hawk.
The redhead winked before she carried the rest of the poached eggs back to the buffet table and stood beside it, spine straight and chin demurely lowered. The other maid joined her. They would remain in the drawing room throughout the entirety of breakfast, waiting to be called upon if someone wanted seconds or thirds. Until then it was their job to be neither seen nor heard.
“Well,” said Lady Irene as she cut into her poached egg. Yolk ran over the edge of her toast, staining it a deep yellow. “Now that we are all here I suppose I should share my happy news.”
Clara looked up from her plate in time to catch Gabriella and Henrietta exchange a smirking glance. The muscles in her stomach tightened, just like they had when she was a child and Lady Irene had sat her down in the parlor.
“What happy news is that, Lady Stepmother?”
Lady Irene took her time in answering, no doubt drawing pleasure from making Clara wait. Like a cat, she enjoyed playing with her food before she ate it. The more the food struggled the longer she played.
Too tense to eat Clara sat with her hands clenched tightly in her lap, using all the inner-strength she possessed to make herself appear outwardly calm even as her mind whirled with one dark possibility after another.
Was she finally going to be sent away?
Was Agnes going to be let go?
Was Poppy?
Other than her two dearest friends, Clara couldn’t think of anything else her stepmother could take from her that she hadn’t already. Buttercup had been sold off years ago. Her bedroom now belonged to Henrietta. Her parent’s belongings had been dispersed far and wide. What else was left?
“Oh just go on and tell her,” Gabriella urged, her eyes burning with a vindictive gleam Clara recognized all too well. Of her two stepsisters Gabriella was by far the most malicious. Every year her hate of Clara seemed to larger and more twisted no matter what Clara did – or did not – do. She didn’t know the source of her stepsister’s wrath, only that Gabriella was determined to make Clara’s life as miserable as she possibly could.
“Very well.” Deliberately setting her fork aside, Lady Irene sat straighter in her chair and smiled a serpent’s cold, tight-lipped smile. “Clara, I have found you a husband.”
CHAPTER NINE
Clara, I have found you a husband.
I have found you a husband.
A husband…
A husband…
A husband…
Seconds that felt more like hours passed in the blink of an eye as Clara sat frozen in her chair, Lady Irene’s voice playing through her head on an endless loop. Had she really been so naïve as to think there was nothing else her stepmother could take from her?
Her gaze flew to Poppy who looked just as stunned as she felt. The maid shook her head from side to side as two bright splotches of anger settled high on her cheeks. ‘Breathe’ she mouthed.
Clara’s lungs burned as she filled them with air.
“I – I do not understand,” she managed to choke out.
Lady Irene lifted one brow. “Did I stutter or otherwise make myself unclear?”
“I heard you perfectly fine Mother,” said Gabriella.
“As did I,” said Henrietta, although she did not look nearly as pleased as her mother and sister. After a covert glance at Clara she began to eat her breakfast in hasty gulps, effectively removing herself from the conversation.
“You needn’t look so dismayed, dear. This is a good thing. It wasn’t as if you were planning on living at Windmere for the rest of your life, were you? Oh you were ,” Lady Irene said, clucking her tongue in faux sympathy when all of the blood drained from Clara’s face. “What a silly little pigeon you are.”
Gabriella snickered under her breath while Clara’s stomach fell all the way down to her toes. She should have known her stepmother would plan something like this. It was the only way to ensure she could claim Windmere as her own once and for all. For even though she’d dressed Clara in
The redhead winked before she carried the rest of the poached eggs back to the buffet table and stood beside it, spine straight and chin demurely lowered. The other maid joined her. They would remain in the drawing room throughout the entirety of breakfast, waiting to be called upon if someone wanted seconds or thirds. Until then it was their job to be neither seen nor heard.
“Well,” said Lady Irene as she cut into her poached egg. Yolk ran over the edge of her toast, staining it a deep yellow. “Now that we are all here I suppose I should share my happy news.”
Clara looked up from her plate in time to catch Gabriella and Henrietta exchange a smirking glance. The muscles in her stomach tightened, just like they had when she was a child and Lady Irene had sat her down in the parlor.
“What happy news is that, Lady Stepmother?”
Lady Irene took her time in answering, no doubt drawing pleasure from making Clara wait. Like a cat, she enjoyed playing with her food before she ate it. The more the food struggled the longer she played.
Too tense to eat Clara sat with her hands clenched tightly in her lap, using all the inner-strength she possessed to make herself appear outwardly calm even as her mind whirled with one dark possibility after another.
Was she finally going to be sent away?
Was Agnes going to be let go?
Was Poppy?
Other than her two dearest friends, Clara couldn’t think of anything else her stepmother could take from her that she hadn’t already. Buttercup had been sold off years ago. Her bedroom now belonged to Henrietta. Her parent’s belongings had been dispersed far and wide. What else was left?
“Oh just go on and tell her,” Gabriella urged, her eyes burning with a vindictive gleam Clara recognized all too well. Of her two stepsisters Gabriella was by far the most malicious. Every year her hate of Clara seemed to larger and more twisted no matter what Clara did – or did not – do. She didn’t know the source of her stepsister’s wrath, only that Gabriella was determined to make Clara’s life as miserable as she possibly could.
“Very well.” Deliberately setting her fork aside, Lady Irene sat straighter in her chair and smiled a serpent’s cold, tight-lipped smile. “Clara, I have found you a husband.”
CHAPTER NINE
Clara, I have found you a husband.
I have found you a husband.
A husband…
A husband…
A husband…
Seconds that felt more like hours passed in the blink of an eye as Clara sat frozen in her chair, Lady Irene’s voice playing through her head on an endless loop. Had she really been so naïve as to think there was nothing else her stepmother could take from her?
Her gaze flew to Poppy who looked just as stunned as she felt. The maid shook her head from side to side as two bright splotches of anger settled high on her cheeks. ‘Breathe’ she mouthed.
Clara’s lungs burned as she filled them with air.
“I – I do not understand,” she managed to choke out.
Lady Irene lifted one brow. “Did I stutter or otherwise make myself unclear?”
“I heard you perfectly fine Mother,” said Gabriella.
“As did I,” said Henrietta, although she did not look nearly as pleased as her mother and sister. After a covert glance at Clara she began to eat her breakfast in hasty gulps, effectively removing herself from the conversation.
“You needn’t look so dismayed, dear. This is a good thing. It wasn’t as if you were planning on living at Windmere for the rest of your life, were you? Oh you were ,” Lady Irene said, clucking her tongue in faux sympathy when all of the blood drained from Clara’s face. “What a silly little pigeon you are.”
Gabriella snickered under her breath while Clara’s stomach fell all the way down to her toes. She should have known her stepmother would plan something like this. It was the only way to ensure she could claim Windmere as her own once and for all. For even though she’d dressed Clara in
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