season?”
His color deepened, whether with embarrassment or anger, Clara couldn’t tell. “If you must know, the cufflinks were for a ball, at which I met Viscount Wrexham, who is keen to finance an expedition. And the farrier bill was for a hunter I rented who threw a shoe when I was riding to the hounds. All activities which have a bearing on my future as a naturalist. I gain more notice socializing than in sequestering myself like a monk.”
Her mind latched onto one phrase. “An expedition? To where?”
“Nothing has been finalized yet. And it needn’t concern you, in any event.”
“Of course it concerns me. I’m to be your secretary.”
Simon’s gaze slid guiltily to his coffee mug. He made no reply.
A growing sense of numbness built in Clara’s chest. It slowed her heart and breath, making her feel as if she were gradually being turned to a block of ice. “Aren’t I?”
“As to that…”
“You promised me, Simon. You said I’d have a role in your work. That you’d make a home for me when you came down from University.”
“And I will.” He met her eyes, his color high. “When I settle, I mean to make you my housekeeper.”
Something inside of Clara shriveled and died. “Your housekeeper?”
He leaned forward in his chair. “You must have known it wouldn’t lead anywhere. The notes and drawings I sent you—they were just a bit of fun. A way to amuse you. It was a kindness, for I knew your life as a companion would be very dull indeed.”
The chill in her blood was positively glacial now, making her shiver from the inside out. She clamped her teeth to stop them chattering.
“Come now,” he said. “You’re intelligent. Smart enough to have taught the young ones at the village school. But my course of study is something outside of your experience. The knowledge is far too complex for a woman.”
“‘Those who admire and love knowledge for its own sake ought to wish to see its elements made accessible to all.’”
“What?”
“Herschel said that.”
He scrunched his brows. “I don’t think so. I didn’t write that in any of my letters.”
“No, you didn’t. I read it myself, in his Preliminary Discourse.” She curved her hands around her mug in a futile attempt to warm them, and stop their trembling. “Do you think I’ve merely been studying your letters? That I haven’t a mind or a thought of my own?” She paused before quoting another passage: “‘Knowledge can neither be adequately cultivated nor adequately enjoyed by a few.’”
“Oh, Clara…” Simon shook his head. “He didn’t mean women. Education in women is only useful insofar as it makes them better wives and mothers. What wife and mother needs a thorough understanding of beetle classification? You’re better off, truly. In time you shall see I’m right.”
Her throat constricted. “You’ve wasted four years of my life.”
“That’s rather hard. What else might you have been doing these four years? After the scandal in Hertfordshire —”
“Which you now acknowledge wasn’t of my making. If you and Mama had only believed me—”
“It’s rather too late to split hairs on the matter. The damage has been done. We’ve all got to move on from it, as best we can. I’m only sorry you had to come all this way. I daresay I should have written to you and Mama about what happened with Bryce-Chetwynde, but there seemed no point in reopening old wounds. Better to let things lie.” He glanced at her coffee. “If you’re not going to drink that, we may as well go.”
Her hands dropped from her mug, as cold as they’d been when first she put them there.
“We’ll collect your bags from the Bell and Swan and then I’ll put you in a cab.” He stood. “You can catch the midday train back to—”
“I don’t require your assistance.”
Simon heaved a sigh. As if he were the put-upon elder brother instead of the much-sacrificed-for younger. “Don’t make things worse, Clara.”
“I mean it.” She rose from her chair and gathered her cloak and