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C lara stood in the hall, resting her hand on the chair railing—a welcome guide to the library. Little could she do, but hide from pity.

Warm breath shot into her ear, she jumped. “Christian be down in your daddy’s study,” Lewis whispered.

“He’s here?” Her heart pulsed hard against her chest. Why hadn’t someone warned her?

“Yes, Miss Clara.”

“Take me down, please. Take me to him.” How she wanted to hear his voice again.

“Now I tell you ‘cause I figured you wanted to know. Your Pa tells me not to bother them.”

“Am I presentable?” Though pointless, she considered finding a mirror.

“You always like a fresh-cut flower.”

“I’ll make sure you aren’t to blame. You can tell Father I heard Christian’s voice.” Why hadn’t he called her sooner? “Take me. Now please.”

He led her down the broad stair, stepping softly on the carpet. Too slow. They turned a long corner down a hall then stopped. Lewis placed her hand on the door knob and backed away and left her alone. Voices bit back and forth. Father was angry. She covered her mouth with a hand and waited.

“I won’t marry her. ”

What? No. He didn’t say it... Clara grip tightened around her middle.

“You signed an agreement. I can sue you.”

Silence. This couldn’t be happening.

“Give it more time. Wait another week before making this decision. One more week. See what the doctor says.”

The door gave way before her, a brush of wind stroked her face. “Clara. What are you doing here? Get back to your room.”

“Christian?” She waited for him to take her in his arms.

“What are you talking about? He isn’t here.”

How dare he try to trick her! “Yes, he is. I heard him.”

“Clara.” Christian’s voice opened her heart.

“Where have you been? Why have you not come to see me?” She needed answers. She needed him. She reached out for his hand.

“Clara, I beg you. Release me from our engagement.” His voice quaked as if afraid of her. Why? Why did he fear her? It made no sense.

She moved forward, searching with her hands. Christian’s long fingers found hers, finally, finally. He dropped them and she reached for him again. She met empty air. He’d stepped back.

“Why?” She lifted the ring from beneath her shawl. “You promised you love me.”

“Sometimes, love—listen, this hasn’t been easy for me either.” He sounded angry. “To think that my horse caused your accident. I haven’t been able to forgive myself.”

“I forgive you.” She could do nothing else.

“No. You shouldn’t.”

She reached for his jacket, laid her hands on his chest. He stepped back again, as though her touch was poisonous. Something fell from her father’s desk .

She dropped her hands, uncertain. “Don’t you love me?” Her words sounded like a weak child’s. Had she been nothing but a business deal? Surely not. Father caught her elbow and drew her close.

“Not enough.” Christian mumbled.

Not enough... the words stabbed like a dagger. “Then...I release you.” Her voice quivered. She focused on breathing. No. He would surely come to his senses after seeing her again. Hearing of her willingness to forgive. If only she could...

“You don’t have to do that, Clara.” Her father huffed. “Look here, what are you doing to her. Do you realize the setback you are causing my poor child?”

“I will not discomfort you any further.”

What? Was it really over? His voice, she’d dreamt of it since her accident. Longed for it. Needed it to quiet the endless assault of fear. Did he not know what he meant to her?

Christian left the room. His riding boots clipped down the hall. A door slammed.

She broke from her father’s embrace and ran after him.

She might be foolish, who cared? He wasn’t gone forever.

Couldn’t be. She smacked her hip on the cloak table in the foyer ignoring the pain as she shot through the door, sightless hands sweeping the space before her.

He’d be at the stables, of course. Mother never allowed hitching at the front.

She ran roughly in the right direction. Her father’s voice boomed after her.

“Christian!” Emotion squeezed her effort. She ran into soft flesh and hard leather, her lip stung, a warm drip slid down her chin. Pain and blood.

“Good night, Clara! What are you doing?” Christian leapt from his horse and stood at her side, pressing a handkerchief into her hand .

She shoved him away. “You said you’d do anything for me. Anything. I said the same thing. What if I had married you and this happened? Would you have ceased to care?”

Silence.

“Don’t stand there. Talk to me!” If only she could see his face.

“It’s over.” He impatiently sighed. “You have released me, Clara, and I need to go.”

“What if you were blinded? I would not toss you aside. Never would consider it. Have you never truly loved me?” Not exactly how she planned to reverse her fortune.

“No, Clara. I never loved you. I’m sorry.”

She jerked the ring from its chain and threw it to the dust. “I don’t love you either.” If she could have seen the thing, she would have trod hard on the bauble.

Her father took her hand and began pulling her back to the house. She shouted, “I’ll burn the letters too, unless you want fodder for a future conquest? I’ll send those post haste.”

A sob locked her throat. She tasted the salt from her own tears, or was it blood? This was the death of everything.

Her father lifted her in his arms. “I could have saved the engagement if you hadn’t interfered.”

More guilt. More shame.

His voice boomed through the foyer. “Jenny! Jenny!” He set her on a chair.

Pattering feet sped towards them. “What happened?” Lucy. Her thin arms wrapped Clara’s waist. “Oh, Clara.”

“Massah?”

“Clean her up.”

“Clara-girl, let me see.” Jenny’s calloused hands lifted her chin. “Dat man, dat man. He gonna kill this chile.”

All she could do was shake her head. Words wouldn’t come.

Lucy led her to the kitchen chair. “Your lip is bleeding. ”

A wet cloth pressed her lips, dabbed her chin. Her stomach lurched.

“NO DAUGHTER OF MINE behaves like a...like a wild, desperate animal. I don’t care who it is or what was happening. Why would he want to come back to you now? You’ve ruined everything. After a display like that, I shouldn’t wonder if he ignored our acquaintance forever.”

Mother’s words. She reeled at their cruelty.

Lucy spoke in her quiet voice. “Why should it matter if you continued his acquaintance? It’s altogether hopeless. There would always be a strain between us.”

At least Lucy spoke cold sense. Clara’s stomach remained sour. The spring water her mother insisted she take did little to make it secure. She pushed her body farther into her bed. She draped an arm over her eyes to cork the tears. Her face was raw and her lip stung and throbbed.

“Take another glass.” A trickle filled the glass. “Marie, be sure that she does.”

The clink of glass on glass, then glass to lip. Clara reached for the stem.

“You’ve spilled,” Marie said.

“I don’t care.”

“Marie is not a slave, Clara. Speak with a trifle more respect.” Mother patted her hand.

Sickening, childish pity. Clara bit her lip. A broken heart isn’t a child’s scrape.

“I’ll take care of her, Mother. It’s Marie’s afternoon off.” Lucy drew a chair by her side .

“Very well. Don’t let her leave this room. I’ll have what little ice we have remaining sent up.” Mother and Marie left, but the truth was Mother had left a long time ago. When the accident happened.

But Lucy stayed. Perhaps she cared after all? Lucy stroked Clara’s head. “Try to sleep, will you? I won’t make you drink anymore of this. Here, I’ll read to you. Shakespeare always quiets the mind.”

“Thank you...” Clara’s head pounded. She felt for the ring, a habit of the many recent dark days she’d endured. Now forever gone.

“I KNOW—SHE CAN JOIN the Shaker community. They’ll take anyone.” Alice murmured from her bed in the room. They thought she was asleep. She had woken minutes ago when they’d noisily changed for bed.

Water splashed at the washstand. The swish of hairbrushes stroked for several minutes.

“That’s not very funny, Alice.”

“It’s brilliant. She’ll never marry like that, they don’t allow it anyway. They’d find some job for her to do, plus they’ll give her room and board until she dies. That way she won’t always be tripping around here when this place is mine.

“You don’t inherit, she does,” Lucy whispered. “Well, her husband will.”

“I don’t see it working out that way. And if she’s here, she’ll hold us back. Don’t you see? Men don’t want to marry a woman with a spinster tag-along.”

“I think we have time before we need to be concerned about that. She’s only nineteen. I pray she regains her sight, as should you.”

“Well of course I do, I’m not a complete heathen.”

“Are you sure you’re going with the jasper green for the ball?” Lucy, so apt at changing topics.

“Quite sure. ”

“When you’re ready to surrender, let me know.” Lucy laughed.

“I look better in jasper than you do. Stick with the topaz. It suits your pale complexion.”

Clara’s still position grew rock hard. She needed to roll over, but didn’t want them to find out she’d heard everything. Perhaps it would do Alice good to be found out. Not that it would shame her. Alice lived only for Alice.

Her arm was numb, and still, they rambled on about clothing and patterns. What time was it? Were the lamps turned down? Fury filled her. She would show them that blindness had nothing to do with her beauty.

In the morning, she would beg to be fitted. Spend every last dime she’d saved on a gown the Queen of England would envy. Attracting a husband would not be as difficult as Alice said.

“Turn out the light, Lucy. I’m tired.”

“I’ve one more chapter.”

“Go to the library if you must stay up.”

“I’d rather not.” I’m comfortable right here.

Clara didn’t move until she heard the oil lamp’s quiet click and Lucy’s even breathing. She rolled over and rubbed her numb arm. Royal blue suited her best. Of course, she’d wear the sapphires from her grandmother, her throat and arms bare...

Irresistible.