While 'Conway' and Albert took to gazing upon the vast array of truly, curious items, Clara pulled Vera aside, and out into the hallway. There, the Frau uttered an annoyed sigh, her ivory cigarette holder bobbing up and down in her hand as she swiveled it with a certain degree of irritation. At first, Vera did not speak a word, for fear that Shay and her were found out. However, that did not seem to be the case, as the Frau moved to the opposing wall, and gazed steadily at her own reflection in a mirror trimmed in gold. Vera fidgeted with the hem of her blouse, uneasy at the idea of being alone with the lady of the house, especially without being in company of Shay. 


"Do you love him?" Clara asked, the reflection of her face in the mirror showed that her gaze and switched to gaze back at Vera.


"Pardon me?"


"Conway, my dear girl. Do you [i]love[/i] him?" With a crestfallen sigh, one that hinted at some past misfortune unbeknownst to her.


"Without a doubt in my heart, Frau von Goethe. May I propose the question as to what makes you ask me such a peculiar question?" 


"Walk with me," Here she extended her elbow for her to take, to which Vera linked her arm without hesitating, "let the men be men, and stare in stupefied wonder at their whimsical trinkets." Together, with elbows hooked, the Frau and Vera set off down the hallway, the clack of their heels against the stone flooring being the only sound in the entire manor it seemed.


"I was young once, like you, but nay, not as lucky as you, I daresay. Shall I tell you the story of how Albert and I came to be?" Here, Clara cast a sideways glance at the woman on her, making certain that she paid close attention.


"I would be delighted to hear it. Please, go on." She encouraged.


"It is not a delightful tale, alas, it happened nevertheless. You see, my family, we hailed from Trier, one of the oldest cities in all of Germany. We were apart of the Uradel. And as such, we have been nobles in the Fatherland since time immemorial, as the saying goes. However, it is but a curse to be a Uradel as well, for there are far and few of us now living. We are but a dying breed. My ancestral line, up to about twenty years before I was born, my mother had to marry beneath her rank, for shame. The family money was dwindling due to the irresponsibility of her grandfather, squandered away in years of lucrative foolishness from gambling, drinking, and whores. When it came to me, our family was near destitute, the lack of funds made us near equivalent to the common man, save for our title. My mother was a resourceful woman, she used the curtains in our home for our clothes, for they were of the finest brocade at the time, and replaced them with inexpensive muslin. On the land where my family home stood, my father and brothers hunted for our food out of necessity, instead of it being for sport. By the summer of my 17th birthday, my mother left me in a perplexing situation when she announced my sudden betrothal to Albert. I wept for days on end, for I could not fathom a life for myself with a man I did not love, especially a man fifteen years my senior. And while she tried to soothe my heart with comforting words, I could not shake from my head the shock I felt at knowing my future. Needless to say, when we were married, I held resentment in my heart, even when our son was born, for I never loved Albert. In the very least, I do love my son with all of my heart. So you see, dear girl, the reasoning towards my bitterness towards you, and for that I apologize deeply." While she spoke, Vera held the Frau in a new light, a light of awe and surprise, one that left her shocked, and feeling deep sympathy towards the older woman on her arm. 


"Frau-"


"Clara. There is no need for formalities now." The Frau interjected, and for once, a softened smile graced her lips.


"I am honored to hold privy to such astonishing facts about your life, I would have never expected such misfortune to befall you as it had." Vera returned, giving a gentle squeeze to Clara's hand.


"As a woman from the Fatherland, it is comforting to confide in a woman such as yourself, for I see much of myself in you. Before the war broke out, I participated in several of the women's suffragette rallies, I chained myself to government fences, donated what money I could siphon away from Albert, and even bailed out a few women from Holloway." With that she sighed, as if remembering a different time, a look of nostalgia descended over her, for her eyes grew distant as she gazed on ahead, and so they walked on in momentary silence.


       Rather peculiarly, Vera caught sight of the aforementioned painting by Monet. And such, she reacted with pure curiosity, stopping Clara mid-step, and gestured with her hand for them to inspect the painting. "My goodness, what a beautiful replication." Vera commented offhandedly, pulling out of their hooked elbows, and approached the framed painting.


"Oh it is not a replication, not that one. That is the original by Monet himself. Albert insisted on purchasing it. He said it reminded him of our honey moon in Prague. There was a bridge much like this in one of the parks. I never cared much for it anyways." She added as she relighted her cigarette at the end of the holder.


"Truly? I would have never expected to see an original in a private collection." Vera mused, she would tell Shay as soon as possible.


"Mhmm. Well, dear girl, I believe our luncheon should be ready, let us collect our men, so we see that they don't forget to feed themselves proper, and then we'll make our way to the tea room." Clara said with a smile of newfound friendship.