Free Outcasts by Sarah Stegall

fist, staring at it. “The damned entailment. My father will not see reason.”
    Mary nodded. Shelley’s father, Sir Timothy, had refused Shelley’s proposal to break the entail on some of the property he had inherited from his grandfather, and settle it on his female relatives. Sir Timothy’s outrage had extended to cutting off his son and heir from all but a pitiful stipend. “A terrible waste, to be sure. Godwin would have railed against it.”
    â€œHe is correct, of course. Money should belong to those who can use it to forward the bettering of society,” Shelley declared passionately. “And what better use to make of it than the education and upbringing of children? Let them only be brought up in Godwin’s principles of justice and fairness, with love and care, andthe world will be changed in a generation!”
    â€œWe have, I fear, strayed from the difficulty,” Mary said. She was all too familiar with her father’s philosophy of utilitarianism, having been raised in it. “What shall we do about Claire?”
    â€œI take it she has said nothing to Byron?”
    â€œNo, I do not believe she has. We must wait until she does so. Pray do not tell her that you know. We must see how matters go forward at dinner. Perhaps she will tell him tonight.”
    â€œIn any case, we must be sure that Claire is provided for, one way or the other,” Shelley said firmly.
    Mary fought down a spurt of anger. “Must we? Is Claire really our responsibility?”
    Shelley turned and their eyes met. In that candid blue gaze, as always, Mary could detect no hint of subterfuge. Would she never stop worrying about his ties to her, to their child? “You speak of responsibility,” Shelley said. “Will you not speak of love? Do we not love Claire, our sister?”
    â€œPerhaps,” she said. “One thing must be clear: Godwin cannot know of this.”
    â€œWhy not? We have made no secret of our situation, of our son.”
    Mary nodded. “No, we have not. And I am at home with that position, and all the infamy that it brings us. No, you must, you really must admit that our liaison has brought us nothing but condemnation.”
    Shelley stared down at the table, one finger pushing at a heap of fabric until it fell over, unraveling across the floor. “No, you are correct, dear Mary. But why would we care? Indeed, I vow that Claire herself is more in favor of our principles than we are!”
    â€œYou are right,” Mary said. “And for that reason, she must be protected. She does not reason, she does not understand what will happen to her, without a protector.”
    â€œShe should not need one!” Shelley declared forcefully. “It is a damned outrage that a woman cannot live her life as she pleases.”
    â€œYou know that my sentiments match yours in this, dearest, but that is not to the point. Claire will have to live in this world.She will be judged on appearances; no one will care for who she is on the inside.”
    He sighed and came forward. Stooping, he laid his forehead against Mary’s. “I will speak to Byron, when the time comes. There must be some way to persuade him. Until then, I shall keep silent about Claire’s condition. Should we ask Doctor Polidori to examine her?”
    Mary shook her head. “No. He would tell Byron, and such news should come to him from … someone he respects.”
    Shelley chuckled. “And who might that be, Mary?”
    She smiled a tight smile. “A conundrum, to be sure.”
    Mary backed away and began gathering her sewing together and putting it in its box. “It is getting late, Shelley. If we are to make it to Byron’s at a reasonable time, we had better change.”
    Shelley looked at one of his coat cuffs, then the other. Both had been made by a famous tailor in London; all of Shelley’s clothes were of the finest materials, the best workmanship.