In Favour |Clara Walseworth|

New expectations ~ Chapter 4

Germany, 1816.

A few weeks had passed since the ball at the palace, and Clara Walseworth found herself back at her aunt's sprawling estate in the quiet German countryside. The once-lush greenery, which had once felt like an escape, now seemed to mock her—its vibrant life standing in stark contrast to her own sense of stagnation and loss. She sat by the window, her gaze lost in the rolling hills outside, the world beyond the glass full of freedom she could no longer reach. The book she had tried—and failed—to read sat abandoned on the small table beside her, its pages untouched.

Since their return from Berlin, the house had been filled with a thick silence. Aunt Polly's lofty ambitions, which had once soared so high, had come crashing down, and Clara felt the weight of her aunt's unspoken disappointment bearing down on her like an unbearable burden. Polly spoke little, but the silence between them was deafening—broken only by the pointed sighs, the tight-lipped glares, and her refusal to mention William's name, all of which spoke volumes. Clara knew, without needing to be told, that she had failed. She had not secured the prince's favor. And now, it seemed, she had slipped entirely from his thoughts.

Clara had known, even before they left for Berlin, that her presence there had been more about Aunt Polly's aspirations than her own. Yet, still, part of her—the naive, hopeful part—had wondered if things might turn out differently. Perhaps, just perhaps, William had seen something in her beyond the grand ballrooms and the rigid expectations of society. But the weeks had passed in silence—no letters, no invitations, no word at all.

She bit her lip, trying to stave off the tears that threatened to spill. She had promised herself she wouldn't hope too much. But the emptiness left behind was sharper and harder to bear than she had imagined. The memory of William's easy smile, the way his eyes had softened when they met hers, haunted her. What could have been.

She had danced with him that night. Spoken with him briefly. But then, she had watched him mingle with so many other women—women far more beautiful, more accomplished, more polished in their manners. It wasn't hard to imagine why she had been forgotten. Polly, of course, reminded her of that daily, though not in so many words.

The door creaked open now, and Clara didn't need to look up to know it was Aunt Polly. Her presence was as cold and imposing as ever. "Clara," her voice was sharp, clipped. "I had hoped for more from you in Berlin." Polly didn't sit but stood, looming over Clara like a shadow, her gaze as harsh as the words.

"I tried, Aunt Polly," Clara whispered, not meeting her eyes. She didn't attempt to argue. She knew better. "Trying is not enough," Polly snapped, her eyes narrowing with quiet fury. "Do you realize what you've cost this family? The opportunity we had?"

Clara flinched, though she had heard worse from Polly before. She lowered her gaze, her fingers nervously twisting the fabric of her skirt. "I'm sorry, Aunt Polly," she murmured, though the words felt hollow.

She wasn't sure what she was apologizing for—failing to win the prince's favor, or for simply being who she was, a young woman who could never fit the mold Polly had tried to force her into.

Polly lingered for a moment longer, her silence heavy with judgment. Then, with a dismissive huff, she turned on her heel and left the room. The door clicked shut behind her, and Clara felt the absence of her aunt's presence settle around her like a cold shadow.

Leaning back in her chair, Clara closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself not to cry. It wasn't just the disappointment of being forgotten by William—it was the constant feeling that she was never good enough. Not for Polly. Not for anyone.

She had been lied too, she had filled her head with empty promise and dreams all because some random mysterious woman many moons ago had knew her name and family. Was she really so naive ?