The Temporary Betrothal (26 page)

“Very true, John.” Harriet took his hand. “I believe Rose has
already set out our repast in the dining room and even included an extra place
for Charlie. Shall we go?”

“Indeed.” Sophie took Charlie’s hand, and smiled up at him.
“‘Whither thou goest, I will go,’” she whispered.

“‘Thy people shall be my people,’” Charlie murmured, turning
that same crooked grin on her that always reduced her knees to jelly. She was
the luckiest woman in the world. She had her beloved, her family and a purpose
beyond her own whims and desires.

Life was complete. She could ask for nothing more.

Chapter Twenty-Six

November, 1818
St. Mary’s church, Crich, Derbyshire

“N
ervous?” Brookes joked, coming to stand
by Charlie at the altar.

“A bit, yes.” There was no use hiding his feelings from anyone.
Surely every person crowding the tiny country chapel this morning could see his
shaking hand, his profusely sweating forehead. He patted it once more with his
handkerchief and tucked the scrap of linen back into his pocket.

“Don’t worry.” Brookes slapped him heartily on the shoulder.
“Just say ‘I will’ to everything the reverend asks you, and you will make out
just fine.”

Charlie nodded. He cast a glance around the pews. Aunt
Katherine sat in the front row, decked out in violet, plying herself with a silk
fan even though it threatened to snow outside. Lord Bradbury and his two
daughters sat behind them, the girls flaunting two gowns that Sophie had made
for them during her last few weeks in Bath. Veterans and widows alike filled two
rows within the chapel, their transportation from Bath to Derbyshire arranged by
his lordship, who, it must be admitted, had become quite a patron of their
organization.

Brookes grinned. “Try not to look so much like a green lad
gawking about,” he admonished. “In no time at all, you’ll be wed and wondering
how on earth you deserve such a glorious creature. I know. I felt the same way
when I married her sister. Speaking of whom, I must check on my wife. I don’t
want her on her feet all day when she’s in such a state.”

Brookes disappeared up the aisle just as Mother and Robert
entered the chapel. Mother bustled up to him, the feathers on her cap fluttering
as she scurried. “Darling, I have just seen Sophie,” she breathed, catching his
arm. “She looks beautiful. Simply radiant.”

“Where is she?” Charlie’s heart beat a nervous tattoo against
his rib cage. Surely the ceremony would be starting soon. He didn’t exactly
relish being on display like this, even if it was his own friends and family
eyeing him expectantly.

“She’s putting the finishing touches on her appearance over at
Reverend Kirk’s house. I must say, it’s very odd for you to have two men of the
cloth performing your ceremony. Wouldn’t one be ample?” Mother quirked her
eyebrow and looked at Robert. “Don’t you agree, my boy?”

“I think it’s a grand gesture. Reverend Kirk has meant a lot to
Sophie’s family, and Reverend Stephens brought the two of them together,” Robert
replied with a shrug.

“Precisely.” Charlie smiled at his brother.

The two reverends entered the chapel at that moment, talking
together cordially as they walked up the aisle. Mother gave his cheek a quick
peck, then she and Robert both took their seats in the pews.

The ceremony must be about to start. For there was Brookes,
escorting a considerably rounder Harriet to their pew, and an expectant hush
fell over the assembled crowd. Lucy Williams, clad in a dark rose gown that
Sophie had stitched, paused at the top of the aisle, smiling broadly. Yes, it
was beginning.

His every nerve was trained on the lovely creature in white who
walked slowly up the aisle. Her very presence drew all the air out of the
chapel. He fought to catch his breath as she turned toward him and smiled. How
unreal, how very unbelievable, that she was coming to stand by him, to pledge
her troth, her undying love, for the rest of their days.

He was the luckiest man alive.

Reverend Kirk spoke first, asking Sophie in his kind but gruff
old voice if she would honor and love Charlie for the rest of his days. Her
voice, clear as a bell, rang out every response. “I will.”

Then Reverend Stephens took over, asking Charlie the same
questions. His mind echoed Brookes’s advice, and he merely parroted “I will,”
whenever the reverend paused. He could barely understand anything that was being
said, as he contemplated his lovely bride with growing wonderment.

And then the ceremony ended and the entire company spilled
across the frozen church lawn, streaming into Reverend Kirk’s manse, which had
been prepared especially for the assembled company to partake in a hearty,
old-fashioned wedding breakfast. Charlie caught his bride’s hand and led her
into the vicarage, still in awe that he was married. To Sophie Handley. No, not
Sophie Handley any longer. She was Sophie Cantrill.

“Are you all right?” she whispered, clutching his hand more
tightly. “You look rather pale.”

“I’m fine.” He could not even begin to articulate how he was
feeling, especially not with so many people about. He would tell her everything
tonight, when they would be finally and blessedly alone.

She smiled, but her eyes held a worried and puzzled glint. He
patted her back in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, and led her toward the
breakfast room.

Harriet rounded the corner, nearly colliding with them both.
“Sophie! Charlie, may I borrow my sister for a moment?”

“Of course.” He bowed and released his hold on her back.

“Harriet, whatever is the matter? We are supposed to start the
wedding breakfast.”

“I know, but I have a surprise for you.” Harriet grabbed
Sophie’s hand and tugged her down the hallway. “We will return shortly,
Charlie.”

Whatever was Harriet about? The crowd was milling around,
waiting patiently for breakfast. The enticing scents of bacon and fried potatoes
wafted through the little house. His stomach gurgled. He had been too nervous to
even eat the roll Stoames had brought him while he was dressing that morning.
Now that the ceremony was over and his nervousness ebbed, hunger gnawed at his
insides like a hungry wolf. If only they would hurry up.

“Scone, Lieutenant?” Reverend Stephens passed him a packet
wrapped in a handkerchief, which gave forth the mouthwatering scents of vanilla
and lemon peel.

“Dare I eat while the assembled company waits?” he asked with a
laugh.

The reverend smiled. “In my experience, the bride and groom
have precious little time to partake of wedding breakfasts, so occupied are they
with good wishes and congratulations,” he replied. He beckoned Charlie to an
abandoned corner of the room. “Eat quickly. It will help you make it through the
morning.”

Charlie unwrapped the scone with a grateful sigh. “This must be
Rose’s cooking. Heavenly.”

The reverend nodded. “I poached one from the breakfast table
this morning, after I conferred with Reverend Kirk.” He gave a conspiratorial
wink. “Now that you are receiving a little sustenance to make it through the
day, how do you feel?”

“Better. Awestruck. Unworthy. But better.” Charlie polished off
the last of the scone, and brushed the crumbs off his fingertips.

Reverend Stephens gave him a crooked grin. “Always with the
eternal tally, eh, Lieutenant? Isn’t that what got you in trouble the first time
around? Always checking in to see who was right, who was wrong and who was
deserving of what they received? Surely you learned something from the task I
gave you. You forgave everyone else. Now you must forgive yourself.”

“Forgive myself for what?” The reverend’s words made no
sense.

“For being human.” The reverend turned and left, leaving
Charlie alone in the corner.

The wedding guests milled around, talking, laughing and
embracing one another. Aunt Katherine chatted with Stoames and Rose, who stood
side by side. Ensign Rowland listened, his eyes wide with fascination, as Lucy
talked to him, her lips moving a mile a minute. Lord Bradbury held the hands of
his two daughters and twirled them around, smiling at Mother and Robert. They
were all here to celebrate his union with Sophie. His heart surged with
gratitude, and he said a silent prayer of thanks for them—flawed, exasperating
and wonderful as they were—who all occupied a space in his life and a place in
his heart.

* * *

Sophie sat in the same spare bedroom she had dressed in
earlier that morning, and reread the letter Harriet handed to her. “I don’t
understand this at all. None of it makes sense.”

“I don’t understand it, either,” Harriet replied, her eyebrows
drawn together. “I knew nothing of it until Reverend Kirk gave me the letter
this morning.”

“Why did he send the letter to Reverend Kirk? Why not send it
directly to you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he was unsure of where to send it. Or
perhaps he wanted the reverend to act on his behalf, in case we were unhappy
with the contents of the letter for any reason.” Harriet shrugged.

Sophie reread the letter aloud.

“‘Dear Misses Harriet and Sophie,

“A misunderstanding has long existed between our families, and
I have decided that it is time to heal the breach. My family wishes to extend
our deepest sympathy to you for your mother’s recent passing, and to
congratulate Miss Harriet on her marriage to Captain John Brookes. We also
understand that Miss Sophie will also soon be wed to Lieutenant Charles
Cantrill, and we wish to tender our congratulations for that blessed event, as
well...’”

“How did they know I was going to be married?” Sophie asked,
glancing up at Harriet from the sheet of foolscap.

“Gossip, perhaps? I really have no idea. Keep reading. I still
cannot fathom it myself.” Harriet plucked at the fringe of the coverlet.

“Put your feet up on the bed, or they’ll start to swell,”
Sophie admonished. Then she turned her attention back to the letter.

“‘As the head of the Handley clan, I wish to state emphatically
that we do not have any objection to your family connections, and would welcome
you to our home at any time, should you choose to return to Liverpool. As a sign
of our good faith, I am reinstating the living your father would have left to
you, had his fortunes not collapsed. The sum of three thousand pounds per annum
shall be settled on you each.

“I am, most affectionately, your uncle

“David Handley.’”

“So Papa’s brother magically decides to gift us with a living
after years of penury and neglect? Why so?” Harriet nibbled her thumbnail. “I am
not sure we should accept.”

“Stop biting your nails,” Sophie admonished. “Of course we will
accept. And we will forgive them, too. Charlie has taught me the value of
forgiveness. I shall never harbor bitterness in my heart again.” She folded up
the foolscap and tossed it aside. “I have no need of his money, so I shall gift
it all to the Veterans’ Fund.”

“I shall, too.” Harriet struggled to get off the bed. Sophie
laughed and walked around to her sister’s side, giving her hands a mighty
pull.

“I suppose we should return to the breakfast. Your guests will
be getting hungry, and poor Charlie probably thinks I have kidnapped you
forevermore,” Harriet puffed, tugging her dress down over her broad middle.

Sophie nodded, and followed her sister out the bedroom door.
She paused in her descent down the staircase, staring at Charlie, who was
talking earnestly with Brookes and Stoames.

Charlie had done it. She was sure he had done it. She knew not
how, but he was the reason that her uncle was suddenly so willing to let bygones
be bygones.

Her beloved must have felt her eyes on him, for he turned, a
grin lighting his thin face. She rushed down the staircase and flung herself
into his embrace. “Thank you.” She sighed, closing her ears to the laughter of
the assembled company.

“For what?” He held her tightly—so tightly she could scarcely
draw breath.

“For being wonderful.” She would spend the rest of her life
trying to keep that same crooked, boyish grin on her beloved’s face.

* * *

Smoke curled lazily from the chimney of Tansley Cottage
as Charlie and Sophie’s carriage wound its way down the rocky path. “Look, Rose
kept the fire going all day, even when we were at Crich. How marvelous she is.”
Sophie brushed a minuscule speck of dust from her white woolen frock. It was one
of her finest creations, and she had no wish for it to be marred by dirt before
the day was even over.

“What a pretty little cottage,” Charlie observed. “Just the
right size for us two.”

“Until our family grows,” Sophie added, her face heating to her
hairline.

Charlie reddened, too, and his eyes flashed with a dangerous
light. “Of course. But it will do quite nicely until we find our permanent home.
Isn’t this a lovely place to live, all tucked up against the moor like this? It
quite puts my flat in Bath to shame.”

“Yes, in some ways. But you must understand, back then we had
so very little. And Mama was quite ill. I didn’t realize it at the time, but
Hattie was protecting me from a great deal of bald truths about our poverty.”
She looked over at him, batting her eyelashes like a practiced coquette. “I know
you won’t believe this, but I was quite ignorant of anything beyond my own small
world back then.”

“Perish the thought,” he replied gallantly, kissing her
hand.

“No, it’s true.” She sidled closer to him. “And because I am
now realizing all she has done for me, I am making sure that I cultivate
gratitude for every kindness that has been shown to me. I know, for example,
that you are likely the reason the Handley clan has suddenly changed their
long-held opinion of my family. Why, Hattie showed me a letter this morning from
Papa’s brother David, who insists that the family harbors no ill will toward
us.”

“Ah, what good news,” her husband replied. “I am glad to hear
it.”

She touched his cheek, her glove catching slightly on his beard
stubble. “He has even settled an allowance on us both, which we are giving to
the Veterans’ Fund.”

“That is too good of the Handley gels,” he rejoined, turning
the palm of her hand toward his lips.

“The Handley gels have you to thank for it, Lieutenant
Cantrill.”

He smiled briefly as the carriage rolled to a halt. “I must
disagree, Mrs. Cantrill. It seems to me that the head of your family merely did
the right thing. At long last.” He opened the carriage door and boosted her to
the ground, swinging her in a slow circle until her toes touched the frozen
earth.