Putting on the Ritz

Chapter Sixteen - Clara

It was well past sunset and every corner of the Vandercroft house was dark. Clara took the servants stairs one by one, careful not to let them creak. With the turn of events that afternoon held, Clara was extra cautious of appearances, knowing that they meant more now than ever. Clara stepped into the garage clutching her single candle and let her eyes adjust. She moved toward the man sitting on the stool by the worktable, reminding herself why she had come. Already it was tomorrow, and tomorrow was the day she had promised herself to let go of Gale. It was imperative now, with what she knew, and of course since she was now an engaged woman.

Her slippers padded softly as she padded slowly toward Gale, pausing to admire him in the flickering light. She set the candle on the workbench next to him and stopped to look at his green eyes, the curve of his slumped shoulders, and his strong hands clasped together in front him. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees and his head turned upward to look her in the eye. The thought of hurting him was so unbearable to her, that she could not even begin to think about it. She reached her arms in around him and pressed herself against his solid chest. She committed the warm feeling of his arms around her to memory in case she never had the chance to feel them again.

Suddenly, he pulled her into his embrace and stood lifting her off the ground and spinning her about the dark garage, causing her silk robe to swish out around her. She almost cried out in surprise, but a grin spread across her face and in its place she laughed a soft, happy laugh. She felt her feet softly contact the garage floor again and his hand glide up her neck where he gently ran his fingers through her hair.

"I cannot believe you are here again already. I will never tire of seeing you walk through that door." Gale pressed her head forward lightly and softly kissed her forehead.

"I couldn't sleep." She had never tried to go to sleep, but had waited up for signs that the house had quieted for the night and she was free sneak down to the garage. She hadn't had to wait long however. Her sister had went to bed early, probably upset about the proceedings earlier in the day, and her mother had gone directly up after tea, claiming a headache, which Clara guiltily thought was brought on by stress. 

"Is it bad of me to be glad that you couldn't sleep?" Will looked at her through his long lashes.

Clara wanted to kiss him, but she didn't want to interrupt his gaze for even a second. The way Gale looked at her made her feel as if she had been walking through beds of sweet smelling flowers in the warm sun all day. For the first time that day, she took a full breath of air and warmth spread all the way down to her fingers and toes.

She didn't know when her feelings for Gale had turned to love. Gale had come to the employment of the Vandercroft's over two years prior, when Clara was still yet a young girl. She had then only watched the boy from afar, but after her father's death she had  taken to strolling about the grounds to sort through her grief, and occasionally found herself in the company of the young man in the garage. She loved how hopeful he was and how bright he saw the future and at the dark time following her father's death, Clara could think of no better escape than to dream of a better future. Everyone else she knew already had everything they ever wanted, and were perfectly content idly passing their time doing nothing. But not Gale; he poured himself over books learning about stocks and bonds in hopes of going to New York and making it big. He was unlike anyone else she had ever had the occasion to meet. 

He lifted her up once more disrupting her admiring thoughts of him, and set her down on the worktable next to the candle. He placed his hands on either side of her hips and leaned in gazing into her eyes. She let out a quiet laugh again and he silenced her with a kiss.

As sweet as it was, Clara reminded herself why she was here. Every moment spent there further was a lie. She had to tell him. And every moment further that she did not would only be dishonest, it would be cruel. As he kissed her, she felt like a liar, and Gale was one person she could not lie to. She pulled back and gave him a serious look, biting her bottom lip.

"What is it?" he asked, concern marking his face.

Clara took a deep breath for courage. "It's – " she began. "It's just... Lawrence."

"Caldwell?" Gale laughed. "Don't tease me about that anymore. I saw him leave the house this evening, but don't worry, I'm not jealous anymore."

He kissed her forehead again, and Clara felt her throat tighten, threatening to cut off all air. Tomorrow – she told herself – tomorrow she would tell him.

Late in the night, when she was sneaking back into her own bed, guilt gripped her tightly again for not telling him about the proposal. Without his sweet eyes or the warmth of his arms around her, she felt cold and miserable, and all the negative thoughts of the day came rushing back to her at once.

She tip toed toward the house and paused as a the sound of a car came to a stop nearby. She waited, hidden by the bushes, waiting to see if the car would pass, but instead heard a familiar voice.

"If you insist." A sweetened version of her sister's voice rang out in the dead of the night.

"I just want to make sure you get in okay." A male voice replied. She heard a car door shut.

"But my house is right there!" Olivia giggled giddily, stumbling up the drive and pointing toward the house.

Clara pushed herself further into the bushes as the two figures walked side by side, up the drive, to the front door. Anger flashed through her at the person whose arm was laced with her sister's. That arm belonged to none other than her fiancé, Lawrence Caldwell.