Miss Sophie's Secret (12 page)

“Cousin,” she began, “it is a very long time since we made those vows, and I was a child then who had no conception of what I was promising. I understand that there is a young lady named Julia Woodson—”

“So that is the bee you have got in your bonnet!” he cried, laughing sharply. “She is nothing to me. A charming girl, but . . . her people are from the low country. She likes meadows and rolling hills. She would never be happy in the midst of crags and storms and raging seas, as we are.”

Sophie frowned. “There has been such a long silence between us . . .”

“How could I have changed that?”

“You could have written.”

“Indeed, I could not! It would have been the shabbiest sort of insult to a young lady to whom I was not formally engaged.”

“You could have written to Aunt Ruth and sent messages for me.”

He shook his head. “It would have been necessary for me to explain my situation at home, and my words would have smacked of whining and complaints. What sort of man would you have thought me if I had sent you long dirges.”

Sophie smiled at him. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve met again and we’re friends. I’m looking forward to the London season in the spring.”

He nodded, but there was a tightness around his mouth. After a few steps he relaxed and smiled at her. “If you will allow me to call,” he continued. “Aunt Ruth is not at home to me these days. I shall be obliged to fight my way through storms and hostility in order to advance my suit. In case we’re kept apart until Countess Dangerfield’s ball, may I have the pleasure of dancing with you that night?”

“Yes, indeed,” she said. “I shall enjoy that.”

They walked on in silence for a time and then Albert said, “I should very much like to have you and Aunt Ruth visit Stonehaven next summer. You’ll be surprised to discover how beautiful the island is. Storm-tossed, I grant you, but beautiful. And the castle is especially well placed on a considerable crag overlooking the sea. Unfortunately, the entire isle is rocky. The soil is very shallow and poor. We’re attempting to enrich it at the present time using Mr. Coke’s methods—with a minimum of success, so far, but we are showing some progress.

“However,” he went on, “the entire place is wonderfully picturesque, and we’ll be able to make you comfortable, I promise. I’ll put you and Aunt Ruth into a suite of rooms that has a marvelous view from its windows. The bedrooms have recently been paneled to keep out the wind, and the adjacent sitting room is being draped with heavy new tapestries, to the same end. It will be quite comfortable, I assure you.”

“I shall discuss the possibility with Aunt Ruth,” Sophie said.

“Please,” he urged. “And coax her to accept. I promise to keep you thoroughly entertained. We have a summer festival on the isle, which you will certainly enjoy. Urge Aunt Ruth to plan your trip for that time—in July.”

“I shall try,” Sophie promised.

They were walking wordlessly together when a fresh flutter of snow began to fall softly on their shoulders.

Albert broke the silence. “When you visit Stonehaven, you must allow me to take you walking along the cliffs. You’ll be amazed to discover the richness of the flora there—hundreds of different kinds of flowers and grasses.”

They were making their way around a corner and up to an intersecting path, when they nearly collided with Jonathan.

“Ah, here you are,” he said, smiling cordially at Albert. “Won’t you come inside and have a hot drink, Cousin?”

Albert hesitated, and for a moment Sophie thought he was going to scowl at Jonathan. But then he smiled and said, “That would be very welcome.”

The three of them walked out of the park and up the front steps of Vaile House together. Inside, Leeds accepted Albert’s coat, and they all made their way into the yellow salon, where they gratefully received revivifying potions—Albert and Jonathan hot toddies, Sophie a steaming cup of tea. Finally, after chatting pleasantly on various issues of the day, Albert bid them goodbye and departed.

“He appears to be in good spirits,” Jonathan observed, as they wandered off to the library together.

“Yes,” Sophie agreed. “He wants to be my friend again, and I see no reason why he should not.”

Jonathan frowned slightly but made no reply.

* * * *

During the week that preceded Countess Dangerfield’s ball, Sophie attended the theater with Jonathan four times. One of the performances was an opera that was set in a warm, rosy Italian garden—a comfortable contrast to the raging storm outside. The music was quite beautiful, Sophie decided, but the heroine was enormously fat. When she was obliged to bid her lover
addio
, she carried her poor compatriot to the floor with her, landing with such a crash that the audience was hard put to stifle its laughter. Thereafter, her high notes were a bit quavery, and Jonathan pointed out that she walked with a decided limp. During the final curtain calls, however, she was greeted with such warmth of applause that she appeared to consider herself amply rewarded for her stoicism

On the whole Jonathan gave every indication of enjoying these entertainments, though he appeared to be less affected by the dramatic moments than Sophie was. More than once she caught him covering a smile when his heart strings should have been thrumming. And there were times when she felt that he laughed a bit longer than was necessary. But all in all, it was apparent that he relished their excursions together. She often caught him smiling at her when he thought she was looking elsewhere, and it occurred to her that she had never shared such delightful moments with Albert de Lisle.

“It pleases me to see you happy,” he would tell her. “I feel that I am really home again.”

One evening, to Sophie’s delight, Lady Biskup agreed to attend the theater with her, the weather being a bit milder, though the snow still drifted down relentlessly. When they were ready to depart from Vaile House, however, Sophie discovered, to her surprise, that Jonathan was occupied elsewhere for the evening and Nicky had been enlisted to escort them.

“Had to agree to this outing to get the mater off m’ back,” he told the two ladies. “Dashed shrew, is what she is. Told her umpteen times I’ve no intention of denying Ellen—love the little widgeon and mean to offer for her when my next quarter’s funds come due and I can buy her a proper gift.”

“I’m delighted to hear it,” Lady Biskup said. “Charming girl.”

“Oh, yes,” Sophie agreed. “But shouldn’t you be escorting her somewhere tonight instead of wasting your time with us?”

“No, no,” Nicky said, waving a hand. “Won’t be a waste. You ain’t such a feather-headed little peagoose as you appear. And James Brooks tells me this is a cracking good play.”

He had no sooner deposited them comfortably in their box, however, and the curtain had risen, than he proceeded to fall asleep, dozing fitfully throughout the entire performance. Sophie only roused him from time to time when he began to make snorting and snuffling noises.

It was during the first interval, while she was wishing that Jonathan were present to chat with her—about Vaile Priory and things of genuine value instead of boxing and wagering and the subjects that appeared to occupy Nicky’s every waking hour—that she discovered Albert in one of the boxes across from them. He was in the company of a stiffly starched, middle-aged couple and a mouse-like girl. Though the girl kept curling and undulating around him in what Sophie considered a manner that was guaranteed to offend any young man, Albert gave the appearance of cherishing every moment with her. When he discovered his family in the opposite box, he smiled and bowed, but he made no attempt to seek them out and speak to them.

“That is Julia Woodson, poor creature,” Lady Biskup explained. “I know her parents only slightly, but I understand that they are thoroughly tiresome.”

“Dashed rich, though,” Nicky observed.

“The perfect wife for our Albert,” Lady Biskup said.

“Good God, yes!” Nicky agreed.

When the final curtain had been rung down and Nicky had returned them to Vaile House, Sophie hurried to Jonathan’s room and rapped on the door. There was no answer. She retired to the library and summoned his batman, Tom.

“No, miss, he has not returned home as yet,” the batman told her.

Sophie put a hand to her breast. “But it’s so terribly late! Surely some evil has befallen him.”

“No, miss,” Tom assured her. “You’ll forgive me for saying so, but it’s early for men to be about with their friends. Card games go on till the small hours of the morning.”

Sophie flushed slightly. “Then I’ll not be concerned about his well-being.”

He gave her a gentle smile. “He survived the Peninsula War, miss. We’ve no reason to believe that London is more perilous than that.”

With a nod of her head she dismissed him and made her way back to her bedroom, where Anna was awaiting her. After shedding her evening clothes and sipping a cup of warm milk, she snuggled down under the covers to enjoy a soothing sleep. She had barely laid her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, however, when she heard a strange hubbub below her. There were running footsteps and scraping sounds and a babble of muffled voices. She sat up with a start.

Heavy feet were hurrying about and she could hear Tom’s voice raised in command. Bounding out of bed, she dashed to the door, opened it and put her head out to listen.

“Stand back, fellows!” Tom ordered. “Here now, sir, settle easy. That’s it. Leeds will have some brandy for you and you’ll soon feel better. Let us carry you to your room.”

“No,” Jonathan protested. “I’ll be all right in a moment.”

“That’s quite a cut on your head,” said a voice that Sophie recognized as Fairmont’s.

“Indeed,” Tom agreed.

“You saved my life, Roger,” Jonathan said.

Sophie sped to the head of the stairs and looked down. She could see Tom and Lord Fairmont, but not Jonathan. Moving across the landing, she finally saw him slumped in a chair. His head, which was leaning back against the wall, was smeared with red. The backs of both his hands were also smeared, and the front of his shirt was heavily stained.

With a gasp she bounded down the staircase. “Jonathan!” she cried. “Oh, Jonathan!”

Tom stepped out to intercept her. “Please, miss,” he protested. “You’d best not look. It appears much worse than it is.”

But Sophie shoved past him and threw herself into Jonathan’s arms. He half rose to receive her. As her arms went around him, he returned her embrace and leaned his bloody cheek against hers.

“How nice,” he purred. “It’s worth the pain, to be comforted by my loving family.”

She drew away and looked anxiously into his face. “You’re dreadfully hurt! We must send for a surgeon.”

“No,” he said. “Tom’s right, it’s not so bad as it seems. A head wound bleeds like the devil. I’ll have a nasty headache tomorrow, no doubt, but I probably won’t even have any scars.”

She shuddered. “You look dreadful! What happened to you?”

“I was set upon by footpads. I gave them my purse. Why shouldn’t I? I’ve no need to horde every penny I possess. But they were not content, and I quickly realized it wasn’t money they were after. They attacked me, and I wonder if they’d have managed to kill me.” He frowned for a moment and then shrugged. “At any rate Roger appeared out of the fog and the snow flurries, and together we drove them off.”

“How terrible!” Sophie said. “Lord Reginald often said that London was not a fit place to live in. Could he have meant that one’s life is in constant peril?”

“It’s possible,” Jonathan said. “At any rate, in the future, we shall be sure to have a few stout men in our company whenever we venture out.”

“There,” Anna said, fastening the last hook and turning Sophie around in front of her. “Coo! You’re beautiful, Miss Sophie, if I say so m’self.”

Sophie stepped over to the pier glass and, holding her gloved arms away from her sides, turned slowly. With her hair arranged
á la grecque
and a cluster of silver butterflies fastened over her left ear to echo the flight of silver wings that swept up her skirt and bodice, she did not recognize herself for a moment. Then she inhaled deeply.

“My goodness, Anna,” she agreed. “I look quite well.”

“Indeed, miss,” her maid agreed. “Princess Charlotte ain’t so beautiful.”

Sophie smiled. Wrapping her cloak carefully around herself to prevent crushing her butterflies, she hurried downstairs to show her new gown to Jonathan. He was already seated in the yellow salon, one long leg crossed over the other. Sophie stopped in the doorway to smile at him, and he rose to his feet. She opened her cape.

“Is it not beautiful, Jonathan?” she said. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”

He shook his head slowly.

Sophie held out her arms to him and started across the floor. She intended to embrace him, but before she could reach him, he retreated behind a sofa.

“Don’t,” he warned her.

She stopped and tilted her head. “Why not? Is this not the most beautiful dress you’ve ever seen?”

He nodded. “I’ll crush you,” he said, then added, “I’ll crush your butterflies.”

“Oh,” she said, turning away. “That’s true. It would be dreadful to arrive at Countess Dangerfield’s with all my butterflies flattened.”

Pulling off her cloak and dumping it unceremoniously onto a chair, she held out her skirt with one hand, pretended to place her other hand on a partner’s shoulder, and began to waltz by herself.

“Jonathan?” she said. “Will you waltz with me for a moment? May I practice with you?”

“No,” he said.

She stopped and turned to him in surprise. He was still standing behind the sofa, watching her steadily.

“I must speak to you,” he said, and there was a smoky note in his voice that sent a shiver racing down her spine. “I had intended to wait, but I find it’s impossible. I love you, Sophie.”

She nodded. “But of course I love you, too.”

He shook his head impatiently. “I don’t mean,
of course I love you
. I mean that I’m
in love
with you and want to marry you.”

To her surprise, she felt a rush of elation. But she had barely opened her mouth to accept him, when she realized that Lady Biskup was standing in the doorway.