustin to keep all the bread scraps in a bag so we can feed the ducks.”

“Sounds marvelous,” Clara said.

“Let me go fetch them.” Georgiana took the servants’ stairs down to the kitchen.

Clara glanced at herself in the mirror as she donned her curved straw bonnet.

Was it just her mind, or did her eyes truly seem weary?

Mr. Stockton had finally responded to her yesterday with information from her creditors, and their words could only be classified as grim.

In truth, her main motive for walking was trying to get her mind off his words.

Sitting here made her ruminate on her dismal future.

Unless she could figure out a viable solution, soon she’d lose her properties and the independence she’d come to enjoy. Had her creditors all conspired together to call the debts at the same time? It seemed more than cruel.

“Here we are,” Georgiana said, toting two sacks of bread over her shoulder as though she were Father Christmas.

“There better be a lot of birds.” Clara took one of the large parcels from her friend.

“Indeed. Mrs. Augustin really took my request seriously.”

Clara laughed, and the girls linked arms as they headed down the steps.

“Ah, nature and fresh air.” She flung her arms out wide.

“There really is nothing like freedom,” Georgiana said, as they crossed the street and walked the few blocks toward Hyde Park.

“I’d have to agree,” Clara said, knowing her friend had hit too close on the subject.

“Of course you do. I’m often so grateful for our friendship and that you agreed to come stay with me. With you as such a venerable widow and all.” Georgiana smiled at her. “I feel like I can go anywhere! It’s so liberating.”

“Ah, so you only like me because I am a widow?” Clara raised a brow toward her friend. They were making good time on the dirt walking path, and Clara wanted to steer them away from where the men usually rode their horses. They didn’t need men in their outing today.

“Well, no, of course not.” Georgiana’s stacked curls shook vehemently.

“No, you are a very good example to me in many ways. Propriety, socialization, proper breeding—but your widowhood is a rather brilliant factor to our friendship.” She swallowed.

“Forgive me if that was indelicate concerning your situation.”

Clara had to laugh at this. “No, I understand what you mean. And our time together has benefitted me as well. I like your company.” She felt she owed the girl some honesty. “And it’s allowed me to rent out my properties, which is a lovely bonus.”

“Oh, yes of course. You are so smart that way.”

If only Clara’s smarts were enough to save her future.

Georgiana tugged on her sack of bread. “See, this is a perfect situation.”

Clara nodded and could see the edge of the little lake up ahead. “If it’s so perfect, then you aren’t that eager to change it, are you?” Clara raised a brow and offered a teasing smile. They both knew the change that would likely come if Lord Edling officially courted her.

“Well, you see . . .” Georgiana trailed off. Just yesterday, they’d been at another dinner, and Lord Edling’s intentions seemed even more clear. Clara noticed her friend continued to chew on her bottom lip. “Can I ask you something, Clara?”

“Of course.”

The wind had picked up, and she checked her bonnet strings nervously. “What I mean, Clara, is . . . did being married make you feel free?”

Clara understood the girl’s question maybe more than her charge did. She, too, had felt cooped up her whole life, beholden to others’ wishes and constantly watched, guarded, and scrutinized. But marriage had had its difficulties—

“In some ways, yes,” she said. “But there are obligations in marriage you will be expected to attend to.”

Georgiana nodded. “I know you are right. I just so want to break free from what I’ve been doing for so many years.

Dipping into Society a little but never really making any progress.

My life feels like it’s never going to change.

Like a hackney driver who makes the same rounds with the same customers day after day. ”

“So, is your biggest desire to be free? To be your own master?”

They’d made it to the water’s edge, and Georgiana opened the sack, inserted her hand, and then tossed the first fistful out.

“Yes,” she said, “And . . . sometimes no.”

Clara followed suit, eyeing her friend. She didn’t have to say anything before Georgiana continued. “We’ve talked about him a little, but you must have noticed my regard for Lord Edling these past weeks.”

Clara focused on another handful of breadcrumbs. “I have noticed what seems like a mutual attachment.”

“You do think it’s mutual?” Georgiana’s shoulders lifted as she gave a little smirk of a smile. “You haven’t said much on the subject, so I didn’t know if I was just making things up in my mind, or . . .”

Georgiana’s words drifted off, and Clara knew she should say something, but her own heart pulled in two directions.

She wanted Georgiana’s happiness, and Lord Edling, thus far, seemed a very agreeable match.

For those reasons alone she should encourage her to continue.

But how could one be sure he would do right by her?

And the selfish part of her remembered that if it did lead to marriage, she’d lose her position.

No newlywed kept their widowed friend around for companionship.

It would be expected she would return to her own holdings, but she wondered if she’d have to sell them soon.

Never once had Clara encouraged anyone to follow their heart in a romantic match.

Her parents hadn’t done it. She’d had very few friends before she married, and she certainly hadn’t married because of romance.

She’d always told herself there was no value in it.

Involving love just made people weak and illogical.

She glanced across the pond, and her eyes caught on a couple. The man possessed dark, short hair and a stature similar to the colonel. On his arm, a young lady smiled and looked up at him.