"Maybe if you just told her-"
"No!"
"But if she knew it was you-"
"I said no!"
"Well then how do you expect her to accept you without-"
"Because that's exactly what she needs to do." Gray was having less and less patience for Thom's continuous insistence that he reveal himself to Clara.
"I don't understand-"
"No, you don't."
"Well maybe if you-"
"No. This isn't your problem." Grayson sent Thom a scathing, silencing look as he spotted Clara working her away over. In the past couple weeks, she had gained some weight and the bags were practically gone from under her eyes. Mr. Andrews hadn't seen her again since that day in the garden, instead having Hannah back to deliver his coffee, but Clara was still doing the shopping each week.
Gray looked forward to each week when she would finally look at him. Talk to him. Smile at him. It had taken some work, but he had gotten her to open up about her new employment and with her new found trust in him, she didn't hesitate to share with him how horrendous she found her employer to be. While she never dealt with him directly nor was ordered about by him, somehow she had painted Mr. Andrews to be the most vile of creatures. Something Grayson wasn't particularly pleased to hear. Sometimes he tried to reason with her. Encourage her to give him a better chance, but then sometimes she would start to close herself off again. Tell me him he had no idea, so now he just tried to avoid the subject all together.
Winter had settled in when Grayson found himself one day rushing her through her usual haggling and pulling her further up the street.
"Come on, I want to show you something." Gray surprised her, by tucking her elbow in his and leading her further up the street. Her basket was full with the days purchases and she had just been about to take her leave.
"I should probably be getting home..." Clara was unsure. The walk home wasn't long since the mansion was right outside the city but she wanted to get back before darkness fell.
"It won't be long. Come on." Gray pulled her further and further along and gradually the vendors changed. Their wares slowly becoming more expensive.
"Gray...Grayson, please!" Clara's footsteps were slowly becoming slower and slower and it was starting to be less and less two people walking and more one person dragging along another. "I don't belong up here." She hissed catching sight of a few more people eyeing not only him but also her. She was out of place more than ever. Though her skirts belonged to a rich household and the cloak she now wore was heavy, warm, and as fine as any servants up here, she still felt like she didn't belong. She never shopped up here and everyone knew it.
"Nonsense. You are with me. Come, it's only a little further." Finally he ducked over to a vendor with wares that were clearly from far away places. Items and trinkets she had never seen before and more still with cultural flairs.
Her honey colored eyes light up on a small exotic wood box with a rose inlay on it's lid. "How beautiful." She dragged a finger along it's smooth exterior before her eyes caught sigh of a grouping of thin, delicate and colorful bracelets. "Where are all these things from?"
"All over the world, miss. Mr. An-ah-Grayson, was telling me you like roses?"
The voice sounded familiar and when she looked up she was surprised to see Miles smiling back at her. "Miles! What are you doing here?"
"This is Mr. Andrews stall, Clara. Jensen and I take turns managing it, but mostly me." He grinned at her.
"I didn't know." Clara smiled before a quizzical look past over her face as she glanced up at Gray. "How-how do you know Grayson?"
"Ah, well, Mr. Grayson shops her frequently enough." Miles looked up at Gray and Clarabell saw something pass between the two that she didn't understand. Some secret she wasn't privy too.
"Do you have the rose, Miles?" Gray glanced around impatiently. This was too dangerous. It was a bag idea. He should never have brought her here.
Nodding the vendor turned his back to grab something from another counter before turning back and what he had in his hands drew an audible gasp from Clara and she forgot all about the odd coincidence.
"Oh my..." Clara's wide eyes stared at the fragile, sparkling rose in the man's hands. The stem and petals were etched out of a deep jade with small emeralds poking out like thorns. And the rose itself was a brilliantly glittering dark red color, perfectly shaped into a new blossoming rose. The individual petals delicately curving out away from their center.
"The stem is jade and emeralds, but the blossom is glass. We found a man who knows how to shape and color it." The man smiled proudly at the treasure.
"What do you think, Clara?" Grayson barely glanced at the rose instead watched the girl, pleased with himself at having found such a treasure. "Have words finally ceased to become in that quick brain of yours?"
Clara couldn't even send him a look, she wanted to stare at the beautiful thing as long as she could, remember every inch of it. "Oh, words can't describe how beautiful..."
Chuckling, Gray plucked the delicate thing out of the man's hands and held it out to her. "It's yours."
Clara stared at the object then at the Miles and finally Gray, her brain refusing to wrap her mind around the meaning behind his words. "Oh, I couldn't-I-I could never take something this fine..."
"It wasn't a question." Gray smirked and handed the man his payment, which Clara never saw since it was in a small pouch, but she knew well the rose didn't have a small price.
"No. Mr. Grayson...I couldn't-I-"
"Clarabell." Drawing her away from the stall he settled his gloved hands on her shoulders, his eyes staring meaningfully into hers. "I know you'd rather the money go elsewhere and I am prepared to give a matching sum away to your cause if that's what it takes for you to accept my gift. But, make no mistake, you will take my gift, Clara. I'll not accept no as an answer."
Well, he had already paid for it. And what use did a man have for something so fine? A small smile worked its way onto her lips and into her eyes. "Thank you, Gray." Her voice was soft and full of appreciation. The last time she had received a gift her father had been alive. "I'm so lucky to have such a good friend."
"You're welcome." Grinning beneath the scarf, he slipped an arm loosely around her waist and guided her back down the street.
She continued to admire the treasure in her hands before something start to nag at her. Suddenly she stopped and looked up at him with eyes so wide and curious and trusting, that he was momentarily taken aback. "Why do you hide behind all this?" She gestured to his clothing, the scarf. "Take off the scarf, Gray, please." She could see him struggle for a few moments and for a second she thought he would, before he completely closed himself off to her.
"I can't, Clarabell." His voice was so quiet, she could scarcely hear him.
"Please, Gray, whatever is wrong, I don't care." She looked so beautiful standing there, pleading with him to reveal himself. But the time wasn't right. She would run screaming in terror from him if he did.
"I do." He could see her start to protest, but he firmly shook his head and started to walk, pulling her along with him. "Please, Clara. Don't ask me again."
His words were so definite that she fell silent, her gaze dropped to the rose, but even he knew she was no longer thinking about his gift. No matter how much he tried to steer her into a different conversation after that, she never said a word until she headed back home when she said "good-bye".
The long, cold winter days stretched on and still Gray did his best to avoid her at home. He knew he shouldn't. He knew he needed to work to get her to trust him, but he couldn't bear seeing her unable to look at him and trembling like a leaf every time they were in the same room together. It was as if she expected him at any moment to lash out and devour her. The firm judgment was so out of character for her, but then he really wasn't trying to do anything to change that either. He wouldn't even let the other servants speak to her about what he was really like.
He was sitting in his study one evening going over his ships latest deliveries when there was a small knock on his door. "Come in." It took him a moment to look up and see Hannah standing in the door looking quite distraught. "What is it?"
She wrung her hands nervously, not something he was used to seeing her do. "It's-it's Clara, sir."
Not liking the way Hannah seemed so fidgety and liking even less that this involved Clara, he dropped his pen and started to stand.
"She fainted in the dining room, knocked her head on the table." Hannah jumped out of the way as Gray took long steps toward the door and past her.
"Where is she?" The concern in his lowered voice was crystal clear.
"Her room, sir. But, sir, wait!" Hannah grabbed his arm. Something servants could be struck for, but she wasn't afraid of Gray and there was nothing for her to fear. "She is burning up. Has been for the past day, but she was too stubborn to stay in bed. I-I've heard there is a sickness going around..." Hannah's voice faltered and she simply stared up at him concerned for her friend. And with good reason. Whatever it was that was currently spreading around the town, it was leaving more dead than alive.
"I'll call for the best doctors I can, Hannah. She'll be ok. I want you, Norah, Miles, and Jensen to pack what you need and spend some time far from here until I call for you, do you understand? If this is that sickness..." Gray shook his head and stared off down the hallway. "I will pay for any accommodations and you will still receive your normal salaries." Thinking he had said enough Gray turned to head off, but once again Hannah held onto his arm.
"None of us will leave you here alone, sir." Hannah then released his arm.
"Thank you, Hannah." Gray couldn't help a tired smile before he turned around and took off towards Clara's rooms.
