To Dishonour A Duke

Chapter Fifteen

Clara manages to slip through the corridor, out of the front door and onto Fairfield Street before Kitty's biting nails clamp down upon her forearm. She inhales sharply as she stumbles down the steps, the other girl desperately trying to hold her back. With the night's drinks reaching Kitty's head, she slips off the top and flattens Clara against the railing as she falls onto the pavement with an ear-piercing shriek. Lady Rochford, Beatrice and George are quick to appear at the door, and George hurries to help Clara up. He pulls her away from the metal railing and looks her up and down to assess the damage.  

"Did people follow?" She murmurs, pushing his hands off her, her head slightly lowered.

"I don't...?" He looks behind to see the guests gathering in the hallway of Elizabeth's house, and in the street, there are those that are delaying their departure to watch the action unfolding; each guest craning their neck with eager interest. He leans in close to Clara. "They saw it was Kitty who put a hand on you, do not worry about them." 

She ignores him and walks down the steps to where Kitty is sprawled on the stone, her hair unravelling and smears of makeup across her face. "What do you have to say now?" She asks, spreading her arms, "You have our attention, so please, if you have any more insults that you need to say, then do. We are all waiting." 

Kitty sits up, wobbling, her dress laying around her. She sniffles and looks up at Lady Rochford.  "Mother?" 

Lady Rochford blanches with the gaze of society now cast on her person. To her credit, she draws herself up to her full height and gracefully walks down the steps to help her daughter to her feet. Then, she turns to address Clara. "I do not disagree with what has been said. Your family is a disgrace to our society, and we should be forced to associate with you." 

A murmuring runs through the crowd, tension forming. A few cast disparaging looks towards Clara, the judgment unmistakable in their eyes. Spurred on, Kitty takes a shaky step towards her, a sharp nail pointed and a haughty expression on her smudged face. 

 "Your mother is a gold-digging whore and your brother is weak." She snarls, "You and your brother are both cowards who are disgracing your family name. Your father would be ashamed of you all, and how far you have fallen!" 

The silence that follows is uncomfortable and harsh as Clara swallows the lump in her throat. "You have a right to address how you feel," she says, her voice cracking, "I know that there is much for me to be ashamed of, however, I will try my very best to uphold the morals that society expects of me." 

"How?" Kitty sneers, "You are alone. Your family have left you, and they have left you with nothing. You are nothing." 

The hush that follows her statement is devastating. It creeps over the heads of all the guests and infects the street; the wind falls to nothing and even the gutter rats cease squeaking from under their feet. A loud ringing is echoing through Clara's head as she becomes stuck to the pavement, her expression empty as she stares at Kitty's triumphant face. George takes hold of her arm and tries to pull her away, but she is glued to her spot. He mutters something, lets go and walks a few paces away, throwing disgusted looks at the observers.  

"I think you should leave," Lady Rochford says, shaking her hair from her face, "You have no friends here." 

Clara looks around, but everyone lowers their heads and avoids her eyes. Elizabeth De Roch catches her gaze and a sympathetic look crosses her face but it hardens as there is nothing she can do.  

"Clara." George extends his arm, gritting his teeth. She glides over to him, feeling the stares and hostility of those around her. Their glares burn into the back of her neck making her shoulders drop down with every step. A blush spreads from her cheeks to the tips of her ears as the whispers whip around the street, snide murmurs muttered behind hands growing louder with each comment.