Clarke waited for hours in Alexandria's study. While she waited, she alternated between feeling horrible about what she did to Roan, and reading Alexandria's novel - which also produced some guilt, but not to nearly the same extent. Within the first few pages, it's clear he was right. She inspired this work, the novel is about her. It's a sort of alternate perspective in which women can openly be who they really are, contribute their real worth, and be with whom they want to be with without consequence. There are some major differences of course, but ultimately the heroine of the story, the soldier, is obviously Alexandria, and the woman she is pursuing, the doctor, is obviously herself. It's no wonder she never wanted to discuss it with Roan or herself.
Courtly manners transform rather quickly into clear and scandalous flirtation, and within the first ten chapters, the two women are already falling into bed together. By Victorian standards, the description is fairly vivid, and paired with her own recent dream, and lack of first hand knowledge, Clarke is finding herself becoming quite immersed and aroused. Alexandria either has a remarkable imagination, or she was writing from her own experiences. Perhaps a bit of both. The thought of them acting out these roles was both quite silly and quite alluring.
She was nearing the end of the epic tale, in which the doctor successfully performed surgery on the soldier after a bullet that had gone astray hit her during the final battle for independence. The women were tearfully embracing one another when Alexandria, the real one, finally made an appearance. Clarke was immediately on alert and incredibly anxious about the ensuing confrontation. It didn't help that the story had made her rather emotional.
Alexandria looked at her and what was in her hands and then closed the door behind her. She stood there, facing the door, slightly longer than was necessary, as if taking a moment to compose herself. Then she turned around and walked over to the other side of the desk, hands behind her back, apparently completely unperturbed. But Clarke knew she was a master of deception, so there may very well have been oceans of emotion behind those green depths.
"Does privacy mean nothing to you, Miss Griffin?" Her voice was as calm as her apparent manner. It was almost unsettling. If Clarke had found someone perusing her most private thoughts, she would have been furious. "You are my guest, yes, but that does not grant you the right to snoop through my things."
Clarke likewise stood up to face her head on. "Forgive me, countess, but I needed to know the truth."
"And what truth would that be?" she asked, pretending to play dumb.
"The truth of your feelings for me, Alexandria," said Clarke making sure to hold direct eye contact as she spoke.
At the utterance of her name, the countess held herself a little more rigidly. It was easy to see how she would see herself as a soldier. She knew how ride and shoot and hold herself like one quite well.
"And what was your assessment?" she inquired, as if they were discussing the weather and not a taboo romance.
Clarke moved around the desk to stand directly in front of Alexandria, in a similar attitude to that of herself and Roan. The countess stiffened still further.
"Why did you agree to marry the duke?"
"One can only stay a bachelorette for so long, Miss Griffin, especially when one is as desirable as myself," she replied simply, irritating Clarke. Clarke supposed by 'desirable', Alexandria meant, 'wealthy'.
Clarke just continued to give her a pointed look. "It is my duty to produce an heir," the countess eventually added. "Marriage is the only acceptable means by which to accomplish this goal."
Clarke wondered if Alexandria was implying not only that they could never marry should they pursue a relationship, but no children could be had from such an arrangement. Therefore it would be foolish to attempt one.
"While I do understand why you think such a thing is important, we both know that's not the whole truth, Alexandria. There is more to this story than you are letting on." Clarke hesitated only a moment before saying, "What happened with Costia? Why are you really doing this?"
Alexandria visibly flinched at the mention of the other woman, meaning Roan was likely on to something when he suggested her.
"You have been busy," she said, nostrils flaring, a bit of an edge to her voice. "My novel and my journal. You are an accomplished reader, Miss Griffin."
"What happened with Costia?" Clarke persisted, wondering if the countess held her arms behind her back as a way to keep herself from strangling her.
"Costia was a mistake. I paid heavily for that mistake. That is all you deserve to know of the matter." She turned her back on Clarke, effectively dissuading further intercourse on the subject. Clarke could see now precisely how tightly the countess was gripping her forearms. If she were more cautious, she would relent and leave. But Clarke could not in good faith turn back now.
"Do not do this, Alexandria, do not keep your emotions hidden from me. I know how you truly feel."
"You know nothing, Miss Griffin."
"So you are not in love with me?" Clarke said a bit heatedly, moving before her once more.
A storm was brewing in Alexandria's eyes. Someone with more sense would have quailed and evacuated the area.
The countess ground her jaw down and then in still steelier tones said, "All right, Miss Griffin, I shall tell you what happened to Costia. It's quite simple really. She was a country girl far beneath my station, and all the more alluring because of it. I was young and foolish and allowed my feelings to dictate my actions. We were intimate a number of times and then she accepted a proposal from a recent acquaintance. A year later she died during childbirth."
"That is terrible," said Clarke. "I am truly sorry." She placed a hand on her arm, but quickly retracted it when she felt how uncomfortable it was making Alexandria. "Costia's actions clearly hurt you a great deal, and-
"Costia had the right idea of the matter. I only wish she had come to her senses earlier than I."
"How can you say that, Alexandria?"
The countess continued to stare at her in that unblinking, unnerving manner. "They all died for my sins. Costia, my mother, my father..." her lip trembled, "my brother. They died because I was weak and succumbed to temptation."
"What are you saying? That God killed all of them because you laid with a woman?" Alexandria only dipped her head in reply. "God is not cruel!" she exclaimed, aghast. "He is merciful! He does not wish for you to suffer! He did not smite them because of who you loved!"
"God is cruel," insisted Alexandria. "He must be. It is the only way we will stay on the path of righteousness. Only those of sincere repentance shall achieve salvation with our Lord when He deems it our time to leave this world."
Alexandria had barely spoken of religion during her stay here. It seemed strange that she was now referring to it as the cause of her recent action.
"You speak, but it is not you who are speaking," said Clarke, understanding. "Titus speaks for you. He's poisoned your mind."
"You hardly know me, Miss Griffin," said Alexandria, ever the unbending statue. "You can hardly judge what is in my mind."
"I do know you!" cried Clarke. She placed a hand to Alexandria's chest. "I know what lies within your heart! You are not this person," she continued, raising her hand to hold the side of her face, "for she could not write such a beautiful love story! She could not be so full of hope for a better future! She could not inspire me! She could not make me feel what I feel for you! I did not know it then but you stole my heart the day you rescued me! This constant need to depict you on paper, I thought it was to understand you better! But it was to understand myself better!"
It seemed as though Clarke was finally making progress, finally making Alexandria see how stupid she was being, how misguided her intentions to protect her were, if indeed that were even her intent. But alas, it was not to be.
"Your feelings are wasted," said Alexandria, gazing at her steadfast, "I am not that person any longer."
She removed Clarke's hand from her face, leaned sideways and picked up the novel. Then she turned on her heel and tossed it into the fireplace. There was just enough heat left from the morning fire to begin charring the pages.
"No!" screamed Clarke, attempting to dash towards it, to salvage what was left of their relationship.
Alexandria grabbed a hold of her, pulled her into a lovers embrace - though love was the last feeling imbued on her senses - and whispered, "It is better this way. You will forget about me in time. Roan has left the estate, just as you must. You must then settle down with a nice young gentleman and start a family the way you are meant to."
Clarke broke out of her embrace and snarled, "There was a nice young man! He was my best friend! I thought I would marry him one day! Then he was gone, without rhyme or reason! Tell me what I did to deserve his death?! If that is what I was meant to do?!"
Completely unmoved, Alexandria said, "We like to think we are all Kings and Queens, but really we are nothing more than pawns. You cannot control destiny, Clarke."
Clarke had waited for her to say her Christian name for ages. However, the moment was for all intents and purposes ruined and she wished Alexandria had never uttered her name at all.
"You are either meant to be with someone or you are not. If you are, not even death can keep you apart for long."
So saying, she attempted to move past Clarke, but Clarke barred her path in one last desperate attempt to make her see reason. She grabbed the collar of her fur lined coat. "Please, Alexandria," she begged, the tears freely flowing now, "please do not do this! Will you deny your own senses?! You have felt our connection, I know you have! You cannot marry the duke, you do not love him! You will be miserable for the rest of your life! Haven't you suffered enough?!"
"I shall have your families things collected and a carriage brought round directly," the countess said firmly, moving out of her grasp. "There is an inn along the way to the city if you do not wish to sleep in the carriage. Simply mention my name and they will attend you free of charge." She stared at Clarke a long moment, as if memorizing her features. Under different circumstances, the scrutiny would have been welcomed. As it was, she was very near to slapping Alexandria most ardently across the face. "Goodbye, Clarke," she said so softly that Clarke did not have the heart for such violence, and instead collapsed into the nearest chair and sobbed.
When next he saw his daughter, she threw herself into his arms and commenced sobbing with fervour. Mr. Griffin was bewildered by their abrupt dismissal from the estate. He only knew that something had gone terribly awry between his daughter and Mr. Hawkins, who had recently given him a swift, detached goodbye before disappearing on horseback. He looked to his wife, who gave him such a look as to suggest she knew the cause of their discord and would explain the details at a later date. For the moment he would hold his suffering child and impart as much love and support as he possibly could in the simple act.
Once they were home, Mrs. Griffin informed him of Mr. Hawkins troubled past, and though she did not know the particulars, she was quite sure that was the reason for their falling out. Out of familial loyalty, the countess had expulsed them from her estate. He wondered why she had not told him sooner of the possible defects of Mr. Hawkins character. She replied that their daughter had wished for them to give him the benefit of the doubt, and let his current actions dictate his character, rather than his past ones, which perhaps were not even as bad as they were implied to be. Clearly they had been, and every day Mr. Griffin felt more and more foolish for being so taken in by the charming fellow.
His dearest and only daughter remained in her bedroom for four days on end, an occasional sob making its way down to his workshop or study. Mr. Griffin was nearly as distressed as his child. The last time she had been so distraught, her childhood friend had tragically perished. He too had lost a dear friend as a boy, so he knew the pain associated with such a loss. As to losing ones romantic love - for he believed his daughter must have truly loved Mr. Hawkins to be so inconsolable - that was not a sensation he was associated with. The only woman he had ever truly loved, he had married straight away, and by God's will, she had stayed with him all these years.
The longer his daughter suffered, the more his ire and resentment against Mr. Hawkins grew, and the less he cared about preserving any kind of relationship in future. So it was that on New Years Eve, he resolved to go locate Mr. Hawkins and give him a severe dressing down. Unfortunately, just as he was about to leave, Mrs. Griffin found him out and told him not to be a fool.
"If you think to challenge him to a duel and get yourself killed, you have another think coming*, husband. Now go put on your suit, and brush your hair, The Eastons are expecting us shortly."
As she had done every day since their unexpected return, Octavia came to sit with her friend and simply hold her. Clarke was equal parts grateful for the comfort and irritated by it. More than anything she wished to be left alone, to drown in her sorrows without an audience.
"Do you not have a party to attend?" she inquired a bit grumpily of her friend. "It is New Years Eve after all. Your husband will be missing your lips when the clock strikes midnight."
"I think it fitting I should celebrate it with you this year, Clarke," replied Octavia, as she stroked her back. "Lincoln and his family have had Christmas. You and I shall have New Years together. As to my lips, my husband has had quite enough of them in the past month."
Her friend hesitated to say something else that was on her mind, and Octavia never hesitated in such a manner, so Clarke immediately knew it must be something of great interest.
"What are you not telling me?"
"Am I that obvious?" said Octavia, a little uncomfortably.
"Indeed you are, to me at any rate."
"Ah well, then I suppose I have no choice but to tell you now." She repositioned herself so as to better face Clarke. "I am with child," she breathed out slowly.
"Why, that's marvelous news!" she exclaimed, embracing her friend fiercely. "I am so very happy for you both!" She pulled back. "Why did you think it necessary to keep this from me?"
Octavia fidgeted with the hem of the blankets, avoiding her gaze. "I did not think it right to impart this knowledge considering your current...state."
"I am not a delicate flower, Octavia," she said gruffly. "I will not wilt at the least sign of someone else's happiness." Octavia didn't respond and Clarke was unsure whether it was due to not wishing to argue with her, or whether it was something else altogether. "You are happy, are you not?"
"Oh, yes, of course I am, Clarke," said Octavia with a genuine smile that could light the dark. She took her hands. "I am so decidedly happy. Lincoln shall make a wonderful father."
"I dare say you shall make a wonderful mother too, provided you refrain from letting the child run amok like her willful mother."
Clarke smirked, but Octavia seemed uncomfortable again. She squeezed her hands. "Clarke, there is something else...Lincoln's investment of the fight club money has been doing well, and you know I have never much liked it here...so we have been discussing the prospect of moving out of the city and starting our family on a farm."
"Oh," was all Clarke could think to say, her chest constricting painfully. Was everyone determined to leave her?
Octavia squeezed her hands back. "It is far from certain this will come to pass," she said a little hastily, "and if it should, I do not see why that should bring an end to our friendship." She held her face in her hands, making Clarke look at her. "You know how dear you are to me. I would make every attempt to visit during the off season. Or since you have always longed for country living too, you could always come visit us. You would always be welcome there. Always."
Her friend seemed quite relieved to get that pertinent information off her chest, so Clarke willed herself to conjure a smile and say, "Then I shall always come when you call. Always."
They smiled at one another and Octavia hugged her again, and then she suggested they get out of bed and go celebrate the New Year. It was a rather pathetic affair, but they were together, and Clarke was unspeakably grateful to have Octavia in her life. The alcohol she consumed was making her even more grateful, and they waltzed and jigged around the parlour room, laughing, much to the disapproval of the servants, until they were exhausted. When the clock struck midnight, she kissed Octavia on either cheek and then grasped her hand and pulled her back into bed with her.
"I have a confession to make to you too," she said seriously, as they cuddled up to one another, nearly forehead to forehead. "Roan is not the reason I have been so out of sorts." Clarke whispered, "His cousin is."
Octavia had imbibed just as much as she, and she grinned at her in a dopey, sleepy fashion. "The countess?" giggled she. She squeezed her cheek. "What on earth did the scary woman do to you, Clarkey?"
"Broke my heart I'm afraid," replied Clarke dramatically.
Octavia giggled some more and then said, "That's very amusing. You are amusing."
"It's not a joke, Oca...Otca...O," she slurred. "I'm perfectly serious. I fell in love with her and she rejected me."
Octavia observed her serenely for a time, playing with her hair. "Well, she is a fool then, countess or no."
"You take no issue with this revelation?" Clarke wondered in wonderment.
"Why should I?" replied Octavia with a shrug. She kissed her forehead. "You are still my Clarkey-kins, are you not?"
Clarke was so overcome with the unconditional love and acceptance of her friend that she burst into tears. Octavia wrapped her up in a warm embrace, stroking her back once more. "No more tears, Clarkey, no more tears. Let us go to sleep and dream sweet dreams. All will seem better in the morning."
Octavia however was quite mistaken. All was most certainly not right come morning. Both girls skulls pounded with the force of a thousand hammer strikes, however, Octavia had it decidedly worse, and was exceedingly sick into the chamber pot for almost an hour. Once the nausea had dissipated somewhat and she had reclaimed her wits, she looked over at Clarke and just stared in a similar fashion to that of Roan upon discovering her reading Alexandria's journal.
Clarke's own stomach churned uncomfortably and she reckoned she would soon be ill as well, but not from the alcohol consumption. She had little doubt that Octavia had just recalled her confession of the previous night, something Clarke hoped would not happen once she too had remembered this morning.
"You're in love with the countess?" she queried without ceremony.
Clarke's blood picked up its pace so as to be in sync with that of the hammer hits. She took a deep breath, tried to say something, and then closed her desert dry mouth again. She settled for the tiniest of nods.
Octavia continued to stare at her. "I suppose that explains your obsession." She chuckled lightly. "In this new light, I can see that it's exceedingly obvious how you felt about her. I am more surprised at myself for not recognizing the symptoms of love earlier."
She swallowed, licked her lips. "You aren't disgusted that I should love a woman?" Clarke glanced away staring at the floor. "Such an attraction is wholly unnatural and should be discouraged." Clarke frowned, angry at herself for reiterating the kind of sentiment Titus shared.
Octavia came nearer and took her face in her hands again. "I lived on a farm for most of my life, Clarke. The animals did all number of supposedly unnatural things. Yet, they are more a part of nature than humankind can ever hope to be. Should we not judge ourselves by the same standards as the other creatures of God's creation? Why should we be separate and above if He loves us all?"
Perversely, the more Octavia tried to reassure her that her feelings were just, the more she seemed to be following along the same lines of reasoning as Alexandria and Titus. "We were given dominion over the animals, Octavia. We are separate and above. That is why we are in His image. That is why we are held to higher standards of conduct."
"Why should God give you such desires if He did not want you to express them?" persisted Octavia.
"To test my resolve. To learn if I am worthy of Him."
"Then why are only some afflicted with such desires? Should not we all be similarly afflicted if we are all created equally and in His image?"
"Many would say I am defective," muttered Clarke, eyes tearing.
"Poppycock," Octavia said defiantly, swiping a thumb across her cheek. "God does not make mistakes." She smiled softly. "You are just as you are supposed to be."
Clarke gave her a grateful smile and hugged her truest ally in all the world. The doubts of the past four days began to recede, but it was a slow process to fully accept herself for who she was, and so it was that weeks past before she could even contemplate the prospect of her feelings for Alexandria again without any amount of scorn.
As she was out for a pleasant stroll with Octavia along their favourite country path one afternoon, a man in the distance waved at them. Clarke balked at his approach, wanting nothing more than to turn around and flee. However, she did no such thing and simply waited impatiently for him to come nearer, her nerves alight and on edge. Roan took off his bowler** and greeted them formally. He had allowed his beard to grow back in some measure, nothing like when they had first met, but far less gentlemanly than all the time of their courtship. In all honesty, she almost preferred this rugged look to that of impeccably kept chins. The lines in his face spoke of a profound weariness and she wondered if he had been getting just as little sleep as herself, or if her rejection had served to age him a noticeable amount. She shuddered to think such a thing, which he mistook for being chilly and offered his outer coat. She declined the offer and looked to Octavia, who took the hint and moved off some distance to stand by a tree.
They awkwardly conversed for some minutes, none of their old familiarity making itself known. Then without prompting he said, "She is getting married in a few days time."
"Yes, I am aware of that," replied Clarke stiffly. There was little point pretending she did not know of who he spoke. And she could hardly have been unaware of the upcoming nuptials considering the city was abuzz with such talk. Alexandria was one of the wealthiest persons in England. The Duke was one of the noblest. Their union would be the spectacle of the year, though it had only just begun.
"What do you intend to do about it?" he demanded, not unkindly.
"Why should I intend to do anything about it?" she huffed, kicking at some snow.
"She won't listen to me."
"She won't listen to me either."
"You must try again."
"Must I?" she said a little shrilly, embarrassed at sounding like her mother. "I do not see that I must. She made her choice. Just as I did." Clarke's gaze fluttered away from his, the awkwardness of their situation making itself apparent once more.
"You are being just as stubborn as she. You will both regret this decision. I am sure of it."
"And what makes you so sure?"
"You love her, do you not?" He caught her eye for a bit, and she saw the barely concealed pain there before she glanced downwards again. Clarke nodded almost imperceptibly. "She loves you too."
"She has a strange way of showing her affection."
"Intimacy has not been easy for her since Costia. She's afraid of losing you too."
"Why are you so determined to see us together?" she honestly wondered.
"I love her like a sister. I only wish for her to be happy. You can provide that for her once again."
"Should it be known, our relationship would provide nothing but derision from her peers and England as a whole. She would be unceremoniously flung out of polite society. We both would."
"Are you implying that she is not worth the risk of such censure?"
Clarke worried her lip, a great anxiety pressing against her chest. "I am not sure my heart is strong enough for another refusal."
"If she refuses you a second time, I will be very surprised." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Will you go to her again?"
It would be just as difficult to turn her back on Alexandria forever, as it would be to face her again. She knew Roan was right. She would regret never knowing for sure if Alexandria was willing to take a chance on her.
With a deep breath she sighed, "I will."
He didn't exactly smile, though he seemed pleased all the same. Roan reached into his breast pocket, pulled out two tickets and offered them to her. After a few seconds of examination she saw that they were boat tickets...to Paris. The date of departure was two days from now, or the day before the wedding. She looked back at him, mouth slightly parted.
"In case you had said yes," he grimaced, though she assumed he thought he was smiling.
"Roan, I-"
He shook his head. "Let's not get into that again."
"I cannot accept these..."
He furled her gloved fingers around the tickets. "Take them. I have a feeling you will be needing them."
Roan stood back and they only observed each other silently for a time. If she had never met Alexandria, she was sure to have married him, and she wouldn't have regretted the decision. But Alexandria had seeped through her skin and settled into her very bones. She could no more part with her than she could fly.
"What will you do?" she asked after she stashed the tickets into her bosom.
"Oh, I don't know," he said. "Might stay in England for some time yet. Or maybe I will head back out on the road." He smirked, and it was much more genuine this time. "I have gotten pretty good at being an adventurer, if I do say so myself. Perhaps I will make it a full time occupation and document my travels better so that others may benefit from my excursions."
"Well, whatever you decide to do, I wish you the best of luck."
She held out her hand, but not so that he could kiss it. He seemed to understand and grasped her hand as if she were a man. "And I too wish you the best of luck, Clarke...sincerely this time," he added in his usual playful tones. She was glad that he seemed to be healing the scars that she had made. She hoped to never inflict that kind of pain on anyone else for as long as she lived.
Roan put his hat back on and tipped it towards her before continuing down the snow covered path and out of sight.
Her parents would never understand or approve of this relationship, so she decided not to inform them of the real reason for her departure. Instead, she had told them she was planning to stay with The Sterlings for a few days. No matter what Roan said, she felt there was the very real possibility that Alexandria would reject her again, and if that should come to pass, there was no reason her parents should know of this final attempt at following her hearts path.
The Sterlings were there to see her off early the next morning at the outskirts of town. She surprised Lincoln with a hug, the first she had ever given him, and ended with a rather longer one with Octavia. If everything went according to plan, she did not think she would be back here for some time, in which case, Octavia was to give her parents a letter explaining the situation. She could hear her mothers shrieks of despair loud and clear, and the thought perversely made her heart a little lighter, and almost eager to be on the road.
She shared one last teary eyed look with Octavia before ascending the snow white horse and nudging her onward, towards destiny.
*This was the original phrase and when you think about it, it actually makes a lot more sense than saying 'thing'
**I wanted to give him a homburg (like in Murdoch Mysteries) but they didn't exist yet, so I was stuck with a stupid bowler, cuz only assholes wear top hats during their day to day business, and I think I've established beyond a shadow of a doubt that Roan's the farthest thing from an asshole. And yeah I suppose there were other less stupid hats I could've used but then I couldn't have left this pointless note.
Another note: so there was some historical awareness of alcohol being a no-no during pregnancy, even some stuff in the Bible. However, there wasn't much awareness from the medical community and general population until a paper was published in 1973 describing FAL (fetal alcohol syndrome). So give O a break.
Anyway, I originally thought this was going to be the final chapter but now it obviously isn't...and I'm not even sure if the next one will be the final chapter either, so what I'm saying is, I am really bad at planning and estimating things and my fics always go on for longer than I thought they would, so yay for you guys I guess.