The emotion was getting the better of her.
She could not avoid that.
So, without meeting Christopher’s eyes again and letting him know what was happening to her, Clara navigated through the elegant throng of guests. Every step felt like a heartbeat, a rhythmic echo of the unbearable farewell that loomed ahead. Her heart, heavy with the impending separation, yearned to imprint every detail of this last dance with Christopher.
Blindly, Clara slipped away from the ballroom, a lone figure seeking refuge in the corridors of Lady Ashford’s estate. The echo of her footsteps reverberated in the empty hallways, a solitary cadence that mirrored the solitude she anticipated in the days that lay ahead.
Unchaperoned, Clara sought a temporary haven. A secluded alcove by the gardens where she could release the flood gates of emotion in solitude. The walls seemed to bear witness to the silent struggles within her, offering a sanctuary for a heart weighed down by the conflicting forces of love and duty.
Once hidden away from the rest of the world for just a moment, Clara allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. The echoes of a sob, long suppressed, escaped into the empty space, a testament to the intensity of the heartache that threatened to engulf her. In the solitude of that moment, Clara clung to the remnants of a dance that had become the canvas of her forbidden emotions.
The dance that she knew she would cling onto for the rest of her life. Especially during the days that she found herself lonely, or even worse listening to Simon bore her with the details of his life and work. Details he truly seemed to think that she was utterly intrigued by, even if he did not show any interest in her life.
None at all.
Clara was grieving. Grieving for the loss of a life she never got the chance to have. Grieving for the marriage of love that she could have had, given half the chance.
It was the worst feeling that Clara had ever experienced in her life, and she knew that it was going to utterly consume her.