December 8, 1866
New York, New York
The anticipated conversation sat between us, like a third person in the carriage of whom we were terrified but whom we also desperately wanted to meet. Neither of us wanted to broach the discussion first, but neither wanted to leave the words unsaid.
I remembered my promise to myself aboard the Envoy, that I wouldn’t wait any longer for my life to begin. I had broken that promise to myself over and over, but I would not again. I dove into the deep, frigid waters. “During the intermission, you mentioned the similarity between our situation and that of Alfredo and Violetta,” I said, keeping my eyes fixed on my hands. Summoning my courage to bring up the topic was one thing, but watching the reaction to my bravery was quite another.
“Yes,” he said, swallowing hard. I was not accustomed to hesitation in Andrew’s speech. “There is a divide between us, not as dramatic as that of Alfredo and Violetta, but a divide nonetheless. Ridiculous though it is, because even though we are now master and servant, we are the same. I arrived in this country a destitute immigrant, in a class below yourself.” He took a large breath and then spoke again. “But I hope I’m not wrong in believing that we share feelings for one another. Like Alfredo and Violetta.”
I glimpsed up to find him staring at me, his face expectant yet anxious. “You are not wrong.”
He clasped my hands in his, asking in a voice quaking with emotion, as if he could not believe my words, “Truly?”
“Truly, even though I know it may be hard to believe because I pushed you away a year ago.” His eyes widened with hope, making me hesitate. I pushed myself to say what I must. Voice quivering in fear at his reaction and at the mixed emotions building within me, I said, “Still, in many ways, my feelings are unimportant. You know that I must support my family with my lady’s maid position, and I worry that your affection for me complicates that responsibility. The elite would never allow me into their ranks, and you have made clear that you desire to join them. Since I have no place there, you and I have no place together. We have no future, even if you had wished for one, a presumption on my part, I realize. Please understand that I am grateful for all that you have taught me—and your gift of the shares that will help my family immeasurably—but I think we must acknowledge that this is the end of whatever road we have shared.”
He stared at me, saying nothing. His silence shook me, for Andrew was never silent. Then he did something even more unexpected. He laughed.
“Oh, Clara, this is yet another reason why I love you. Most women, softened by the opera and dress and my words, would have clung to the idea of our union. But you, you are strong and moral and loyal and, above all, honest. You bear all the qualities I admire. Your rejection of me only makes me more certain.”
My brows furrowed in confusion, and my expression must have been almost comical because, glancing over at me, he laughed even harder. “Your pronouncements make me appreciate you more and give me even more faith in our ability to bridge the gap to a permanent union. Clara, if you truly share my feelings, marriage is the bridge I wish to cross.”
“I thought fortune and the acceptance into the societal elite were what you sought?” I asked, my voice now trembling.
“You have taught me that I should carve out a different path. Pedigree, an accident of birth, does not give a man the right to public respect. Only good deeds can do that. Consequently, the ‘upper tens,’ or whatever silly name they call themselves, and their ilk do not matter. You do.” He clasped my hands tighter. “Do you wish to cross this bridge with me?”
What should I say? For so long, I had tried to steel myself against him and my own rogue emotions. I knew my family needed me desperately, and I could not fail them. But could there possibly be a way that I could have both—my family’s well-being and Andrew? I imagined what he and I could accomplish together and doubted that ever again would I meet a man who recognized my full capabilities and who wanted a strong woman by his side.
“I do, Andrew.” Even as I said the words, I wondered whether I’d made the right choice. Could I trust that his whims would not change, that the dark mask would not shift over his face? What if he found out who I really was?
The carriage was dark, save for the passing street gaslights and the odd light streaming from a late-hours pub, but I could hear and feel him draw closer to me. His dark-blue eyes glinted in the low illumination, and I felt his breath on me as he brought his lips to mine.
“We will find a way, Clara. I promise you.”
As his soft lips touched mine, I wondered whether he would find success, as he always did. Would my fate indeed resemble the heroine of Aurora Leigh, who finally united with her love after surmounting countless barricades?
