by Erica Vetsch
“I haven’t time to take a holiday with you to the shore. Things are too busy here at the estate.” Marcus leaned back but kept hold of Charlotte’s hand. “And we’ve got Charlotte’s health to consider.” He glanced at his wife’s slightly rounded middle, where their firstborn grew. “In a few months she’ll be nearing her confinement. She can’t travel then, and I can’t be away. I’m sorry, Sophie, but it’s impossible. Maybe next summer.”
“It might surprise you, Marcus, but I never considered you might want to accompany us.” Sophie kept her voice light, but desperation took hold. If her brother closed the door on the idea, it might very well stay closed. “Mamie is free to come and go as she likes, and I do believe I have earned the same privilege. I am twenty years old and of independent means. Anyway, while I love you dearly, having you on the journey would defeat the purpose of getting away from family. Your place is here at Haverly with Charlotte.”
He studied her, his face somber. Her heart beat against her ribs, and she realized just how much and how quickly she’d set her hopes on the idea of a trip to the sea. As the head of the family, it would be optimal to have Marcus’s approval and backing.
Mamie pushed her plate back. “I didn’t mean to start a row. It was just an idea I had.” Regret and longing lengthened her face, and she blinked rapidly. Marcus looked abashed at having made the older woman cry, and he sought Sophie’s and Charlotte’s pardon with his eyes.
“And a jolly good idea it is.” Sophie wasn’t ready to acquiesce, and she needed Mamie’s support. “We’re only a few days’ journey from Devonshire. We’ll have the time of our lives. Seeing the countryside, meeting new people. It’s the perfect prescription. And if we get into difficulties—though we won’t—Marcus could be at our side quickly.”
“You cannot go unaccompanied. The risk of highwaymen, foul weather, lack of accommodations …” Marcus shook his head. “No, dear Sophie, it’s unthinkable. Even if I was inclined to let you go, Mother would have several conniptions at the very idea of you traipsing across the landscape unchaperoned. I know you’ve always been given to flights of fancy and thirsted for adventure, but this is too much.”
The flicker of excitement died, doused under Marcus’s cold reasoning.
“Oh, darling, isn’t there some way we could make it work?” Charlotte asked. “Perhaps we could send Partridge along with them? No harm would come to them with Partridge present.”
Sophie straightened, nodding. “Of course. Mr. Partridge would be an excellent protector.” The man was built like the Tower of London. He had been in Marcus’s employ a long time, though what he actually did for her brother remained somewhat of a mystery. Guard, messenger, man-of-all-work?
But Marcus was already shaking his head. “I can’t spare Partridge at the moment.” He sent Charlotte one of those private looks that spoke volumes to her but merely left Sophie puzzled. “No, it’s quite impossible. You cannot go on your own, and I cannot spare anyone at this time.”
“May I interject?” Captain Wyvern cleared his throat. “If it is merely the lack of a male chaperone that is causing difficulties, might I offer my services? I would be pleased to accompany them to Devon and see them ensconced in a cottage at the seaside. If Mrs. Chapman could be convinced to join the excursion, I’m sure the ladies would be safe enough and well looked after.”
Travel with Captain Wyvern?
She wanted to refuse. The journey was an effort to get away from unpleasant associations. How could she do that if the captain went with them?
Marcus pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes. He hadn’t rejected the offer out of hand.
Clapping her hands softly, Mamie almost bounced in her chair. “Captain, that would be most kind of you.”
“I am at your service, madam.” He bowed to her, but he looked across Mamie’s gray curls to Sophie.
His eyes were a singular shade of blue, and sharp as hatpins. A zip of awareness caught her off guard. In that instant, she caught an inkling of what Cilla had seen. He did have a dashing air about him.
“That is most generous of you, Captain, but we wouldn’t want to impose.” Sophie put her hands in her lap. “I’m sure we can find our own way to the coast without putting you out.”
“It is no imposition. As I told you before, I am at your disposal, and nothing would make me happier than to assist you in some way.” He refused to look away, and Sophie couldn’t break his gaze either. “Out of respect for Major Richardson and all he meant to me, please allow me to perform this small service.”
“Of course,” Charlotte broke in. “What a perfect solution. Don’t you think so, Marcus?”
Her brother raised one eyebrow, staring shrewdly at his wife, as if wondering if he were being coerced into something against his better judgment. Then looking from one face to another around the table, he threw up his hands. “I can’t stand against all of you.” He put his palms out to stop anyone from speaking. “Provided you can earn the blessing of the dowager and that you will promise frequent communications while you’re gone.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Sophie pushed her chair back. “I’ll write every day if that is what it takes to alleviate your mind.” If the only way to go on the trip was in the company of the captain, then so be it. He would escort them to the shore, then he would go away, and she could breathe and think and heal in peace.
“Once a week or so should do. But before you start packing dresses and bonnets, you have Mother to convince. It’s not that I think you need her blessing in order to have a happy trip—it’s that I don’t want to be trapped here at Haverly all summer if she’s not in favor of your journey. Living with her would be unbearable under those circumstances.”
Sophie ignored his cautions and flew round the table to hug his neck. “Thank you, dear brother. You don’t know how happy this makes me. We’ll be fine. Mother will give her blessing.” She said this with more confidence than she felt.
He returned her embrace, and when he released her, she noted the smile playing round his lips. “You’d best hope so. Take the captain round to the dower house and introduce him as your minder. She was quite mannerly and subdued last night, but today will be a different story. For all his battle experience, the captain hasn’t faced a foe as formidable as our mother.”
An hour later, with Mamie safely in the care of Charlotte, Sophie tugged on her bonnet and gloves in the front hall. The captain waited patiently, his bicorn pinned under his arm, hands clasped behind his back.
“Thank you, Marcus.” Charlotte’s voice came from the morning room, where she and Mamie had retired after breakfast. “I know you have your reservations, but this is the most excited I’ve seen Sophie since we got word that Rich had been wounded. She’s been far too subdued of late, especially for someone of her exuberant temperament. Perhaps this trip will set her up for winter and allow her to put her mind on things other than her loss.”
Heat swarmed up Sophie’s neck and into her cheeks. Though she hadn’t heard anything ill of herself, it was still odd to discover others talking about her. And in the presence of someone else.
“I hope you’re right, dear. I can see the benefits, but it feels wrong to let her go when she’s in such a fragile state of heart. I know she won’t go alone, but I don’t like it.”
The captain pretended not to hear, for which she was thankful.
A footman held the door, and when they went outside, the captain put on his hat and offered his elbow.
He had gentlemanly manners, which should appeal to her mother.
“I feel as if I’m about to face a court martial.” He looked up at the blue sky, as if testing for incoming weather. “You expect your mother to strongly oppose the journey then? Is she so formidable then?”
“Marcus says if the War Secretary would only have put Mother in charge of the military, Napoleon would’ve been routed in a fortnight.” The gravel crunched beneath their feet, and the scent of roses drifted from the parterre garden like a beautiful memory.
“But I wouldn’t have you think ill of her. She has very definite ideas about things and isn’t short of speaking her mind, but she does care, and she has a kind heart underneath all the posturing and pontificating.” And dealing with the dowager had become much easier when Sophie realized that a lot of her mother’s blustering came because she cared so much about everything. “She loves pomp and being important and having something to occupy her mind. Like all of us, I suppose she just wants to be needed and thought important to someone.”
“I shall endeavor to be my most austere. I hope you are not too discomfited by my offer to accompany you on your trip. I shall attempt not to intrude.” He walked almost as if at attention.
Did he ever truly relax? Somehow she couldn’t see him lounging on the grass at a picnic or sprawled on a settee with the daily papers strewn about. Was he only comfortable when on board a ship?
Though she did remember him yesterday morning in his shirtsleeves striding down the back garden slope. Of course he’d hurried into his jacket and returned to his formal ways quickly.
“I should have thanked you for your offer straightaway. I’m afraid I got caught up in the moment and overlooked your generosity.” Casting back, her response had been rather abrupt and ungrateful.
“Perhaps this, in some small way, will begin to repay my debt.” He stared straight ahead, his voice bleak.
The man was positively fixated upon this supposed debt, though she had tried to disabuse his mind of the notion. Did he think a few gestures of generosity would make up for the loss of her beloved Rich? It would be easier if he would cease reminding her of the past.
They made the rest of the short trip to the dower house in silence. As they reached the stone structure, a happy laugh caught Sophie’s attention. Cilla had Honora Mary on a blanket under the trees at the north end of the house, and the baby’s giggles were undeniable.
Even the captain chuckled. The occurrence softened his features for a moment.
Cilla spied them, scooped up the baby, and came to the edge of the drive. “Good morning. I hadn’t thought to see you again, Captain. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but I understood you were to depart today. Has something come up to change your mind?” She looked at Sophie.
Honora Mary leaned out of Cilla’s embrace, holding up her arms to Captain Wyvern. The captain backed up a step, puzzlement in his eyes. Honora Mary’s face crumpled, and her lower lip quivered.
“Honestly, she’s never met a stranger.” Cilla moved closer and handed the baby to the captain, who took her as if she were a bomb with a lit fuse.
The baby hung in his hands, his arms straight out, her face split with an adorable smile. A gout of spittle rushed over her lower lip as she squealed and kicked.
“She appears to have sprung a leak.” Furrows lined the captain’s brow beneath the forepeak of his bicorn.
Cilla laughed and dabbed at the baby’s chin. “She’s teething.”
“She won’t break, will she?” he asked. “I’ve never done this before.”
Sophie smiled. “You look as if you’re the one about to shatter. Let her sit on your arm, and hold her against your chest so she doesn’t fall.” She helped him, but even with Honora Mary on his arm, he still looked as if he were holding an explosive. The man had lived through war, and he was flummoxed by a tiny girl.
Sophie wanted to laugh, the first such impulse in a long time. Something in her chest eased a bit, like the moment when you first took off your stays at night and drew a deep, unfettered breath.
The captain cleared his throat, his hand cradling Honora Mary’s back. “I know nothing of children, especially girl children, and certainly not one as young as this. I’ve never actually held a baby, and I suspect I’m doing it all wrong.”
“All it takes is a little practice,” Cilla said. “Have you come to see the dowager? She’s writing letters.”
When they entered the morning room a few moments later, Mother was indeed at her writing desk. Head bent studiously, her pen flowed over the paper. A small stack of cards and envelopes stood along the edge of the desk, evidence of her morning’s work.
“Mother, I hope we’re not interrupting?” Sophie went forward to place the customary kiss on her cheek. “What are you working on? Are those invitations?”
Mother wiped her pen and placed it in the holder. “They are. I’m having a small dinner party for some neighbors. A chance for the new help to practice serving during social functions. The girls are coming along, though they require quite a bit of guidance. I’m inviting the vicar, the magistrate, the Bellows, and the Fotheringhams. And of course your brother and Charlotte. I suppose it’s no use asking you to attend. You never want to come to my parties.”
Sophie tried to ignore the martyrdom in Mother’s voice and put a bright smile on her face. “I’m sure it will be a lovely dinner. You’re doing good work helping the ladies learn skills that will aid them in leaving their former lives behind. I’m afraid you’re correct though. I won’t be able to attend your party. I’m afraid I won’t be here.” If she presented the situation as fait accompli, perhaps Mother wouldn’t put up too much fuss. “Mamie and I are planning a trip to the seashore for a few weeks. We’re leaving as soon as possible. By tomorrow, if we can.”
When she realized she was rushing her words and twisting her fingers red, Sophie forced herself to relax. “You may wish to invite the new baron and his wife though. It would give you an excellent chance to study them, and I’m sure they’re curious about you as well. What do you plan to serve? Isn’t it nice that so many things are in season at the moment? Is Cilla going to help you with the flowers? She has such a nice touch with arrangements.”
Mother held up her hand. “Stop, Sophia. Don’t try to bury me in words. What’s this about a trip? With Mamie? Surely Marcus isn’t dropping everything to take you to the shore?”
“No.” Sophie said the word slowly. “Actually, he’s given permission for us to travel under the care of Captain Wyvern.”
The dowager’s sharp eyes went to the captain, who stood near the door. He wore his most commanding and haughty expression, and for some reason, Sophie wanted to giggle again. She’d mentioned that Mother loved pomp, and he was certainly providing that.
In spite of his demeanor, Mother shook her head, her tight curls bouncing on her cheeks. “Ridiculous. I forbid it. Get this notion out of your mind, Sophia. I won’t have my daughter traipsing about the countryside like a traveling minstrel. I’m shocked that Mamie, at her age, would even consider such a journey. You should both be content to stay at Haverly until your mourning period is over. Once that is completed, I shall begin the search for a new marriage partner for you.”
“No. No.” Sophie blinked, shaking her head. “No.” Why did she seem to be able to say nothing else? A new marriage? Unthinkable. She had already met the love of her life, and she had lost him. There would be no other. She backed up a couple of steps, grazing the mantel with her shoulder. “I do not wish to marry anyone.”
“You say that now, but you’re young. Once you get over the romance and the tragedy of it all, you’ll see that a sensible match is the best thing for your future. I always suspected I could get a better husband for you if you would have allowed me to conduct the search instead of accepting a mere baron’s proposal. Now, don’t get in a snit. Rich was a nice boy, and I liked him, but you have to admit, as a duke’s daughter, you could have had your pick of suitors. Certainly a marquess or an earl. Possibly even a duke.” Mother melted a bit of wax from the end of a stick onto the flap of an envelope and pressed her seal into it as it hardened. “I know what’s best for you. I shall begin casting my eye about, and this fall we can host a house party. It will be a bit on the early side, considering that Rich only passed away this summer, but it won’t hurt to look around. That way when the Season starts, we’ll have some ideas.”
Sophie couldn’t imagine the prospect of enduring a London Season as an eligible woman. She had foregone that ritual by be
coming engaged to Rich before she had to make her society debut, and she had not regretted it for a moment, though her mother had moaned that she’d been done out of bringing a daughter out. Time to get back to the subject at hand. She would deal with Mother’s matchmaking schemes when she had to, but for now it was the trip that must be settled.
“Mother, Mamie is desirous of seeing her birthplace before she is no longer able, and I wish to accompany her. Marcus has given his blessing, provided you are also amenable to the idea. I feel a trip to the shore will be beneficial to me as well, a chance to get away from unpleasant memories and the changes that are bound to occur at Primrose and settle my mind to what lies ahead.” Mother might think that included a betrothal and marriage, but she would be disabused of that notion soon enough. “We will be under the watchful eye of Captain Wyvern, who has graciously offered to see to our protection and comforts.”
“Madam.” He bowed, clicking his heels together as he did so. “I assure you, the ladies will be safe in my care. I shall provide escort, see to their lodging and safety, and not leave their side until they are ensconced in suitable quarters. I shall make it my duty. And as you know, an officer’s duty is sacred.” He actually put his hand over his heart.
Sophie looked quickly out the window to hide her smile. Mother pushed her chair back and stood, all but floating over and presenting her hand. Did her lashes actually flutter?
“Captain, I am sure you would be a more than suitable chaperone for Lady Richardson and my daughter, but surely you can understand a mother’s misgivings? Sophia has never traveled on her own before, and she’s in such a fragile state of mind, what with being so recently bereaved. I’m afraid it’s quite impossible that she should leave home at this time.”