Page 66 of The Earl's Disguised Governess
“My mother is at the centre of everything wrong,” Ernest hissed. “I will never let my mother ruin your life, Claire. This isyour life, and she cannot take that from you. I am so sorry my mother has involved herself in your life in her attempt to punish me through becoming acquainted with you. She is playing a dangerous power game, and I do not know when she will stop.”
“I do not know what my mother wants,” Claire said. “Although …” She thought of the letter her mother had sent her and retrieved it from her desk. She brought it back to Ernest, and both perched respectfully on the end of her bed.
“See, there.” Ernest pointed to a return address that mentioned a hotel in Bristol.
“That is near where I am from,” Claire told him. There was a tight knot of anxiety in her chest that she could not get rid of, no matter how many times she tried to ease herself. “Will you attend with me tomorrow? I do not think I can do it alone.”
“Of course, I will,” he promised. “But I should retire to my own room, Claire. I cannot be caught in here. But before I go, I must inform you that anything my mother said about Lady Samantha is not true. She set us both up.”
“I know, Lord Bannerdown.”
He gave her a charming smile. “Please call me Ernest.”
“I … Okay.” She let out a nervous laugh.
“I wish for that as I want to tell you my feelings, Claire.” He hesitated, stood before her. “My friend, Mr Courtenay has proposed to Lady Samantha, and the two of them are planning to marry. They have come to care for one another. But I care for you, Claire. And I swear I shall not abandon you in any way. These last several months have been made bright because of you. I have weathered everything because of you. Claire, you are brilliant and beautiful. Your voice brings me peace, and your smile makes every day feel as though it is the kiss of summer. You have not only brought Florence and me closer together, but you have given me new life. But that is only a life I wish to share with you. I cannot imagine one day without you here, and even just spending the day apart from you today has been torturous.”
Claire’s eyes widened. She had convinced herself that she was the only one who felt the way she did, but Ernest’s confession spilled from his lips, beautiful, and exactly what she needed and wanted to hear.
“Claire,” Ernest continued with a growing smile, “How do I compare thee to a summer’s day?”
“Oh, Ernest.” She laughed, stifling her mouth with her hand so they were not heard. “Ernest, I feel every part the same. I have grown to care so deeply for you, and I tried to deny my feelings for so long due to my position, and not wanting to be improper. I felt as though I brought forth a messy life, and I did not want you to have to be tangled up in it. But the more I tried to pull away, the more you tugged me in, and I was helpless to fall. I dream of you day and night and search for you in everyroom I step into. You are not only a guiding light for me, Ernest, but you are light. You have made what was a very lonely life good again. You have made my life something I love once again.”
Her eyes met his, and he held her hands in his own, bringing them to his mouth to kiss. The soft brush of his lips was tender and sent shivers through Claire.
“You must sleep now, Claire,” he told her. “And tomorrow, we shall confront your mother.”
After Ernest left, Claire giddily climbed into bed, once again feeling that weight lift from her shoulders. With her head cushioned on the pillow, she could not fight the smile on her face. She believed Ernest, and for the first time in a long time, her future felt within reach.
***
Standing before her mother in the hotel room where Magdalene was staying, Claire waited for the woman to speak.
Ernest waited outside for her, and Claire was left looking in the mirror of herself, only twenty years older.
“I am very touched you have come to see me,” Magdalene said. “After yesterday, I did not want to hope for anything at all.”
“You turned up in the middle of the night with no warning,” Claire shot back. “Of course, I was very shocked.”
“I did write,” Magdalene said. “Clearly, you received the letter, or you would not have found me here.”
“Mother, what is it you wish to gain from reaching out to me?”
“I told you. I wish to reconcile, my dearest Claire.”
“Why now? Why not even ten years ago? Why not when I debuted? Or when my father died, and I was left destitute? I needed a mother all that time ago, not now.”
“Then have me as a friend,” Magdalene offered. “Claire, I cannot undo the mistakes I made or redo the times I was not there for you, but you must understand that I had to leave. The baron was not a good man, and I knew of his debts. I knew he was a risk-taker, and there were many days when I felt as though I was one of those risks, destined to blow up. I had to leave, and France—where I left to—was no place for a young girl.”
“So, you left the young girl behind to fend for herself,” Claire muttered. “It is unthinkable. Do you know what your actions did to my father?”
“That is what I am trying to say, Claire,” Magdalene stressed. “I did not cause those ways of his gambling and investing. Of his solitude. He was like that during our marriage. I simply could not take it anymore. I met Gerard when he was travelling through Bristol, and when he asked me to leave for France with him, I could hardly say no.”
“You could hardly say yes!” Claire argued. “You had a child. You abandoned me!”
“I had to escape,” Magdalene whispered.
“And was it worth it?”
