CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: CLARA’S CHOICE

Clara visited the workroom with William on a bright afternoon in early autumn.
She brought a small bundle of fabric scraps and asked whether she could learn to sew a pocket for her wooden bird.
Mrs. Elkin regarded the child with suspicion.
“Can you follow instructions?”
Clara looked at Selena.
“I am learning.”
“Then sit beside me,” Mrs. Elkin said.
“We shall begin with a straight stitch.”
William remained near the door while the child worked.
Selena noticed that he looked more nervous than Clara.
“She will be fine,” Selena told him.
“I know.”
“You do not look convinced.

”
“I am discovering how difficult it is to watch someone you love make mistakes.”
Selena smiled.
“That is why children need room to make them.”
Clara pricked her finger and gave a startled cry.
William took one step forward, then stopped himself.
Mrs. Elkin handed the girl a clean cloth.
“A needle is sharp,” she said.
“Now you know where to keep your fingers.”
Clara examined the tiny mark.
“May I try again?”
“Of course.”
William exhaled slowly.
Selena looked at him with quiet affection.
“You did very well,” she whispered.
“I did nothing.”
“Exactly.”
By the end of the afternoon,

Clara had made a crooked little pocket.
She presented it to her uncle as though it were a royal gift.
William accepted it with grave ceremony.
“I shall treasure it,” he said.
Clara beamed.
Selena watched them and realized that the most important changes at Oak Haven had not been dramatic declarations.
They had been small moments in which a frightened child learned that she could speak, make mistakes, and still be loved.

CHAPTER NINETEEN: THE QUESTION AT LAST

William asked Selena to walk with him beneath the chestnut trees after Clara returned to the house.
The leaves had begun to turn gold,

and the gravel path was scattered with their shadows.
They walked in silence until the house disappeared behind a bend.
“I have been trying to find the right words,” William said.
“That sounds unlike you.”
“It is becoming a habit where you are concerned.”
Selena smiled.
He stopped beside a stone bench.
“When you first sat beside me, I believed you had come to make a joke at my expense.”
“I know.”
“Then you asked me a question no one else had thought to ask.”
“Whether I might sit?”
“Whether you were welcome.”
Selena looked at him.
“That is not what I said.

”
“It is what I heard.”
William took her hand.
“I have spent years believing that the people who came near me wanted something I could give them.”
“Some of them did.”
“Yes.”
“And some were afraid of you.”
“That too.”
He drew a breath.
“I am not asking you to become a duchess because I need someone to fill an empty chair.”
Selena felt her fingers tighten around his.
“Then what are you asking?”
“I am asking whether you would marry a man who is still learning how to be kind when he is frightened.”
Selena looked toward the distant house.


She thought of Clara, the workroom, her father’s anger, and the years she had spent believing she was too ordinary to be chosen for anything except duty.
“I would,” she said.
William’s expression softened.
“You would?”
“Yes,” Selena answered.
“But I will continue working at the village workroom.”
“I would be disappointed if you did not.”
“And Clara must never be treated as a burden.”
“Never again.”
“And when you are angry, you must tell me why instead of frightening everyone into silence.”
William gave a quiet laugh.
“I begin to see that marriage to you will require considerable effort.

”
“It will,” Selena said.
“On both sides.”
He kissed her hand.
“Then I shall begin at once.”