Clara sat at her vanity and stared at the reflection. She no longer recognized the woman that looked back at her through her eyes.
She pulled out her journal and dipped her pen in the ink. These were the thoughts that rambled through her mind.
"Sometimes it is hard to see ourselves as others do... once a lover stops loving the mirror gets clouded and no longer reflects the person needed to be seen."
She shook the setting powder across the page and blew on it lightly before shutting the pages away again.
"Miss Clara, are you alright?"
Rosalyn, her chambermaid, had knocked several times but her mistress had not answered. The entire household was concerned about the melancholy mood of their mistress. She normally wore a sweet smile and talked with them and joked with them, she was very much a part of them.
She had left with her brother and his family and had comeback quite altered. Rosalyn greatest fear was that her moods would take a turn for the worse, without Mr. McAllister home they were quite at a loss as to what to do.
It has been two months since he left and Miss Clara had rarely surfaced from her room. Most of the plates of food were left barely touched. She appeared to be an empty shell, and when she did wander, it was almost like watching an apparition appear and travel through the halls.
"Miss Clara? I have your dinner miss?" Rosalyn tried again.
"Leave it," was the answer that came, followed by a softer, "Please."
"As you wish," Rosalyn placed the tray by her door.
Clara knew she could not carry on in this way. Her moods and actions are most likely reported on a regular basis to Benjamin. She did not feel it was right to continue to worry him in this way. She had made up her mind of what her next move would be.
She pulled her journal out again. With a flourish, she wrote...
A self-inflicted torment,
I do share with another.
A bond, a vow,
Broken somehow.
No one at fault.
No one to blame,
but the pain and the torment
Are felt just the same.
A single tear had hit the page smudging the ink. She pulled out a piece of paper and began to write a letter. The servants would know how to reach him. She will just leave it here with instructions for Rosalyn to find.
She could not live this life anymore. She could not go on having just her memories to keep her comfort. Her thoughts were her enemy. She will free him from his vow, let him live the life he was meant for. She refused to be his Achilles heel.
She opened the door between their rooms, and rummaged through his belongings taking what she needed, she set the room right again, so it continued to appear undisturbed.
She stood in front long length mirror and stripped down in front of it. She began assessing. A womanly figure she had no longer her curves worn away by her neglect, now she was all points and angles.
She pulled her hair from its confines. It has long ago lost its luster and now looked as dull as her complexion, which suited her just fine. She took her needlepoint scissors and hacked away its length. The deep brown, nearly ebony in color, pieces feel in dark pool around her feet.
"That will do," she said, she dressed and cleaned up every bit of hair throwing it over the balcony to be taken away by the wind, all except one lock she braided into a ring and put in the letter to Benjamin that she now sealed.
She took one last look around the room. The soft surrounding meant to comfort were now confining, the bed they shared empty, as it should be. She threw a few items into her travel satchel; she would need to walk to the first carriage inn. She knew the way.
She threw the bag off the balcony and tested the rose trellis that climbed the side of the house. It would support her weight. She weighed next to nothing and quickly made her descent. In the cover of night, she left her world, her belongings, and her life behind but what she really left behind was her heart. It was no longer needed or wanted.
It took quite some time to get to the carriage inn. She knew she had to keep moving. Her goal was the docks in London. It was a risky move, to go where she knew Benjamin may be but if only she could reach the docks she could look for employment, perhaps as a cabin boy or valet.
By all appearances, she looked like a teenage boy. If she could land a job aboard a ship then she would be out of reach. He'd have no way of finding her and have to give up on the search altogether.
It seemed harsh, but she knew no other way. Her status and positions would not allow her to file for a divorce. She did not wish to ruin his name in such a way and although they did not have any children, an annulment by the church was out of the question as she was no longer a virgin.
It had to be a clean break. She knew she would risk life and limb but this was how it must be.
She decided to go by Mail Coach. No one dared to stop the King's mail, so she would get to London that much quicker. She would not need to stable a horse once she got to Town so that also saved her time and money, and it was slightly safer as there was always a King's guard on board.
She traveled on the roof of the coach, as it was half the price of taking a seat within only costing her a few pence as opposed to a pound. She arrived at the Gloucester Coffee-house in Piccadilly.
Clara felt invigorated by the ride and felt her appetite return with some force after such an adventure, but refused to take a bite until she reached the docks. She was less than an hour walk away.
She wished for a moment she could see him, to see Benjamin one last time, but she knew it was a foolish thought. She took a moment, however, to jot down her thoughts upon arriving.
An adventure I have begun
Yet my heart is left unsung
It cries for the one it lost
I fear it must be tossed.
She placed the ornate metal graphite holder, reverently in her journal and placed the book in her bag. Benjamin had it made for her as a wedding gift, wanting to free her mind from the confines of quill and ink.
"Right then, Clara. Time to move those feet."
It was still early morning at the docks and Clara was shocked at the sea of men that collected at the dock gates, all wanting jobs. Thousands of them pressed together. So thick was the crowd that when one was picked he would have to physically climb over the others and the gate to get to the shipmaster.
"This is going to be harder than I thought."
Clara remembered Benjamin telling her of the conditions things had fallen into. So many have been put out of work with industries moving to machines and farmlands disappearing.
I may have to rethink this plan, Clara thought dejected, knowing she would never be able to make it through the throngs of men to be even seen to get picked. So, she opted to get some breakfast.
She decided it best to check the Taverns first. The pubs may be far too dangerous a prospect for her to entertain. Being so scrawny, although tall, no one seemed to pay her much attention. She stopped briefly to check the postings to see if there were any openings for a cabin boy or valet but sadly there were none.
Her initial enthusiasm had all but disappeared. She was tired and worn out from her travels and from not eating. Soon a woman had approached.
"Well aren't you a youngin' to be hanging about the docks. You know they be pressin' men into service for the crown so keep your head down, lad. A young thing like you is likely to get snapped up."
Not knowing what she should say if she spoke, Clara shook her head that she understood.
"I'll bring you a bite to eat. That is if you got the coin to pay for it?"
Clara slid some coins across the table and the woman smiled. "A working lad. If that be the case perhaps you and I may make additional arrangements when you've had your fill?"
Additional arrangements?
The sudden realization that this woman was speaking of hiring her body out for sex caused Clara to immediately color.
The woman found it endearing. "Don't tell you're a first-timer," she laughed heartily at the very idea, the boy looked to be about sixteen, perhaps even a little older.
"I'll bring you some wine to go with your bread. It all becomes easier if you are a little bit foxed."
Clara was grateful the woman walked away. Good lord! How is she going to talk her way out of this one? In fact, how is she to talk at all. She had not given any thought that her voice might give her away.
She was pondering this very question when a large shadow had fallen over her table.
"You there? Boy? Have you no sense? Move your arse now or I'll be usin' your head for target practice."
Clara pointed to her chest. Looking at the rather large man in disbelief.
"Yes, you? Are ya deaf, boy?"
Clara shook her head no in response. The man lunged forward, not realizing her "No" was in response to his statement, not her refusal to leave. Clara was yanked from her seat. Her legs left dangling in the air, a few inches from the floor. He shook her like she were a rag doll.
"That there be my Captain's table and I'll not be havin' it littered by a vermin like you when he gets here!"
Clara did not know if it was fear or sheer insanity that prompted her next move. With all the force she could muster Clara swung her foot making a connection between the giants' legs, causing perfusion of swear words to spill forth from his lips. He doubled over in pain, and although her feet were now back on the ground, he refused to relinquish his grasp on her.
"You will pay for that," he grunted between jagged gasps.
She was in way too deep now. Clara grabbed a penknife from her pocket and cut the man's hand. Letting out another groan the man threw her against the wall, nearly knocking her unconscious.
Clara fought the blackness threatening to overcome her. She gulped for the air that escaped her lungs. Frantically she looked for a route of escape. She found with despair there was none.
She could try and run past the giant to reach the doorway, but noticing how all the attention in the room now seemed focused on the two them, someone would surely nab her before she reached the door.
Accepting her fate, but not without a fight, Clara rose slowly using the wall as support. With her small penknife in hand, she faced her death.
"There's nowhere to run boy."
And with that the man let out a low chuckle, resounding deep within his throat, giving it an animal like quality as he pointed out the obvious. He swung at her but she was quick to dodge the attack and his fist hit the wood pillar behind her. Another stream of obscenities flowed freely from his mouth.
"I will squash you little mouse."
He swung again but again Clara dodged. This time however she nicked him with her knife as she swung it wildly as she dodged. He let out a war-like cry, and Clara's eyes widened as she realized his intention was to rush her. She couldn't out flank him this time. There was nowhere to run.
Bracing for impact, she heard from somewhere in the room,
"Hold, Angus! What's this all about? It's not even noon and you're about to cause us to be thrown out of another tavern?"