Two
A few days later Clara found herself apprehensive as she had told Briar everything. Mr. Sinclaire was coming again today before his visit with the earl of Edgewater. He had insisted on being there for her on her mother's funeral as she had reworked and dyed one of her older dresses black. Briar was on edge as her eyes light up and got wider and wider.
"Don't you see what this means Clara?" squealed Briar. "He really likes you."
"I think he just wants to help me with mama, I think he blames himself for getting me there too late. If I hadn't decided that I would let him ride me back, I would have been there." Her eyes flickered down to the floor as today she was burying her mother. "He probably won't want to see me after the funeral."
"Now that's not true," said Briar. "Well it is his fault, but he probably wants to see you again. I mean he seemed quite taken with you."
"Oh Briar," she said as she heard a knock on her door. She sighed as she opened it to see her neighbor from the south. She nodded as she accepted the bread pudding. Clara didn't know where to put all the food they were given her. Or the pig.
Then there was knocking from the door again as she sighed. There were so many people her mama had made deals with. "Oh," she said as she saw Mr. Sinclair there in dark clothes as she flushed as she let him in.
"I hope that this will help you," he said giving her a gift in a bag. Clara's eyes grew wide as she saw that it was money. "For the headstone."
"You didn't have to," she said a bit faintly. "I, I was going to sell some of our belongings to pay for that. The stone mason said I didn't have to pay him back right away."
"I insist," he said as Briar's eyes grew wide. "Otherwise I will drop it off myself."
She nodded as everyone started walking to the small parish that wasn't too far away. Ernest didn't mind walking as he was able to get a good look around at the village some exercise. It was rather unbecoming of a man of his stature to be more muscular then a laborer, but he kept himself healthy enough.
The ceremony was to start in ten minutes as several people all stood in the small church. He had to remind himself that her mother did work for the local men as several of them showed up to give their respects. He reached down and gently took her hand as she kept her eyes trained on her mother's casket. She had tears run down her cheeks silently as Briar took her other hand.
Briar insisted on going up with Clara as he complied as he followed behind them. Finally, the procession was over as he could only watch the casket be lowered into the ground. Clara crying softly into her friend's dress as he put a hand on her shoulder. After a few minutes she went to find the stone mason who made her headstone as Ernest watched her give him the money.
"Thank you," she said. "I'll find a way to repay you."
"How about repaying me you tell me about your mother," he said sincerely. "I never really knew her, and I bet you have a lot to say."
"How about over lunch?" asked Briar as Clara nodded. She'd find a way to repay him she thought to herself, but this was good.
"So, there was this one time," started Clara as they walked back to her home.
It felt good to tell stories as they had told numerous until Briar had to leave. Ernest joined her for dinner as he was enjoying the soup that she had prepared from a neighbor. His eyes never really left her except to glance at the clock to know when it was going to be time for him to leave. Clara had sat next to him as she passed a piece of dessert to him.
"This felt really nice Mr. Sinclaire," she said. "I never really told many people these stories. I suppose I shall write them down one day to share with my children one day. Maybe one day you'll tell me one of your own."
He smiled wryly knowing the stories he'd tell and the ones he wouldn't.
"Perhaps," he said. "I should probably be going but I'll be back in a couple of days or so."
She looked surprised as she figured after her mother's funeral he would go back to work. Clara understood that the social season was coming up and he would be going to several events. "Are you sure? Don't you have business."
"I have it every day, but it isn't all day like you may think," he said. "I shall see you soon." With that he kissed her hand before leaving out her door.
Clara nodded as she watched him get on his horse and leave.
EdgewaterEdgewaterEdgewater
What was the third time she saw him, and the second visit Clara did a double take. He had his horse again as he was coming from the other side of her home. It seems as if today he was visiting her after visiting the earl of Edgewater.
"I must say Mr. Sinclaire I thought after last time you wouldn't be coming," she said as she opened the door after the first knock. "I thought after my mother's funeral I thought I'd never see you again."
"What makes you think I wouldn't visit I said I would," he said as he looked around. She was cleaning again as he noticed more and more gone. This time he didn't know what he would do with himself. Before he would at least help with the funeral. If he was any other man, she would have been right, Clara wouldn't have seen him again after the funeral. Instead, he found himself coming back.
"What is it that you think you could do?" she teased as he honestly didn't know that answer himself. When he and Roselyn were married, and if they spent time together; it was in the parlor with her playing a pianoforte. Roselyn might even paint something but here it seemed that Clara busied herself with sewing for entertainment.
It was quiet as they were staring at each other. "I propose a picnic," he said if a bit bold. "If I continue to visit you, the least I could do is get to know you better."
"And I you," she said a bit surprised. "Give me a few minutes, I'll need to get some food together. Perhaps you could find a basket for us?"
Ernest nodded as he looked around the sitting area for something as he noticed the two connecting doors. Ah so that must be she and her mother's bedrooms. He peered into the first room to see that everything was left untouched as it was slightly musty. He remembered her mother in in that room… Softly he shut it and then peered into the next as it was stairs. Clara's room thought Ernest as she slept in the loft. He shut that too not wanting to be caught in the bedroom.
Finally, he found a basket beside a chair, it was empty as he went to the kitchen and passed it to her. She had some of her leftovers that she put in bowels and sat a dishcloth at the bottom of the basket. Clara put the bowels of food in and covered that as well. Then finally put in some dessert off to the side.
"I have my favorite hill that I can show you," she said as she opened the door and locked it behind them.
After a few minutes of walking silently did Ernest have the horse tied off and eating his own lunch as Clara set up a spot.
She passed him a bowl and a fork as they started chewing softly.
"Alright, if I'm going to get to you know you better," said Ernest. "I know that this is improper to ask but I am curious, of what age are you?"
Clara just smiled as she pretended to think about it. "Why I am of thirty and five," she teased as he sent her his best knock it off face. "I am twenty and I think it's only fair that I should ask you the same question. How did you become a squire? I assume it's hereditary."
"Twenty and nine," he said as she was mildly surprised. "As you may know now that I'm the head of my house. I have had it passed down to me from my father, he did the same thing I did, and so forth back. Now what is it you do?"
"Seamstress," she said as she took a bit of her food. "I think we have other questions to discuss that is a little less formal." Clara looked up at the sky before pointing. "What does that cloud look like to you?"
Surprised Ernest never expected this question as he looked up. "A rabbit," he said after a minute. She nodded as he felt a little silly just looking up at the clouds. He had to think of something different then a normal 'how old are you' type of questions. "If you could be any animal what would it be?"
"See you do have creative questions," she teased as she poked his chest, as she thought about it. "A bird, I could fly anywhere and see places that I normally wouldn't."
They had gone back and forth for what felt like hours. The more he talked to her Ernest had to admit the air of mystery she emitted was gone. In its place was a sweet girl, one with a free spirit and dedicated young heart. As his suspicions were confirmed her father was dead. Clara had a sweet tooth as she tried to take some of his dessert. She liked dancing and wished she could see an opera one day where her mother performed. She could spend hours on this hill making up stories about the stories behind what the clouds formed.
And in turn she learned about him and his family. What it was like to have is job without going into too much detail. Then everything in between as he liked reading poetry and there was a swing at Ledford he'd get on from time to time. He told her about how he tried to help the women and children of London when he could. He even told her that his name was Ernest and he hated being called by the name Ernie.
"I suppose we should go back," said Ernest after a minute. Someone was bound to be searching for him at the manor.
"Oh but Mr. Sinclaire," she said protesting as she felt a raindrop on her cheek as angry clouds rolled in. "I suppose we should before we're all wet."
"Ernest," he said after a minute as he was watching her as she glared up at the clouds. "You can call me Ernest."
"We should get back before we're all wet Ernest," she said trying out his name as he quite liked it out of her mouth. Together the two of them raced for the cottage.