In Favour |Clara Walseworth|

A royal matter ~ Chapter 1

Germany, 1816.

The youngest Walseworth peered out of the carriage window, her breath fogging the glass as the rolling hills of the German countryside stretched out before her. The vibrant green pastures seemed to dance in the golden light of late afternoon, dotted with wildflowers in hues of purple and yellow. A faint breeze carried the earthy scent of summer, mingling with the ever-present aroma of leather and the musky warmth of the horses pulling their carriage. Clara could scarcely believe she was so far from home. Her world until now had consisted of the genteel comforts of England—manicured gardens, drawing rooms filled with laughter, and sunlit walks through shaded parks. Now, she was journeying to Berlin, a city she could only imagine in half-formed dreams and whispered stories.

At nineteen, Clara had expected her life to look very different. By now, she imagined herself back in England, hosting afternoon teas and promenading with suitors through Hyde Park. She could picture Gerard, her ever-watchful older brother, frowning disapprovingly at any gentleman who dared offer his hand. Eden would hover nearby, offering her gentle guidance in the language of courtship, while George would slouch in a chair, pretending to enjoy a pot of Lizzie's over-brewed tea. Those were her dreams—familiar, simple, and comforting. Yet here she was, hurtling toward Berlin at her aunt Polly's command, far from everything she had known and loved.

Aunt Polly sat opposite her, a pillar of elegance, authority and...time. Wrapped in dark silks that shimmered like stars in moonlight, her aunt was every inch the poised lady Clara aspired to be. Her jewelry glittered with every movement, catching the light in flashes of brilliance, and her sharp blue eyes rarely rested. Polly had an air of knowing about her, a presence so commanding that Clara often felt like a mere shadow in her company.

"We shall arrive in Berlin shortly," Polly announced, smoothing an invisible crease on her gown. Her tone was clipped, her words measured. "You must be on your best behavior, Clara. The German court is not forgiving, and our reputation rests upon your conduct."

Clara swallowed hard and nodded, though her chest fluttered with a nervous energy she couldn't quite tame. "Yes, Aunt Polly," she murmured, clasping her hands in her lap. She tried to ignore the ache in her back from sitting so stiffly for hours.

Berlin. The name alone conjured images of grand palaces, glittering salons, and elegant people speaking in lilting, foreign tongues. Clara's heart leapt with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Would they truly be as imposing as Aunt Polly had warned? She glanced down at her gown—it would have been adored in England she would have been the talk of the ton but here ? They were royals. Even in the elegant white silk and large feathers and family jewels. Would she appear hopelessly plain among them? Her aunt's expectations loomed over her like a storm cloud, and though Clara did not fully understand the stakes, she knew her role was critical.

"You must remember, Clara," Polly continued, her tone softening only slightly, "your future depends on this. The right marriage will secure not just your place in society but the standing of the Walseworth name."

Clara felt her cheeks warm. Marriage. Of course. It was always about marriage. Her aunt had made it abundantly clear that Clara's sole purpose in Berlin was to attract the eye of a prince or duke—someone whose name would elevate the Walseworths to even greater heights. Clara understood this was her duty, but she could not help the flurry of girlish hopes that danced in her heart. What if he were handsome and kind, like the heroes in the novels Eden read to her as a girl? What if this journey, so carefully orchestrated by her aunt, truly led to her fairytale ending?

The carriage jolted as the cobblestones of Berlin replaced the dirt roads of the countryside. Clara leaned forward, her wide eyes taking in the bustling streets. Merchants called out in lively German, and women in colorful skirts hurried past, baskets of fresh bread or flowers balanced on their hips. Horse-drawn carriages rattled by, their drivers shouting to clear the way. Above it all rose the spires of grand buildings—churches, palaces, and ornate mansions that seemed to scrape the sky. Clara's breath caught in her throat. It was so much larger, so much grander than anything she had imagined.