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She smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment and not a comment on my age. When you are finished reading, I need to talk with you privately.”

“Of course.” Daniel poured himself another cup of tea and watched Clara sip hers. So elegant in every movement. Not the awkward spectacle she thought herself to be.

Her hair slipped from a loose bun, but she didn’t hasten to fix it. Just as well, it suited her soft complexion. Her dark blue gown wasn’t as rich as her others, but it suited her too. Modest contentment that she didn’t feel but desired to put on.

Losh, he had a propensity to analyze the most unimportant things. “I had better read you those letters before we lose our privacy.”

She nodded with a quiet “Yes.” She pulled the two missives from her apron pocket.

He took them and slipped his finger beneath the seal. She recoiled from the sound, pulled a pillow to her lap and held tight. What did she expect them to contain? “Are you ready to hear them?” Was he?

She shook her head. “No. I almost burned them before you came.”

Certainly not expecting good news. “If you need to wait, I will come again.”

“It will plague me if I do not know. There will be no sleep, and God knows I need some time away from the darkness. ”

“Very well.”

The first letter was short. A shame, coming from one’s own mother. But hadn’t his own mother been too busy to write often?

My Dear Clara,

We miss you in England, especially your Grandmother who sends her love. Your father has been busy with business and gun collecting. We visit the theatre tomorrow and we shall think of you, of course. You were always fond of Much Ado About Nothing .

I do hope the slaves have not given any trouble.

All my love,

Mother

And that was it. The large loopy handwriting had filled the page to seem as if it were long enough, therefore sufficient. It had only taken a moment to read. For a mother to write such nothingness and pay for it to be sent overseas? Seemed strange.

But it was not his place to judge. She had signed “All my love.” He hoped she meant it. The placid look on Clara’s face told him of her indifference to the slight letter. “Shall I go on?”

“Is there more to mother’s letter?”

“Ah, no. There isn’t.” Clara didn’t seem surprised.

“Lucy’s, please.”

“I believe she wrote a novel while away. I don’t believe I’ve ever received a letter as thick as this. She must care about you a great deal.”

Clara opened her mouth to speak, but her chin only quivered. She covered it momentarily with her handkerchief and put on her stoic face.

He read through the pleasantries, the daily dealings of the wealthy life of London, the balls, the theatre, the suppers. Three pages of detailed descriptions. The fourth page offered a hint of other things, of personal nature. Clara had all but turned her head from him as he read .

You must forgive our parents, Clara. While they did not do right by you keeping you from your former life, I do believe you would be miserable here.

There’s so much you would miss. It is difficult to speak of these things, but I find the distance makes it easier.

However, I miss you with all my heart and would do anything to take away what happened at the ball the night before we left.

Belle has been called many names. I think “snake” is my best description.

Even so, the loss of your engagement was not her doing.

Nor is the pending courtship between him and myself.

I did not desire it in the beginning, but father has shown me how it will benefit the family to do so, and will please them greatly.

In my heart, I know that it is fortune that pleases our parents. Christian’s attentions have been difficult to receive, but I assure you, Clara, he grieves your loss. I wonder if the fortune pleases his father as well?

I have not made my decision yet, pray for me Clara. I do not want you forever angry with me if I do marry him, but I do not know if it is true wisdom to marry for finances. Mother says I’ll be glad of it in the end, but you know, I’ve rarely seen her truly happy.

Now is the time for the hardest news of all, though our parents have not announced it to Alice and me yet.

I feel I must give you fair warning. Mother has demanded of Father to stay in London.

Grandmother is aging. She also says that she’s given the best of her youth to the American frontier and desires to remain here.

Father considers selling the farm. He will sell if I do not marry Christian.

He plans to give him half the land and continue to profit from tobacco and horses. ..”

Daniel paused to glance at Clara. Her stoic face had melted. He continued, softening his voice.

Lucy wrote the same apologies as she had earlier in the letter. The girl needed permission from her older sister to be courted by Christian. What a strange triangle. The deep pain was obvious from Clara’s expression .

The thick letter dwindled until he came to the final page, which was a letter unto itself.

“I have urgent news. It has just been discovered that Alice is with child. She is very ill. It is certain that we will remain in London for another year. I don’t know when I shall see you again...”

Daniel slowed as he read ahead. He glanced at Clara again.

Tears wet her face. Dear God, so much dreadful news from her own family.

After scanning ahead quickly, he dared not read the final paragraphs aloud.

They would crush her. The letter had wounded her enough.

Perhaps she would have been right to burn it and not know what the rest contained. Poor woman. His heart hurt for her.

He folded the letters and handed them back. She did exactly that. Without difficulty, she walked the few paces to the fire screen and pitched them over. The fire licked higher forever erasing the words that might be her undoing.

“Clara.” He used her first name without meaning to. “I will pray for you.” He found her hand and stroked the back of it—like he’d done half the day for Old Ruby who lived alone five miles out. “You should know that men of honor do exist. There are those who would not abandon you.”

“Would you call my father a man of honor? My family was wrong to leave me.”

“Yes, very likely.”

“You do not disagree?”

“It is obvious.”

“What should I do, Reverend?”

“Forgive them. All of them.”

“They have not asked for it.”

“That’s one of the hardest things to do. Forgiving without expectation of justice.”

“Have you forgiven in such a manner before?” He immediately recalled the thoughtless word he’d overheard .

Mrs. Ramshaw slipped in and perched on the other side of the sofa. “What a thing to ask the Reverend, Clara!”

Had he? Had he forgiven Effie—and the ones who were willing to side with money instead of truth? Daniel rose to go. “We were merely conversing, Mrs. Ramshaw. No harm done.”

“I daresay you do enjoy a good debate. Clara, thank Reverend Merrick for reading to you this evening.”

“Thank you, Reverend.”

Her eyes shimmered, her green eyes brilliant.

He should have read her the rest of the letter.

He knew that now. Shame on him for keeping it from her!

That wasn’t his decision to make. She deserved the full truth and let God deal with her as He would.

What did he think, that he was God? Or had it been Providential that he prevent her further pain?

He'd pray on it. But the depth of his guilt betrayed the answer. “I will come read to you again tomorrow.”

Without comment, Clara turned away from him and climbed the open stairway like an apparition, ghostly white and seeing into nothing. He watched as she disappeared from sight. Silent, sad.

Mrs. Ramshaw faced him. “If you come so often, people might think you are courting her. You had better wait until next Sunday, if you will. In the meantime, stay another hour, will you? We have a slave to set free.”

A warm sense of danger spread across his chest. He thought he knew how to set men free—but did he really?