Читать книгу Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 2 - Elizabeth Rolls - Страница 69

The brush had drifted off the edge of the page. Sophie failed to notice for several long minutes, until her listless strokes resulted in a Prussian blue smudge on the edge of her draughting table.

‘Ohh …’ She tossed her brush away in disgust and began to search for the solvent.

A brisk knock sounded at her chamber door and Nell entered, carrying a tray. She set it down. ‘Not again.’ The maid sighed. ‘Beggin’ your pardon, miss, but p’raps you should concentrate on eating something before you try to work again. Else your table is going to look like little Edward has been at it.’

‘Thank you, Nell. You may be right.’ Sophie sat when Nell held out a chair, but she did not eat. She couldn’t eat, she couldn’t work, and she couldn’t pull herself together enough to receive visitors or pay any calls. All she had accomplished since returning to Emily’s London house, in fact, was sitting at her desk, staring out the window, and wondering if Charles was ever going to come to his senses.

She rubbed her temples. It was beginning to look as if he would not. She rubbed her eyes next. She refused to cry; she had done enough of that since leaving Sevenoaks. She refused to doubt herself too. The fact that Charles had not come to her was proof enough that she had been right.

‘Miss?’ Nell was standing before her, looking concerned. It was a nearly constant expression these past days. ‘Will you let me pour you a dish of tea?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Sophie tried to smile. She accepted the cup, but forgot to drink from it. She must begin to make some plans for her future. She had received several flattering offers for design commissions. She could choose one of those. Mateo had reiterated his offer to take her home to Philadelphia. As a cousin only, he had said with a wink. She ought to at least consider it.

The tea had grown cold in her hand when Nell returned to the room a while later. Shaking her head, the maid took the cup from her and set it down. ‘There is a visitor downstairs. For you, miss.’

‘Oh, no. I’m not prepared to receive anyone, Nell. Please, just tell whoever it is that I’m not at home.’

Nell took her hand and pulled her to her feet. She began to tuck in her hair and straighten her gown. ‘Oh, this one you will want to see, miss. Trust me.’

Bemused, Sophie went down. She knew by Nell’s manner that it could not be Charles. Granted, she was not sure if the maid was more likely to be happy, if and when he did appear, or to be ready to knock him about the head with a chamber pot, but she definitely would not have remained so calm.

A strange man sat alone in Emily’s drawing room. He stood as Sophie entered and executed a nervous bow.

‘Miss Westby,’ he said.

‘Sir.’ She made her curtsy. ‘I am afraid you have the advantage of me.’

‘I’m Mills, ma’am. I am editor of a paper, the Augur. Perhaps you will have heard of it?’

‘Indeed I have.’ She raised a brow. Surely this man had not come begging for a story? No, the staff would not let her be so harassed.

‘Ah, good. Well, then you will be aware that I have had some dealings with Lord Dayle?’

Sophie’s breath caught, but she merely said, ‘No. I was not aware.’

‘Oh. Well, I have had dealings with him, and he has asked me to deliver this.’ He passed over a folded issue of his paper.

She glanced at it. The screaming headline took up half of the page.

Lord Dayle’s Political Career at an End

Sophie gasped and looked up to question the man, but he had already gone. She unfolded the thing to read further.

It is rumoured that the much beleaguered Charles Alden, Viscount Dayle, has had his fill of scandalous slander and scurrilous attacks.

A source close to him reveals that he intends to eschew town life, desert his party, and his seat in the Lords. He will retire to his country seat, it is said, where he will raise bog berries and produce goat cheese, with the help of the multitudinous progeny of William the Goat.

Sophie laughed out loud. She snapped open the paper to read more, but found the remaining pages were blank. However, something did drop and land at her feet. She bent over to retrieve it. It was a sprig of lilac, and a sealed note. She broke the seal and spread the paper out.

You told me once that you knew all the pranks that I had played in my nefarious career. Prove it. Come now to the spot where I cavorted with Cyprian mermaids.

Cyprian mermaids? Ah, she knew the story it meant. Charles and the famous courtesans, swimming naked in the Serpentine.

‘Nell!’ she called, striding to the door. ‘Fetch our wraps. We are going to the Park!’

‘I just happened to have them right here,’ Nell said, popping in from the hall and holding out Sophie’s favourite pelisse.

Sophie laughed. ‘You are a wretch, but I love you. Let’s go.’

They set out. The sun hung high and a brisk wind blew threw the city streets again today. Sophie smiled and buried her nose in the fragrant lilac. She didn’t notice the pair of heads peaking from the doorway behind her, watching her leave.

Sophie doubted whether she had ever walked faster in her life. They reached the Park in record time. She hurried toward the Serpentine. As she drew near she could see a lone gentleman standing on the banks of the pond. She left the path, lifted her skirts and began to run. He turned around.

And she skidded to a stop. It was Theo Alden. He was grinning from ear to ear and striking a dramatic pose. She stared, uncomprehending, until two facts simultaneously became clear: he was holding a sprig of lilac, and he was dressed exactly as Madame Dunyazade had drawn him. Sophie dropped her skirts and started to laugh.

‘I am your vision brought to life,’ he crowed. ‘Magnificent, isn’t it? All my friends are ragingly jealous.’ He pointed and Sophie turned to see a crowd of Theo’s dandified friends looking on. She waggled her fingers at them and they all waved back.

‘Here you are,’ Theo said. He handed her the lilac and pulled another thick sheet from his waistcoat. ‘When you are a member of the family,’ he said a little plaintively, ‘will you design something else for me?’

Sophie was too busy breaking the seal to answer. Again there was just a short note.

I knew that one was too easy. Here is your next clue: Brew in the shoe.

She immediately knew what that one referenced: the tavern brawl at the Lady’s Slipper. It had always been one of her favourites. She looked up at Theo with a grin.

‘I’ll design you an entire wardrobe if you will find me a hackney as fast as you can.’

He was off like a shot, running towards the corner gate. In a matter of minutes she and Nell were ensconced in a hired carriage and heading for the Strand. They clasped hands and grinned like fools at each other. But Nell dropped her hand and let out a little scream as there came a repeated thumping from the back of the vehicle, right behind her head. She recovered herself and put her head out of the window and looked back. When she ducked back in, her smile was back in place. She gestured for Sophie to do the same.

Several of Theo’s cronies were hanging on to the platform on the back of the old carriage. Evidently above hitching a ride, Theo himself was right behind them in another hackney, his own head out the window just like hers. He was beseeching his friends not to fall off and beseeching his driver not to lose her coach.

The ride seemed interminable. Sophie pulled her head back in, but was tempted to put it back out and scream her frustration when traffic slowed their progress significantly. The Strand was even more busy than usual, it appeared, and the closer they got to their destination, the slower the going became. Farmer’s wagons, dray carts and private carriages—the street was seething with frustrated traffic. Sophie quickly grew too exasperated to wait, and climbed out to walk. As she drew closer to their destination, the source of the problem became apparent.

A massive, shifting crowd surrounded the tavern they sought. The rough but happy men were singing and spilling into the street, blocking the flow of traffic both ways. She fought her way towards the door of the Lady’s Slipper, but stopped when she saw what awaited her there. Sir Harold Luskison stood there, stationed behind the infamous shoe, passing out rum punch as fast as he could ladle it.

‘Thank Heaven that you are here!’ he cried. ‘The tavern owner is irate and has threatened to have me arrested. Here, now,’ he called to the men surrounding him, ‘clear the way, men. The lady deserves a cup.’

Sophie made her way to him and he poured her a cup. She tasted it; it was deliciously hot and wickedly rich. Sir Harold thankfully handed her his lilac and note. He tossed her a devilish grin as well, stepped away from the steaming cauldron, and bellowed, ‘It’s all yours, gentlemenl’ The crowd roared with appreciation. Sophie didn’t hear it; she was perusing her newest hint.

After you have quenched your thirst, feed your mind. Here’s your clue: I was born a poet, but was the only one to know it.

She paused. This one had her stumped. Frantically she searched her memory, but she could not recall anything in Charles’s past pertaining to poetry. She shared the note with Sir Harold, but he only shook his head. Then Nell asked to see it. She looked it over and then looked up, her eyes bright with pleasure.

‘Happen I know this one! I heard two footmen talking of it in Lady Dayle’s kitchens. Lord Dayle dressed up like Byron and showed up at the Mayfair Ladies Byron Appreciation Society. He even read a poem before he was unmasked.’

Sophie slapped a hand to her head. ‘I cannot believe I missed that one.’

‘I don’t think the Ladies liked the idea of it getting around. Several of them actually swooned before they found him out.’

‘But where, Nell?’ Sophie clutched her maid by the arms. ‘Where did they meet?’

‘At that fancy bookstore. Hatchards.’

Sophie pulled her into a tight embrace. ‘I don’t know what I would do without you, Nell! Quickly! Let’s go!’

They backtracked to the cab and talked the driver into turning it about. The rum punch must have given out, because traffic began to move again. Sir Harold rode with them as well, this time. They lost some of the dandies to the lure of free liquor, but Theo and even some of the men from the crowd were still following behind.

Traffic in Piccadilly was busy as well, and Sophie thought they would never get through. She was near to bouncing on her seat in her excitement, but at last the cab pulled to a stop in front of the bookstore.

A smiling Miss Ashford stood next to the entrance, waving her sealed sheet of vellum. She wore the brightest smile Sophie had ever seen on her and had a tight hold of Mr Huxley’s arm.

‘Oh, Sophie—such news!’ she called. ‘Mr Huxley and I are betrothed!’

Sophie gasped. ‘But how wonderful!’

‘Here,’ Miss Ashford said, handing her the paper. ‘I wish you will be as happy as we are.’ She leaned forward confidingly. ‘We are going to tour the Lake District for our bridal trip.’

‘I have always thought there needed to be a good map made of all those trails in Cumbria,’ said Mr Huxley as he held out his lilac sprig. ‘Tell your uncle that I am sorry things did not work out as he wished.’ He bestowed a satisfied glance upon the beaming Miss Ashford. ‘I think it all came out for the best, just the same.’

Her uncle was not the man foremost in Sophie’s mind. This time the clue was just one sentence.

* * *

The King is blue once more.

Sophie looked up into a group of expectant faces.

‘Westminster!’ she shouted.

They had found him at last. Charles stood at the King’s Entrance of Westminster, addressing another crowd. He had a huge bunch of lilacs in his hand and he was standing next to poor King Alfred. The statue had been moved from its position in the Hall and was indeed blue again, from head to foot.

The cab’s door opened and Sophie descended slowly, staring in amazement. They were all here. Everyone. Lady Dayle and Emily and her family stood near to Charles. Mr Fowler, her publisher, actually dabbed at his eye with his handkerchief. All the girls who had performed at the masquerade were grouped to one side. Mateo stood with his arm around an openly weeping man—it was her Italian stuccatore! She recognised some of the men from her workshop in Blackford Chase, and Mr Darvey stood in the middle of them.

Only Charles was apparently oblivious to her arrival. He had continued with his speech. Sophie blinked back further tears at the sight of him. He was smiling at the crowd and he looked so tall and handsome. The sun glinted off the chestnut in his hair.

‘… and so I do withdraw from the political arena. I have resigned from my committees and given up my appointments.’

Sophie gasped. Her heart melted, but then she stilled. Could he truly be giving up his political career altogether? She hadn’t. She looked wildly about, wondering if anyone else knew what a sacrifice he was making.

‘Oh, no, Charles.’ It was Lady Dayle’s voice protesting.

He laughed. ‘Do not worry, it is a fitting end to a haphazard career, in any case. I am sure the government will sail smoothly on without this sometime rake and fribble.’

‘But Dayle, you cannot have considered us?’ someone called from the side of the crowd. Sophie looked over and saw a gaggle of reporters, pads out, taking notes. ‘Our readers love you. They will be bereft.’

‘Our editors will be even more so,’ another said in a loud, theatrical lament.

‘You’ll have to find someone else to be your whipping boy, my lads.’ Charles grinned. ‘Haunt someone else’s footsteps from here on out, for mine will be traipsing down a different, and far more complacent, path.’ He stepped away from King Alfred and grew more serious.

‘For a long time I have walked in shadow. I have held the darkness and decay of the past too close to my heart.’ He gestured towards Sophie and directed that open, satisfied smile her way. ‘It took a very special lady to pound that truth into my head.’ He held out his arms to her and the crowd parted to make way.

Still in a daze, she advanced, spellbound by the lightness of Charles’s voice and the brightness of his clear gaze.

‘I’ve been lost,’ he said simply. ‘Never knowing just who I was, or what I needed. Now I do not claim to be completely redeemed,’ he said with a rakish glance at the crowd, ‘for I am afraid that is a task which will take the right woman years to accomplish.’ He grinned as the crowd laughed along with him. ‘But the process has begun. I am found, because one woman cared enough to search. We did not make it easy on each other, I assure you, but at the last I stand before you, all of our friends and family, not as Viscount Dayle, not even as Mr Charles Alden. I stand here, just a man, desperately in love with a woman.’

The crowd roared their approval and Charles beckoned to Sophie once more.

‘I give you all the incredible woman who showed me how to find the sun again, how to hold on to the memories of the past, and let go of the pain, how to appreciate how blessed I am in the loved ones I still have. She has shown me that true generosity of spirit does exist in this world. She has demonstrated courage and fortitude and somehow, most miraculously, she has breached the barriers I had surrounded myself with and found something inside worthy of her love.’

He stepped into the crowd and walked toward her. They met in the middle. Sophie gazed at him in wonder. He handed her the bouquet, then, heedless of the many staring faces, he took her in his arms and kissed her long and hard.

The crowd cheered. He drew back and said to her alone, ‘Some of those shadows will always be with me, I’m afraid. But I can see past them now, and it is clear that you are my future.’ He touched her hair, ran a finger along the curve of her cheek. ‘You will marry me, will you not?’

Sophie couldn’t speak, couldn’t believe it was true. She felt a sharp elbow in her back as Nell nudged her from behind, so she just nodded and kept nodding, for once in her life struck silent by happiness.

Charles did not appear to mind. He grabbed her up, whirled her around and claimed her mouth once more in a slow, most thorough kiss.

‘She said yes!’ someone nearby shouted, and a great roar rose up from the crowd. Laughing, the pair broke apart. Something soft landed on Sophie’s nose and she looked up to see that everyone in the crowd had held a lilac and now they were tossing them in the air in celebration, surrounding them all in a soft, fragrant rain.

‘A moment! Hold a moment!’ The shouts, weak as they were, began to penetrate the noise of the crowd and to interfere with Charles’s exultation. He tore his gaze from Sophie’s shining face and glanced back towards the arching entrance way.

Cranbourne stood there, weak but upright, supported by a shorter man. Mr Wren, Charles presumed.

‘I said, hold a moment,’ Cranbourne said testily. Slowly the happy tumult abated and all eyes turned toward the man.

‘I am the girl’s guardian. She should seek my consent before she seeks to wed,’ he said in a voice too frail to carry far. It carried far enough to rouse everyone’s wrath, however. Hisses and boos met his statement and Charles saw his mother step towards the old man, her face as angry as he’d ever seen it.

‘Why, you lowly little muckworm—’ she began.

‘A chance,’ he wheezed. ‘Just give me a chance to speak.’ He waited until silence reigned once more. ‘I do give my consent for Sophie to wed, but—’ Everyone held their breaths. Charles struggled to hold on to his temper.

‘I cannot condone Lord Dayle’s retirement from service to the government. He is a good man. He has done nothing for which he need be ashamed.’ Another cheer greeted this pronouncement. Charles just snorted. Sophie, however, was watching her uncle, and Charles knew what was about to happen when she tightened her grip on him.

‘Lord Dayle has been under attack in the past months. He has been much maligned. Maliciously. He has been accused of many faults. Falsely. I know this to be true, because I am the one who perpetrated it.’

Charles looked to the left. The whole group of reporters was grinning and scribbling away as fast as their fingers would fly.

‘It is I who am retiring from public life,’ Cranbourne said.’ I hereby resign my positions, and although my word means nothing, now, I urge you to join me in my attempt to change Lord Dayle’s mind.’

‘What do you say, Dayle?’ It was Sir Harold’s voice coming from the back of the mob. ‘The Tories stand in need of good men. Will you stay?’

Charles looked into Sophie’s questioning gaze. ‘I don’t know,’ he said to her. ‘I was looking forward to finding new ways to make a difference.’ He looked up and around at the grand buildings surrounding them. ‘This was Phillip’s path. Perhaps it will turn out to be mine as well. I just do not know.’ He squeezed her hands. ‘If I don’t know what I want to do with myself now, there is one thing I do know for certain: that I want you beside me. For ever.’

Her dark eyes sparkled. ‘You are free now. Free to follow whatever path you wish. There is only one absolute necessity in your future.’

He grinned. ‘What is that, my love?’

‘You must kiss me again. Now.’

So he did.