metanoia // bridgerton.

•part forty-four•

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Clyvedon, 1813.

Miss Marina Thompson's recent fall from grace continues to echo through every drawing room in town, days after it was revealed her engagement to Colin Bridgerton was nothing more than a sham.

Of course, a lady's disgrace does not merely tarnish her own name. Like the tars of the Thames, it also leaves a horrid smear on anyone nearby.

While there is no parasol in the world strong enough to shelter a ruined woman, the fallen Miss Thompson can only hope she shall find a refuge somewhere.

••••••

MERELY a week had passed since the infamous and insightful night where Clara and Simon turned to strangers from two people in love. Clara was hurt, far more than she realized, especially by Simon's last words to her that perhaps he should've married Daphne instead.

Clara knew there was some truth to those words even if he seemed regretful and apologized for saying them. She was well aware it would've been easier with a clueless girl instead of a woman who knew more than he would've liked. And yet not even this was the worst part of their fight. It was the constant worry that she was with child. Surely, a week was not a good time to tell, and not even doctors would be able to tell whether she was with one or not so early after it happened.

Clara prayed every night not to give birth nine months later, she prayed that one time did nothing to her, and that she'd not become with child so early in her life. However, despite all the prayers or all the disdained looks towards her husband Clara knew it wasn't enough. If it had happened already it was there and her fear grew each day, the days until her courses not far away. Clara hoped to see blood like she had never before, she hoped to move on with her life as if nothing ever happened, but it did happen and she thought she'd never forgive Simon for lying to her or putting her in such position.

Deep down she felt agony, especially by the idea that she still loved Simon despite what he had done. Every time they'd meet or see each other a part of her would loathe him, but the other would long for him. Clara wanted to talk to him, to ask him why he had truly lied when she wanted honesty, but her pride was a big prideful thing, not allowing her to approach Simon with one last peace offering.

However, Simon had done nothing to apologize to her, for some unexplainable reason he seemed just as angry as she was, perhaps even afraid their rendezvous did end up bearing a child he so not wanted. Clara, though wishing to make amends someday, would not take the first step until he would, and even then her pride had been too humiliated.

Clara felt exhausted every day after that night, she could barely eat, sleep or smile, too broken hearted by a man she thought loved her and regarded her highly. The two would meet up only by accidents, whether it was bumping into each other in the halls or only in the evening when they had their dinner. And even then Clara could barely eat, feeling his stare at her, and would leave with her plate, rather eating by herself in her bedroom, away from a man who may or may not have given her a child she was not ready for. Did not want it.