Clarke was seated on a floral chair in the sitting room, when one of the maids informed her that her mother had a received a telegram from one of her friends which pertained an urgent matter.
"Mr Collins is betrothed to Lady Raven Reyes," Mrs Griffin said, as she strode into the room before taking a seat and picking up her sewing, as if this news did not affect her.
"I beg your pardon?" Clarke Griffin said, shocked.
"Mr Collins is betrothed," Mrs Griffin said stiffly. Her mother had never had a particularly expressive face, but Clarke was aware that she was currently controlling her features to now show their true emotion.
Finley Collins had been courting Clarke for months, how could he have a fiancée?
"Mother-" Clarke interrupted, feeling her stomach drop.
"I am just glad we found out before anything unfortunate could occur," her mother said, looking at Clarke knowingly. "I'm quite aware of the unsavoury activities of some of today's youth," she said in disdain. Clarke immediately discerned her mother's meaning, and inwardly cringed at her words. She was that youth, she had spent a night in Mr Collins' rooms. She was officially damaged goods. No one would marry her now.
"I- It...did." Clarke stuttered.
"No, Clarke. Please say you were not so foolish," Mrs Griffin chastised.
"I'm so very sorry," Clarke whimpered. She had truly thought her relationship with Mr Collins was special. They were talking of marriage - she had not thought one night prior to the wedding would matter, if they were going to be together forever.
"He was going propose, and I thought-" She cursed herself for being so foolish, but her mother interrupted her.
"I thought I had taught you better, and now your reputation will be in tatters! I thought you had better morals?" she said, frustrated. Her mother had placed her sewing on the table. Abigail Griffin's face had suddenly turned to stone.
"I'm sorry, Mother," Clarke expressed. She knew what this would mean. Finley Collins had been their only hope of survival.
"What are we to do, Clarke? We have nobody else, you and I - this match was supposed to secure our future." Mrs Griffin said, sternly. Clarke did not have an answer. Her father had been murdered by a group of thieves, and had left them with nothing. She had loved her father, but he had always believed that his two dependents would be fine as long as he were alive, and had made no provisions for when that wasn't the case, beyond assuming that once his time had come, Clarke would have secured a prosperous marriage. He'd had such faith in her. It was undeserved. The incident with Finn, it had now been revealed, had been nothing but an affair, even though she had not known it at the time.
"I am sorry," she said once more, as she ran out the sitting room. She held her lilac dress, and she quickly ran outside into the gardens of the estate. The estate was of a moderate size, but had large amounts of land. Clarke looked up at it- knowing that she had just forgone her chance of saving it.
Clarke walked towards the house of Octavia Blake, her closest friend. Both women were known for their fierce independence and their advocation of women's suffrage, a further reason as to why Clarke struggled in finding a match. A servant greeted her on the arrival at the gate, and as she was a long-time friend of the family's, she was quickly ushered in, and Octavia was sent for. Octavia was married to a man named Mr Lincoln. The two had been fiercely in love, despite being from two rivalling families. Clarke was joyful for her friend, and had believed she had found the same connection with Finn, until today. Due to Finn's indiscretion, she had to find another man who would be willing to marry her in order to secure her own and her mother's future.
"Clarke, what a pleasure to see you!" Octavia said, as she put on a show for the servants. Once they were behind closed doors the formalities would end. They walked to the drawing room arm in arm. Once the door was closed, Octavia looked upon her with concerned eyes.
"Have you heard?" Clarke asked, bluntly.
"I have," Octavia nodded solemnly.
"What am I to do?"
"I am unsure. I'm terribly sorry, Clarke, but you need to find a husband to retain your estate," Octavia said.
"I know," Clarke nodded. There was not much more either of them could say.
"Will you be at the ball tonight?" Octavia said, attempting to change the subject.
"I think not, after this news. I will be gossiped about everywhere I turn," Clarke said.
"Oh, but they will gossip with or without you there. You should show your face, let them see you intend to weather the scandal bravely," Octavia said. Clarke raised her eyebrows at the word 'scandal'.
"I had no idea of his betrothal," Clarke said.
"I know," Octavia said solemnly. "I am so sorry," she uttered. "Whatever you need, you will have my full support. It is Finley Collins's indiscretion, not your own. Do not blame yourself!"
"I- There was one occasion-" Clarke said, but Octavia interrupted.
"I am aware that the two of you slept together, Clarke," Octavia said, grabbing Clarke's hands together. "I know my closest friend, and I know that you would not be so distraught had you not done something of that kind."
"I shall never secure a husband, and I shall lose the estate," Clarke said, close to tears. She hated the way women were denied the right of self-reliance.
"We will find a way. I will speak to some potential suitors."
"Octavia, I cannot possibly ask that of you, I shan't hear of it," Clarke insisted. "I must return home."
"Wouldn't you like to stay for dinner? Bellamy may join us," Octavia offered.
"No, thank you, I feel I am unfit for company. But I felt that I simply had to see you," Clarke said, smiling at her friend, despite the tears in her eyes.
"You are always welcome here, Clarke, you are my closest friend." Octavia said. Clarke smiled in appreciation. On her return, the mother refused to look her in the eye, much less speak to her.
Clarke walked into the ballroom. It was luxurious, filled with gold and red decor and paintings that Clarke could study for hours. Clarke was wearing a lilac ballgown, it was tight on her bust- her Mother had suggested it. She had never felt completley comfortable in such finery, but was aware that it was the acceptable clothing for such events.
The ballroom appeared to fall silent as she walked in, and it was clear that no one had expected her to make an appearance. She moved to the side of the hall, where she watched as others danced. No man would approach her tonight.
"I am surprised to enjoy your company here, Miss Griffin," a man said as he approached Clarke. She sighed in relief as she heard the voice of Mr Bellamy Blake.
"I did not believe anything could shock you, Mr Blake."
"Miss Griffin, I am aware of what has occurred. I am unsure if it is foolish or brave of you to come here," Mr Blake said as he moved to stand next to her. Bellamy Blake was Octavia's older brother and sole heir to their family fortune. Both their parents had passed away. Clarke had often played with the Blake siblings when they were children, but Mr Blake had grown to be a reasonably cold man and, even as her friendship with Octavia grew, Clarke and Mr Blake would often bicker over trivial matters. Clarke was unsure how to respond to his last comment.
"I'd say remarkably foolish," she answered, finally. Mr Blake let out a chuckle.
"I am in my sister's debt," Mr Blake said. Clarke nodded but was confused as to why he was informing her of this.
"And might I be of service?" she questioned.
"I suggest, given your recent affair-" Mr Blake started.
"I was unaware that he was betrothed," Clarke interrupted, unsure why she felt the need to justify herself to Mr Blake.
"I am inclined to believe you, but no man will want to be wed to you now," Mr Blake said. Clarke was very aware of this fact, and indeed even if she had not been, various people had felt the need to express it today.
"I am aware of the shame I have brought upon myself," Clarke said, looking at the floor, and feeling horribly foolish.
"I suggest we become husband and wife," Mr Blake uttered.
"The fact you owe your sister a favour is hardly a reason to propose, Mr Blake," Clarke said slowly, not quite believing what she had heard.
"I am aware. But I find you amicable. If we disagree on many matters, Miss Griffin, it is only because you have reasonable intelligence, unlike many others in this room."
"Due to the fact you are indebted to your sister and I am of reasonable intelligence, we should be betrothed?" Clarke exclaimed, incredulously. Mr Blake had never shown the slightest indication of being inclined to wed her. He had never attempted to court her, and in fact she was sure he had bedded many other women. This was perfectly accepted for a man, just not a woman, who ought to be pure. She scowled at the unfairness.
"I will be faithful to you, Clarke, and I know that you need this match," Mr Blake said. He was correct. She needed it sorely, she needed to secure her estate.
"Thank you," she said, tears brewing in her eyes. She was unsure whether it was out of relief that she would not become homeless, or the fact she was going to spend eternity with Bellamy Blake.
"Is that your consent?"
"It is. I realise the kindness you are showing, and I would like to accept your offer." Clarke had always believed she would marry for love as Octavia and Lincoln had done, but Mr Blake was not a vile alternative. She could appreciate his beauty, and though they might not always have the same views, the love he showed towards his sister convinced her that he was a good and noble man.
"I shall share the news that we are to be wed with Octavia, and Lincoln," Mr Blake nodded. Clarke was left alone at the edge of the ballroom floor. She reflected on the past couple of minutes, attempting to consider what had just happened and the shock she felt.