Читать книгу The Temporary Betrothal - Lily George - Страница 13

Chapter Five

Thank goodness she had gotten an advance on her salary. Sophie sat, cradling her teacup in her hands, observing the hustle and bustle as shoppers filed in and out of Molland’s. She needed a fortifying meal and a few moments’ peace after her chaotic morning. Even though she feigned courage for the lieutenant, her emotions were deeply shaken. She picked up her watercress sandwich with shaking hands and savored one delicious bite.

Her entire family had been cast into poverty when Papa died. But Sophie never realized how very dreadful poverty could be. Of course, it meant making over Mama’s old court dresses rather than enjoying new frocks. And it meant eating potatoes every day rather than having chicken for dinner. And yet, even though they left their ancestral home in disgrace and eked out a meager existence in a cottage, the idea of desperation had never crossed her mind. Why, she had even rejected Captain John Brookes because she no longer loved him after the war.

Love! What nonsense.

Sophie dropped her sandwich and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. What a selfish ninny she had been. The only thing that separated her from the widows she met this morning—women who were facing such straitened circumstances that prostitution suddenly seemed a viable option—was the fact that her industrious sister had kept her from feeling desperate. True, they had discussed taking on jobs in the village. But really, it was Harriet’s own demeanor—her insistence on writing a book, her persistence in having it published—that had kept the wolf from the Handley cottage door. And because of her sister’s cheerful toiling, she never felt as desperate or as poor as the women she met today.

She tried another bite of her sandwich, but really, it tasted like ashes in her mouth.

The only thing to do is resolve never to be a burden on one’s family again. After all, she had gainful employment for the foreseeable future. She would simply have to work hard, save up money and open a dress shop of her own one day. She would never have to worry about Harriet or poverty again.

“Penny for your thoughts?” a cheerful voice interrupted. “Sophie? Are you all right?”

Sophie gave a shake of her head, ridding herself of her reverie. “Lucy.” She patted the table and beckoned her friend to sit down. “Thank goodness you are here.”

“Did you have a bad morning? How did your visit to the veterans go?” Lucy sat across from her and placed her reticule on the table. “Tea and sandwiches, if you please,” she told the waitress with a smile.

“Oh, the meeting went well.” Sophie took a sip of her tea. “But really, Lucy. I had no idea how very badly off some of the women are.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Some of them even consider...selling themselves.”

Lucy nodded. “Yes, I know. I can’t say I blame them. After all, a woman must do what she can to survive.”

Her response was like a slap in the face. Sophie sat back in her chair, her eyes wide. “Surely you don’t condone it.”

“No, I wouldn’t say I condone it.” Lucy accepted her tea from the waitress and nodded her thanks. “I would just say that I can understand it. You see, Sophie, I am an orphan. I grew up in an orphanage. Fortunately for me, I have brains and was able to develop them even in that environment. I was able to become a governess. Some of my friends were not so fortunate.”

Really, this was astonishing. It was like turning over a pretty, smooth rock in a field and seeing the worms squirming underneath. “But really, Lucy. My family lost everything and I never felt that kind of desperation. Maybe my sister hid it from me. I even turned down two marriage proposals.”

Lucy spluttered and choked on her tea. “Beg pardon?” she coughed, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief. The waitress returned with a small china plate of sandwiches.

Sophie waited until the waitress left before picking up the thread of conversation.

“Yes, it’s true. I turned down Captain John Brookes and another redcoat—James Marable.” It was embarrassing to admit it now. Especially as Lucy sat staring at her, looking at her as though she had just sprouted horns on the top of her head.

“Why?” Lucy took a careful sip of her tea, continuing to eye Sophie over the rim of her cup.

“Because I did not love them.” Why did it feel like an admission of guilt? After all, Harriet had promised her long ago that she did not have to marry anyone she did not love. Even after Mama died and Sophie was riddled with guilt and sorrow, Harriet promised her she had made the right choice.

Lucy set down her cup with a clink. “Well, then, I must say yes. It sounds to me that your sister did protect you. I envy you your freedom, Sophie. Most young women in dire poverty would marry anyone without delay. No picking and choosing allowed.”

“And that’s why I am seeking my own fortune.” Sophie lifted her chin in the air. It wasn’t as if she was lolling about in bed all day, eating bonbons. She worked very hard for Lord Bradbury and his daughters. And she was building a future for herself until she could strike out on her own and become a modiste with a proper shop.

“And so you are.” Lucy reached out and clasped Sophie’s hand warmly. “But listen, Sophie. Not everyone’s experience is akin to yours. We do not all have the same background, breeding or talent to make something of ourselves. And to be perfectly honest, not all of us are as pretty as you.” She released Sophie’s hand. “You mustn’t judge other women for what they may choose to do to survive.”

“I don’t,” Sophie protested. “I am just stunned, that’s all. In our days of poverty, I never had to consider such a thing. And it both addles me and humbles me to know that others do. I never knew how hard my sister worked as a writer to save my family until this moment.”

A sympathetic light kindled in Lucy’s eyes, easing some of the turmoil in Sophie’s heart. Lucy wasn’t dismayed by her refusal to marry. And for that she was grateful.

Lucy tapped the table with her forefinger for emphasis as she spoke again. “So now that you have this position, what do you wish to do with the rest of your life?”

“I wish for peace and freedom.” Why, she could even feel it—the sensation of being lifted up on wings. Not relying on anyone. Making her own way in the world. “I should like to have my own dress shop someday. When Amelia and Louisa no longer need my services.”

“And what of marriage? If another proposal came your way, what would you say?” Lucy cocked her head to one side.

“I do not know.” An image of brown eyes in a stern face flashed before her mind’s eye. Charlie Cantrill. If Charlie asked her, what would she say? And why was she thinking of him, anyway? Theirs was a mere business relationship. “It would depend upon the gentleman, and my own feelings in the matter.”

“Ah, c’est bon.” Lucy stirred her teacup meditatively. She fell silent, brooding over the steaming brew.

Sophie regarded her carefully. Lucy seemed so lively, so independent, and yet she had no family. Other than her charges and the other servants, she had no one to speak to, to care for. Her existence must be so lonely. She needed to find others to share her life with. Perhaps reading to Ensign Rowland would allow her to branch out, and forge connections with others.

“Lucy, you’re so clever.” Best to start with flattery. Everyone loved a nice compliment. “There’s someone who needs your help. Lieutenant Cantrill mentioned an ensign who is mute. Would you come to the veterans’ group with me and read to him? The lieutenant thinks it would be a great help to the young man, and I would love to have your company there.”

Lucy looked up, her blue eyes wide with astonishment. “Really? You think it would be a help?”

Sophie offered her most appealing smile. Her plan was already starting to work. Maybe Lucy could find her happily ever after, even if Sophie’s seemed remote. “Dear Lucy, I think it would be a tremendous help. For everyone.”

* * *

Charlie accepted the teacup from Aunt Katherine’s extended hand. “Thank you, Auntie.” He couldn’t help but call her Aunt. Everyone did. In reality, she was John Brookes’s aunt—but in practice, she was aunt to them all.

“And so, Charlie,” she asked, amusement evident in her tone, “how did Sophie fare on her first day?”

He settled back in his chair, breathing deeply of the scents of oolong and leather. Aunt Katherine’s home always made him feel at peace. She managed to live a life of simple luxury, one that made him comfortable without causing guilt. After all, so many people had so little.

“She did quite well, Aunt Katherine. I believe that she will be a tremendous help to my cause. Some of the women took to her immediately—she got their confidence in mere moments, whereas I had been working for weeks.”

Aunt Katherine nodded, her wrinkled features softening into a smile. “Good, I am glad to hear it. You know, I was none too fond of Miss Sophie after she broke her understanding with John. He is my nephew and I feel he is a rare gem. On the other hand, matters worked out right. John and Harriet are together, and a better match you’ll never find.”

He nodded. Everything had worked out for the best, for everyone. “So you are not bitter, Aunt Katherine?”

She laughed, tilting her head back. “Not at all, I assure you. In fact, I am inclined to like Sophie more and more. She is, perhaps, the more spoiled of the two lasses, but she is showing a willingness to work on her own and gain independence that is most pleasing.”

Charlie smiled. It was easy to misjudge Sophie. She was so pretty and so vibrant that it was not at all difficult to think of her as a flibbertigibbet, passing over her strength of character. “I think so, too.”

“Do you?” The faded old eyes regarded him sharply, as though Aunt Katherine were studying him through a lorgnette. The close regard caused a wriggle of unease to work up his spine.

“Yes.” Would Auntie stop regarding him in that fashion? He felt like an insect under a spying glass.

“And what of Elizabeth Gaskell? Do you ever hear of your former fiancée at all?”

The sudden shift in conversation threw Charlie off guard. Like a good soldier, he eyed the terrain warily. What did this abrupt change signify? Why was she bringing up Beth, right on the heels of their discussion about Sophie?

“What I know of Beth I read in The Tatler.” His words were clipped and precise. Beth’s downward spiral into licentious behavior was a constant source of amusement for Bath—and embarrassment for her former fiancé. He did not like to talk about it with anyone. Not even Auntie.

“So, then. If she is mentioned in the gossip rags, then she is still living a hedonistic existence.” Aunt Katherine clasped her hands, laden with rings, together over her stomach, peering at him with eyes that had only sharpened with age. “And where does this leave you, Charlie?”

“Forgive me, Auntie, but I don’t understand your meaning.” Honestly, the old woman was as mysterious as the Sphinx. John had warned him so, many times in the past. And yet, since she was meddling in others’ affairs, Charlie found it amusing. Now, faced with it himself, it didn’t seem as funny.

“Tut, tut. There’s no need to get testy with an old woman. I only mean to say it isn’t right for a young man to live alone without thinking about a wife and family. While your work with the veterans is nothing short of admirable, what are you doing to better your own life, my son?”

“You sound like my mother. Always lecturing me to give up my work and settle down with a wife.” And yet, what was so winning about his life? Dinner alone. Walks to the Pump Room. Reading before his cozy fire. It was usually pleasant, but took on a lonely tinge now that he thought about it. “Sometimes I prefer solitude. When Brookes is in town, I have a very active social life.”

Aunt Katherine clapped her hands, her rings tinkling merrily. “Ah, but John is now married, and I am sure he and Harriet will have a family soon. He won’t have as much time for trips to Bath and army reunions. You must create a life for yourself that is rich and full, young Charlie. While austerity has its benefits, I worry that you are missing out on the very vibrancy of life.”

Vibrancy. Warmth. Beauty. An image of blue eyes and hair the color of sunlight passed through his mind. A lively young lady, someone to share his life with. He blinked rapidly, clearing the alluring vision away. “I don’t know, Aunt Katherine. Sometimes I think I was meant to be alone. Perhaps that is why God spared me. To live a life of quiet austerity helping others. It’s not a bad existence, you know.”

Aunt Katherine pursed her lips and shook her head. An unusual quiet descended on the library, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the grate. At length, Aunt Katherine spoke softly. “Not all women are like Elizabeth Gaskell. Not even pretty ones.”

“I am afraid all young ladies are more like her than we care to admit.” The thread of bitterness running through his tone was surprising, even to his own ears. “Especially...” His face began to burn, a flush he could not attribute to the heat from the fire. “Especially pretty and vivacious women.”

“Charlie.” Aunt Katherine’s voice was quiet, the kind of tone she might reserve for a child who had fallen and skinned his knee. “Surely you don’t harbor bitterness and prejudice in your heart.” She straightened up and offered him a kind smile. She was like a mother in some ways, and it made him blink back sudden tears. He was a soldier, after all. No good to cry. “‘Another man dies in bitterness of soul, never having enjoyed anything good,’” she quoted. “Don’t allow what Beth did to rob you of happiness.”

It took a few moments for Charlie to gain composure. He simply stared out the library window, avoiding Aunt Katherine’s gaze while he settled his thoughts. What she said was true. He must get rid of all bitterness in his heart. And yet, it was hard to let go of that anger. It had driven him and fueled his existence for so long, he didn’t know how to relinquish it. It had been hidden under a mask of good cheer, at least where the Brookes family was concerned. But Aunt Katherine, with her uncanny powers of perception, had discovered the truth.

When he was of a more reasonable frame of mind, he rose. It was embarrassing to be so emotional. “Aunt Katherine, I must be going. But I do want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for your help. I appreciate all you are trying to do for me.”

She extended her hand, jewels winking in the firelight. “Tut, tut, my dear boy. I shall meddle with you tirelessly now that John is happily wed.” She gave him a wheedling smile. “Your mother may be right, after all. And remember that the Handley girls are made of stronger stuff than I think we often give them credit for.”

Her words echoed in Charlie’s mind as he walked back to his flat. Why had she added that last bit? Could it be that Sophie Handley was made of stronger stuff than he imagined? Behind that pretty face, was she something more? He let himself into the chilly flat. His housekeeper had the day off, and he hated coming home when she hadn’t been working all day. His home seemed dour and cheerless without at least a fire burning in the grate and the bustle of work in the kitchen.

He kindled the fire himself and extended his hand to the blaze. The warmth ran from the tips of his fingers to the pit of his heart. Perhaps he had allowed bitterness to settle and become part of him for too long. Perhaps it was time for spring—in more ways than one.