Months turned into years, and Clara's role in the Baron's life became more entrenched. Her family's fortunes improved dramatically; their debts were paid, their home repaired, and her siblings given opportunities she could never have dreamed of.
But Clara's own heart grew heavy. While she appreciated the life of luxury and the Baron's kindness, she longed for freedom. She missed the open fields of Whistlewood, the laughter of her brothers, and the simplicity of her old life.
One evening, as the Baron sat by the fire, a glass of brandy in hand, Clara gathered her courage.
"Arthur," she began softly, using his name for the first time, "do you ever regret this arrangement?"
He looked at her, his gray eyes shadowed. "Regret? Perhaps. But I could not let you slip away, Clara. You are the only light in my life."
His words struck her deeply, for they were filled with a lonely truth. Arthur, for all his wealth and power, was a man haunted by his past—by a loveless marriage that had ended in tragedy, by children who barely spoke to him, and by the relentless passage of time.
"I do not begrudge you your happiness," she said gently. "But sometimes I wonder what my life might have been, had I not taken this path."
He sighed and reached for her hand. "You deserve more than I can give you, Clara. I've known that from the beginning. But selfishness kept me from letting you go."
YOU ARE READING
❝𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐦𝐬❞
PoetryIn this book, you will find gothic and chilling poems, letters and stories that will make the hair on your arms stand up with so much fascination and horror. Everything written in this book is my own. And it is my first book of poems and among other...
