Well, not if she kept moping and never implemented any action to improve her condition. What would it take for her to feel she was moving forward? Where did she hope to end up?
She tarried for hours, debating where she’d like to be in a few years. She refused to stagger around at Ralston Place as Jacob’s unwanted, tedious sister. He’d insisted she was welcome, but she couldn’t bear to be under Roxanne’s thumb and constantly having to remember that she was the poor relative.
That miserable existence wasn’t an option, so what was?
When the afternoon began to wane and she headed inside, she was certain she had it all figured out.
“Hello, Miss Clara.”
Clara glanced up and recognized Miss Ralston who was Captain Ralston’s cousin and fiancée. She had stepped out of the milliner’s shop when Clara was strolling through the village, on her way home from school.
“Hello to you too, Miss Ralston.” She curtsied to her even though she wasn’t certain a curtsy was appropriate.
“Why are you alone?”
“I attend school, but classes are finished for the afternoon.”
“You attend school? Aren’t you lucky? Are you a good student or are your studies boring?”
“I’m a very good student.”
Clara’s cheeks heated. She shouldn’t have offered such a vain comment. Joanna always urged her to be more modest.
Miss Ralston smirked. “You’re not humble, are you?”
“I shouldn’t have bragged. I apologize.”
She wasn’t sorry though. She liked being smart, and she was glad she was. Joanna was very smart, and their Aunt Pru had been smart too. Clara wanted to be like them when she grew up.
Miss Ralston gestured down the block to where her carriage was parked. “I’m heading in your same direction. Shall we walk together?”
“That would be fine.”
They started off, ambling side by side, but it was very awkward. Miss Ralston seemed very stuffy, very posh, and Clara couldn’t think of a single topic that might interest her.
“How do you like living out in the cottage with your Aunt Joanna?” Miss Ralston asked.
“I like it very much. It’s perfect for us.”
“How long have you been there? I don’t recall what your aunt told me.”
“We moved to the area when I was a baby, so it’s been almost ten years.”
“You’re nine?”
“Yes.”
“You weren’t born here?”
“No.”
“Where were you born?”
“I’m sure you’ve never heard of the town.”
“Tell me anyway.” Miss Ralston’s tone was very sharp.
Clara peeked up at her. The woman’s lips were pursed so tightly that Clara wondered if she’d been impertinent, and she was suffering from the strongest perception that she shouldn’t provide the name of the spot, but she said, “It was Telford.”
“Telford!” Miss Ralston practically spat it out.
It was obvious she yearned to pry out other information, but Clara peered down the street, and Joanna was coming toward her. She sighed with relief.
“There’s Joanna,” she said. “I have to go.”
She rushed away, and when she reached her aunt, Joanna appeared very worried.
“What were you chatting about with Miss Ralston?” she asked.
“Nothing. I bumped into her by accident.”
Joanna glared at Miss Ralston, and Miss Ralston glared back, her expression scary to witness, then she whipped away and climbed in her vehicle.
“I don’t think she likes us,” Clara said.
“I don’t think she likes anyone. It’s not just us.”
“She looks like me. Did you notice?”
Joanna blanched. “No, I didn’t notice. It’s your blond hair making you seem similar.”
“Mine is prettier than hers.”
Joanna chuckled. “You need to work on your humility.”
They headed for home, and it was Clara’s favorite part of the day—when she had Joanna all to herself.
“Miss Ralston is so grouchy,” she said, “and Captain Ralston is so nice. Will he like being married to her?”
“We probably oughtn’t to speculate about it. Their life at the manor isn’t any of our business.”
“Do you know what I wish would happen? I wish he’d marry you.”
“Why would you even ponder such a peculiar notion?”
“He’s sweet on you,” she said, “and I saw you kissing. He wouldn’t kiss you unless he was very fond.”
“We’re not ever mentioning that, remember? Besides, he has a path that’s quite different from mine.”
“I bet he’d be much happier wed to you than her.”
Joanna stopped and stared up at the sky, as if she was searching for guidance from the heavens. Ultimately, she said, “Could we not talk about him?”
“I like talking about him, but we don’t have to.”
“Let me tell you something much more interesting. It’s a fun surprise.”
“Ooh, I love surprises.”
“I met a man on the lane by our cottage. A Mr. Periwinkle? He’s a reporter for a London newspaper. He is writing a story about me.”
“About your healing or your clairvoyance?”
“About the shipwreck! It’s the twentieth anniversary, and people are curious about how I’ve fared over the years.”
“There will be an article in the newspaper? Are you positive you’d like that? Your past won’t be buried then.”
“He claims their readers have fretted over how my life unfolded, if I’ve been safe and cared for, and I’d like to assure them that it’s been grand. I’m tired of hiding my identity.”
“I’ve never understood why you were so wary. If I’d been a Lost Girl, I couldn’t have been silent about it.”
“Guess what else.”
“What?”
“He’s planning a reunion—for me, Caro, and Libby!”
Clara had frequently heard about the three of them, how they’d been rescued by Captain Ralston’s father. She thought it was the most thrilling tale ever, and it was so hard to bite down on the truth. She was forced to keep many secrets about Joanna, but her being a Lost Girl was the most difficult one of all.
“After it’s in the newspaper,” Clara said, “will I be able to discuss it?”
“Yes.”
“Finally,” Clara mumbled.
She could never figure out why it was such a huge issue. It concerned Joanna’s mother leaving England in such
