“You deserve all the kindness in this world, Claire,” he told her. “That and so much more.”
She did not know how to respond to his heartfelt words. She only knew that his kindness felt like a soothing balm upon her soul, even for just a little while.
Too bad I did not bring my sketchbook with me, she thought regretfully.Maybe today is the day that I can finally see what my masterpiece has been missing…
She stared out of the carriage window and allowed the cool air to caress her. She missed having the open air on her face but she could not even imagine getting on a horse as she used to do almost every morning.
Now, I am actually going to see London…see the grand structures and the buildings…I should be happy but I still feel sad.
Since Claire had already seen most of Mayfair, they toured the other places where she had yet to visit.
As Claire leaned out the window, she caught herself staring in awe at all the architectural marvels laid out before her.
Not unlike art, she could almost feel the soul of the architect that designed these buildings. While the likes of Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci painted and sculpted, she marveled at the passion that brought these buildings to life.
What vision!
Towards the end of their tour, Oliver instructed the coach to take them along the Thames so Claire could even see the new bridges that were being built, leaving no stone unturned.
By the time they returned to the townhouse, Claire felt her spirit rejuvenated and her sadness, although it lingered, was not as heavy as it had been the past few days.
She turned to Oliver with shining eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for today, Your Grace.”
Oliver smiled at her. “You are most welcome, Claire. You can ask anything of me. I am at your disposal.”
She shook her head. “Oh no, I cannot possibly detract you from important matters like business and—”
He held up a hand and she closed her mouth. “Nothing is more important than you, right now,” he told her firmly. “Whether you need a quick jaunt around London to clear your head or you just need someone to sit beside you, I will always be here for you.”
Claire flushed at his declaration. His dear face, which she had known since childhood, suddenly took on a different countenance. In that moment, he was not like the Oliver she had known but aman.
“You are very kind to us, Your Grace,” she choked. “I will remember your kindness forever.”
“Just be happy, Claire. Your happiness is all I want.”
She shook her head. “But it is so difficult to be happy right now. There are so many things that I wanted to tell Father, so many things I wanted to show him.” The tears slipped down her cheeks. “I…I had not even shown him my designs yet.”
He smiled at her. “I am sure that Lord Rowley can see your designs where he is right now and that he is very proud of you, Claire. After my parents died, I found it helpful to talk to them as if they were still right here with me. Of course, only when I was alone,” he amended with a smile. “Otherwise, they might have thought me mad and sent me to Bedlam.”
She choked on her laughter. “That sounds like a lovely thought, Your Grace. I shall think about Father when I draw again.”
“You can talk to him and describe what you are doing,” Oliver told her. “Sometimes, I even ask Father questions on how to best run the business.”
Later that night, after they had an early dinner and she got ready for bed, Claire opened her leather-bound journal to write about her day. After learning of her father’s death, she had barely made another entry because her heart had been so heavy, she could hardly lift her pencil.
Tonight, though, she could write about something else beside the pain in her heart.
She paused for a while, unsure of what to put down on paper, when an idea struck her.
She could write to her dear Father!
Taking her quill, she began.
She wrote of all she had seen today, the magnificent buildings she had only dreamed of before, the parts of London she had not seen while she busied herself running from one social event to another. She wrote of the Thames and the bridges.
She wrote of how she missed him, how she thought she had seen his face in the crowd, only to realize it wasn’t him and that she would never see him again.
“But you are with me now and always,” she wrote to him. “You are with me when I wake and when I sleep, when I eat and when I dream and mostly, when I draw.”
