Sophie's Halloo

by Patricia Wynn

  “Yes,” said Sophie, “so you have told me.” Her look left no doubt about her opinion of his motives.

  And, indeed, she saw out the corner of her eye that her mother had just recalled her father to dinner, and that he was looking about the room for Sophie, his hand clasping Mr. Rollo’s arm. When he spotted her entering the dining room with Tony, he frowned deeply and his face reddened quickly. Avoiding his eye, Sophie made for the safety of the table, knowing it was too late for Sir John to do anything about her dinner partner now.

  In spite of the glares she sensed coming her way from time to time during the meal that followed, Sophie thought she had never enjoyed a birthday celebration more than she did that evening. Tony’s companionship was at all times uplifting to her spirits. She felt strangely alive and unaccustomedly alert whenever she was with him. And this was the first time that she had sat so long beside him and had him so much to herself.

  By a fortunate coincidence, the couple to either side of them were also happy with their choices of dinner partners and very little in the way of interruptions came between them. Tony kept her amused with the half-serious, half-teasing sort of talk he seemed to make. And presently, she did find the right moment to thank him for his gift, in a trembling voice that did not conceal her delight.

  “I am glad you liked it,” he said, obviously pleased. “I have found myself rereading them of late and hoped you would not be offended to receive them from me.’’ He watched for her reaction to his words, but Sophie lowered her eyelashes in confusion, unable to meet his direct gaze. Uncertain whether she should read too much into his meaning, she answered in a rallying tone.

  “Of course not. How could I be? But I confess myself disappointed not to hear the birthday ode you wrote for me.” She half-expected him to deny the existence of one, but to her surprise he did not.

  “In that case, I shall tell it to you one day, but you must excuse me from reading it before anyone else. After Mr. Rollo’s performance, I should be unmanned by the public attention.”

  Sophie looked up in surprise. “You mean there really is one? When shall I hear it? You really do mean to tell it to me?”

  Tony’s lips twitched in amusement, but he nodded sincerely. “I do. But I shall wait for the time to be right.”

  ‘‘And when shall that be?”

  “Soon,” he answered. ‘‘You’ll remember that my friends do not consider me much of a poet, but I shall hope beyond hope that my poem does please you.”

  Sophie gave him a sceptical look, her head a bit to one side. “How do I know whether or not to believe you, Sir Tony? When I first met you, I thought you the most open of gentlemen. And yet, I have learned there are times when you are not always so guileless as you appear.” She examined him from beneath her lashes, but Tony only grinned.

  ‘‘Peculiar, isn’t it, Miss Corby?” he agreed. Then turning his blue gaze on her he added, “I wonder, have you any theories as to the possible reason for my strange behaviour of late?” Sophie looked up to see his eyes twinkling merrily. His smile was so radiant it left her with no doubt as to his meaning. Her heart beat strangely within her, and she made no attempt to hide her answering dimples.

  When dinner was nearly over, Tony remembered to tell her that she and her mother would soon be receiving a card from some of his friends to attend a salon and that he would be pleased to take them in his carriage if they would accept. Sophie told him she was certain they would be delighted to go and would send him a message as soon as they received their invitation.

  “Good,” said Tony. “I hope you will enjoy it. The salons are usually held in the afternoon, and they are remarkably informal. I think you will like the people you meet there. They are not all sportsmen,’’ he finished with a chuckle.

  Sophie laughed, but mostly at herself. During the past month in London she had come to realize that it was her own family and not Sir Tony who was eccentric.

  The meal was too soon over and with it Tony’s time alone with Sophie. For as soon as the gentlemen joined the ladies after their port, Sir John made certain that Mr. Rollo got the post nearest his daughter, and it was not until they parted for the evening that Sophie was able to speak to Tony again. As he took his leave of the entire family, he made a point of thanking Sophie’s mother for the excellent dinner and finished by issuing an invitation.

  “Lady Corby,’’ he said, “my mother has requested me to invite you and Miss Corby to tea at her house next Thursday. She lives in Notting Hill, and I should be happy to escort you.”

  Lady Corby was almost flustered by the invitation, but after glancing once at Sophie’s pleased expression, she accepted it with pleasure.

  She was fully conscious that an invitation of this kind could mean that Sir Tony was anxious for his mother to meet and approve Sophie. But if she had not been, Sir John’s frown would have alerted her. A time was agreed upon, and Tony took his leave, not forgetting to wish Sophie a happy birthday once again.

  Sir John managed to hold his tongue until the last of the guests had departed, but since that last guest was Mr. Rollo, he was careful to say nothing until the door had closed behind him. Then, however, he immediately called Sophie to account, over the protests of his wife, for “sequestering herself with that Farnham fellow.”

  Ignoring Lady Corby’s defense of her daughter he said, “How she could eat with a thistle-whipper like Farnham when Rollo had just delivered a birthday ode to her, I cannot imagine. Have you no sense of what is due to the young man, Sophie?”

  “Certainly, Papa,” lied Sophie, not wishing to raise her father’s ire, “but Sir Tony had asked to be my dinner partner quite early in the evening before anyone else had. And I had no reason to refuse him. Why, Mr. Rollo never once raised the notion.”

  “Humpph!” snorted Sir John, only ruffled by this reasonable answer. “And Farnham saw to it that Rollo did not have the chance. Kept him busy talking to himself the whole evening. Well, I’ll give him one thing. He’s no slow top.”

  Sophie repressed a smile, but her father’s next remark was less to her liking.

  “I do not like this scheme of his to take you to meet his mother. It smacks of something. I’ll not say what, but I don’t want you to encourage him, Sophie. He’s not the man for you.”

  Lady Corby spoke quickly, “Oh, Sir John! I do not think you need fear that Sir Tony’s invitation has any special significance. Why, there has been no hint of it. I should think he has just persuaded his mother to give us a treat in view of our limited acquaintance in Town. He has tried to make our time here as pleasant as possible. It is really most kind.”

  Her words seemed to have a beneficial effect upon her husband’s temper, for he did not snort again, but mumbled something about not needing any kindness from him. Then he said, “Well, if that is the way it is, you may go, but I do not want you to make a habit of always being seen in his company. People might get the wrong impression. And there is no need for more acquaintances. We shall be gone from London soon, and we shall have no need for them then.”

  Sophie knew that what he was saying was all too true. She could not count on her father’s staying in London even until the end of the social season. He would have scores of things to do to prepare for next November’s hunting. But she was grateful to her mother for playing down the importance of Tony’s invitation if it meant that her father would allow them to go. He seemed to have developed a strong objection to Tony since meeting Mr. Rollo, and she was in no doubt as to his mind. He wanted to have her married to Rollo before this year’s hunting season could start.

  Lady Corby was watching her daughter’s face as she digested these thoughts. She had only recently begun to suspect that Sophie had a preference for Sir Tony and until tonight had not realized that it might be mutual. Up until now, Sir Tony had not singled Sophie out for his attention. He had always been careful not to embarrass her with too much obvious devotion and had instead acted the pleasant guest with them all. Now, it seemed otherwise, and while
Lady Corby liked him very much, she was afraid that Sir John would not allow the suit to prosper, preferring as he clearly did the prospect of having Mr. Rollo for a son-in-law. She, however, planned to do her utmost to allow Sophie to have her choice.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The day of the expedition to Notting Hill arrived, and both Lady Corby and Sophie could be glad that Sir John was not at home to see them off. He had left for his club earlier in the day and seemed to have forgotten their plans entirely. They hoped to be home before he could find them gone and recall his grievances on the occasion.

  It was a brisk late-April day, unusually sunny but without too much wind, and Sophie considered it a grand day for a drive. Tony drove his team at a careful pace to Oxford Street and then faster as they passed the entrance to Hyde Park and headed out into the country. Sophie was seated beside her mother in the carriage so there was not much opportunity for her to converse with Tony in the city, but once they were beyond the rows of buildings, he was able to turn his head to give an occasional answer over his shoulder.

  “Does your mother stay in the city for much of the year, Sir Tony?” enquired Lady Corby.

  “Well, yes and no, Lady Corby,” answered Tony. “You see, the house to which we are going is now mother’s country place, but it is close enough to the city to allow her to drive in whenever she wishes. She keeps a town house open at all times and prefers never to be too far from it. But she has taken the house in Notting Hill so that she can pursue her more rural interests.”

  “Does she not visit you in Hampshire?” asked Sophie.

  They could hear the amusement in Tony’s voice as he answered, “No, never. She abhors the place. It reminds her too forcibly of my father. I cannot say that I blame her, but I, of course, was at school most of the time, so it is easier for me to forget that he was ever there. He seldom was in the holidays, anyway. He was away at the races.”

  “Theirs was not a happy marriage, then?” asked Lady Corby sympathetically.

  “No,” said Tony. Then after a pause he added impishly, “Miss Corby, I had hoped you would say voluntarily and rather spontaneously that at least it had produced me!” Sophie giggled by way of response and obliged him, although without the spontaneity for which he had wished. And even Lady Corby laughed at his impudence.

  They arrived at Lady Farnham’s before long. Indeed, Sophie was surprised at the quickness of the journey and could only credit the skill of Tony’s driving, which had taken them over the roads at a spanking pace without causing them any discomfort. They found themselves at a charming Georgian house, which was somewhat larger than might be expected for a widow without her own fortune. Tony explained that his mother often entertained guests for days at a time, but that the house was now empty of company.

  The door was opened by a respectable servant, who showed them into a bright, cheerful parlour and told them that her ladyship would be advised of their arrival. A fire was already burning in the grate, and early flowers had been arranged and distributed throughout the room. When Lady Corby admired them for their colour and variety, Tony explained that his mother was a skillful gardener and cultivated a wide assortment of bulbs.

  They had sat conversing for no more than a few minutes, when the door to the garden burst open and a ghostly apparition with trailing white limbs entered. Lady Corby so far forgot herself as to issue a startled “oh,” before covering her mouth in apology, for the spectre, on seeing them, let out with an enthusiastic cry of welcome.

  “Tony! My dearest! And dear, dear Sophia, I’ll warrant! And this must be Lady Corby. Welcome, my dears, welcome.” And with that, the startling creature, draped in layers of white gauze and lace, approached them with arms outstretched.

  Tony went forward unperturbed to meet the apparition, who Sophie had guessed by now must be Lady Farnham, but he was frustrated in his attempt to plant a kiss on her cheek by all the layers of lace. Laughing at her own forgetfulness, Lady Farnham explained, “I don’t wonder that I scared you out of your wits, but you see I was only coming to see whether you had arrived and as soon as I saw you, I forgot how I was dressed. I daresay Bacon is trying to find me to tell me you are here.”

  Tony was smiling down affectionately at the diminutive ghost beside him, but Sophie and her mother still could not make out any features behind the as yet unexplained mask. Now Tony presented them, and they shook hands with her ladyship, who was fully gloved, as well.

  “I imagine you may be wondering what has possessed me to dress like a haunt at this time of the day and are too well-bred to ask—although saying ‘at this time of the day’ is rather ridiculous, I suppose,” bubbled Lady Farnham. “Well, I was simply outdoors tending my bees and I had forgotten exactly what time to expect you, even though Tony is always punctual. Or so he tells me. I do not pay that much attention to the hour, myself. But anyway, as I am already done up this way, I will not change just yet if Sophie would like to come outside with me to see the bees.”

  Sophie, her eyes wide with delight, was finding herself more enchanted by the moment with Lady Farnham’s artless chatter, and she had already determined from which parent Sir Tony had got his open manner. Glancing once his way and seeing his satisfied expression she accepted eagerly, but was surprised soon after to hear her own mother’s voice asking wistfully, “Might I come, too?” Turning, she saw that Lady Corby had fallen under the spell of this strange warm creature as certainly as she had done herself.

  “My dear Lady Corby, of course!” exclaimed Lady Farnham happily. “I did not mean to exclude you at all. You must understand that I am so used to being refused by so many of my friends that I have assumed only the young people will have the heart for it. But you are so pretty and young yourself, I daresay you fear nothing at all.”

  Lady Corby accepted this strange reading of her character with no more than a flicker of the eyelids. She was surprised to find herself growing braver just upon hearing Lady Farnham’s assumption. And, in no more than a moment, they had followed their hostess out the door and around the side of the house to a sunny flower garden. Here and there they could see individual bees hovering and closing in on a bright flower. But before they could discover the location of the beehive, Lady Farnham remembered something.

  “We must be very careful,” she told them quietly. “You see, I have just robbed them of their honey and they are not terribly pleased with me at the moment. But you must protect yourselves and if we do not threaten them again, I am certain they will forget all about it and let us watch them closely. Here,” she said, beginning to unravel a swath of gauze from around her head, “you must drape this over your head and shoulders loosely, not just your face, for they can just as well sting the top of your head or your ear. So I have learned to my discomfort.”

  Sophie offered the first piece of material to her mother, who obediently placed it over her head and shoulders with Tony’s help. And Lady Corby continued to unwrap pieces from about her own head until they began to make out the outline of her face beneath.

  “No, no dear,” said the now visible lady in response to Sophie’s protest that she did not want to strip her of her own protection. “I shall not need so much just to watch them, you see. I only wrapped myself so completely because I knew I was going to anger them. But we shall all be perfectly safe with about two pieces of lace or gauze each. Just be certain not to leave any bare spots! Tony,” she asked as an afterthought, “shall I have Bacon bring you some or do you not intend to join us.”

  “No, thank you, Mother,” he said, as though grateful for the reprieve. “I shall just sit over here and enjoy the prospect of three lovely spirits in my mother’s garden.” He watched them off and took a seat on the ground beneath a spreading elm.

  “Just as you like, love,” said Lady Farnham as they left him to cross the lawn. “But don’t let him fool you, my dears,” she said in an undervoice to her guests. “He would have you think he is too frightened of the bees, but he often helps me with them. That boy!” She tu
t-tutted affectionately.

  Sophie smiled beneath her layers of gauze. She felt a bit ridiculous traipsing across the lawn this way in the wake of Tony’s mother, but at the same time she marvelled to think that but a few minutes ago they had not even made her acquaintance. Lady Farnham had the same gift of putting one at one’s ease as her son—or perhaps it was the other way around. At any rate, both Sophie and her mother felt remarkably at home, considering they were about to do something they had never done before.

  “Is this what one always wears when tending bees, Lady Farnham?” asked Lady Corby. “It is odd that I have never noticed anyone dressed this way in the country, when I think of the quantity of honey we consume.”

  Her hostess laughed delightedly. “Heavens, my dear! I do not have the faintest idea what anyone else wears to tend bees, but it is what I wear. And it works rather well, as you will see. One can see through the gauze or the lace, but the bees cannot penetrate them to sting. Now, here we are,” she said as they reached an aged tree trunk with a gaping hole in its side.

  As Sophie and her mother could see and hear, they had now arrived at the hive, where an alarming number of bees were buzzing about the entrance. They slowed their pace instinctively and crept cautiously closer. Lady Farnham gestured to them to stop a few steps away and lowered her voice again before speaking.

  “Tm afraid they are still rather upset about the theft of their honey, but I did think we should have some with our tea this afternoon. If we wait here, perhaps they will settle down a bit.”

  Sophie peered rather anxiously at the bees, hoping that their anger would not extend to her and her mother, who were, after all, innocent of any wrongdoing. But after watching them for a while, she decided that their buzzings and hoverings were random and without harmful intent, and she began to relax and become curious. It occurred to her that for all the honey she had eaten, she had never much thought of the bees that produced it, and she began to wonder how they did it. She ventured a question in a cautious whisper.