Sophie's Halloo

by Patricia Wynn

  He finished his speech with a convincing warmth, knowing that the likelihood of Tony’s traveling so far on such a thankless errand would be improbable.

  Tony stared at Sophie’s father a moment longer. He was aware that Sir John had derived an enormous pleasure from making his announcement, but he could not doubt its truth all the same. Surely, Sir John would not invent such a story. And suddenly he thought he understood the meaning of Sophie’s silence when he had asked her about marriage. Had she been going to kiss him? He would never know. Perhaps he had only imagined the dreamy submission he thought he had seen in her eyes.

  Aware of Sir John’s watchful gaze upon him, Tony rose to his feet. The lightness was gone from his movements, but he managed to bow with a tolerable grace.

  Not willing to discuss the matter with one whom he knew to be the engineer of his disappointment, however, he merely said, “You will be kind enough, I hope, to give Miss Corby my sincere wishes for her future happiness. And to you, my congratulations, Sir John.” It was handsomely said, but not without special meaning. Sir John, however, felt only the truth of it. “Your servant,” said Tony as he quitted the room and the house, never expecting to return.

  Sir John chuckled joyfully over his success and took the liberty of enjoying a cheroot in the parlour while he finished his paper. By the time Sophie and her mother returned, he had left again for his club.

  Lady Corby wondered, as they strolled in, if she did not detect a smell of smoke in the parlour, but Sophie was oblivious to it. She had immediately gone to the tray in the corridor to see if any cards had been left and had been puzzled, but a bit relieved, not to find any. Thinking only that Tony had not yet found the time to come around, she could only be grateful that she had not missed his call.

  But the day passed, and there was still no sign of him. On the next day, Sophie pleaded a headache and listened painfully for a rap upon the door, but the only callers that day were two elderly ladies who had been friends of her grandmother.

  By the third day, Sophie was in a panic, certain that something horrible had happened to Tony and that no one had known to send her word. She fought the urge to ask her mother to write a note to Lady Farnham, not wanting to risk incurring Sir John’s displeasure again by doing so.

  Finally, as the week ended, Sophie came to the conclusion that her father had managed to waylay Tony outside his club and to deliver his edict. But she dared not ask him. His uncertain temper was always a deterrent to confrontation, and she knew that she would not be served by questioning him. She could only wait until the following Wednesday when she would surely see Tony at the assembly at Almack’s, and she doubted that her father had gone so far as to forbid Tony to address her.

  But on Wednesday she suffered a greater blow, for not only did she not have the chance to speak to Tony, she could not see that he was even present. She looked about the room throughout the evening, but never saw him, and she was reasonably certain that her eyes would have been drawn to him instinctively had he been there.

  Her partners could not help but notice that her interest was engaged elsewhere, and she was so lacking in spirits, in spite of her efforts to hide it, that none of them requested a second dance. For the first time since her appearance at the assembly room, she was obliged to sit out two of the dances. And that insult, added to her misery, only served to make her feel worse.

  It was with a feeling of hopeless resignation that Sophie endured the next two weeks. Sir John saw to it that Mr. Rollo was a frequent guest to dinner. But learning from the lessons Tony had given her, Sophie was able to deflect his attention from herself at will by asking him about one of the hunts. Then she needed only to sit back and watch as Sir John and Mr. Rollo pursued the subject. Yet her father’s ambitions on her behalf came closer and closer to being realized.

  Rollo himself had not been reciprocal in the number of invitations he had made them. Aside from a few more rides in the park, to which Sophie only consented from the hopes of seeing Tony, and the “shilling well spent” at the Royal Academy, he had been most frugal in is entertaining of the Corbys. A man less inclined to favour him than Sir John might have been a bit suspicious of this lack of hospitality, but Sophie’s father chose not to regard it, having in his own mind the urgent necessity of returning to Leicestershire in early June. To his way of thinking, all was going swimmingly, although he trusted Mr. Rollo would not disappoint him by ignoring the hunting calendar in choosing when to make his proposal.

  At the end of the two weeks, however, Mr. Rollo was feeling the need to make a more costly bid for Miss Corby’s hand and Sir John’s heart. He made a trip to the city, and managed upon the credit of his failing aunt, to borrow enough to fund a dinner party and a night at Drury Lane. Sir John, not knowing, of course, that his advice had been thus firmly ignored, accepted the invitation for them all with the assurance of a transaction being nearly complete.

  They were treated to an excellent dinner at the White Hart by a jovial host. Mr. Rollo, confident for once of having a fat purse for the evening, did not refuse to enjoy the claret himself. After dinner, they made their way to Drury Lane in Mr. Rollo’s own coach, and the two gentlemen conversed pleasurably about the team of horses.

  Sophie was silent, her mother noticed, as she had been of late. There was no longer any colour about her cheeks, and her eyes had lost the sparkle of youth which had gleamed brighter than ever since their coming to London. Nor had Lady Corby failed to notice that Sir Tony was suddenly absent from all their doings, and she would have felt the absence on her own account had she not felt it so strongly on her daughter’s.

  The first play to be performed that evening was Shakespeare’s Othello, and in different circumstances Sophie would have been beside herself with expected pleasure. But tonight, as she watched Edmund Kean upon the stage, as thrilled as she was by his fine performance, she could only think of the time she had met him as being the last day she had seen Tony. The play threatened to move her beyond what was normal, and she had to strive to maintain her sense of detachment.

  At its end, however, she stood with the rest of the roaring crowd to applaud a flawless performance, wishing only that Mr. Kean could somehow meet her eye and convey to her with a look his knowledge of Tony’s whereabouts.

  The next play was to be a farce, but there was time in between for the audience to mix and to drift back and forth between the boxes. Again Sophie’s father spared her from speaking to Mr. Rollo beyond thanking him for the rare treat, for he was as eager as ever to talk over old hunting days. Looking about the theatre, lost in thought and only half seeing the people around her, as had been her habit before meeting Tony, she suddenly came alert as she spied a well-loved figure across the balcony.

  Tony had just entered one of the boxes and was now speaking to a lovely woman who was dressed in the height of fashion, très décolleté, her bosom decked with jewels. Sophie felt the anger rise within her as she remembered her fears for his safety and whereabouts, realizing that they had been nothing more than a substitution for the betrayal she should have felt.

  For Tony was perfectly well. Although she was observing him from a distance, she could see enough to know that the lady was flirting with him outrageously and that Tony’s manner was not discouraging. Sophie watched as the lady, clearly not an ingénue rapped him playfully with her fan, and she seethed as Tony leaned a bit closer to whisper in her ear. But she was not able to take her eyes off the scene, though every minute added to her torture.

  The curtain went up for the farce to commence, and only then did Tony relinquish his seat by the pretty lady to the gentleman who had accompanied her. When he did, Sophie looked away quickly to avoid meeting his eyes should he chance to see her, not wanting him to know how badly she had been hurt. But presently, not able to stem her curiosity, she stole another glance. She fancied that he had been standing and staring fixedly at her, but as quickly as she had turned, so had he, and the last she saw of him was his back as he strode out of the
box.

  The result of this episode was that Sophie did not hear a word of the play that followed. Her heart was beating so strangely and so uncomfortably, that her mind could only race in errant circles. Earnestly did she hope that she would not encounter Sir Tony in the corridor as they left their box, and yet her eyes did not stop searching for him among the audience, despite the darkness of the theatre. Her heart was breaking, and the proof of it was the hurt that would not leave her chest.

  The evening could not end too quickly for Sophie. Afterwards, she marvelled how she had found the strength to make her way outside the theatre, endure the long wait for their carriage and thank Mr. Rollo properly as he took them to their door. The ache within her seemed to affect her breathing strangely, yet she experienced it all as if in a dream and outwardly showed no sign of failing. It was not until she reached the comfort of her room later that she gave way to her emotions.

  But before she could experience the relief of solitude, another worry was added to her agony. After telling his host good-night and accompanying the ladies indoors, Sir John requested their presence immediately in the parlour. Sophie would have pled a headache at this point had he not given an indication that what he had to say would be of particular importance to herself.

  They entered the parlour, and Sir John took a moment to ring for a glass of port. Lady Corby and Sophie declined to join him with a glass of sherry, but they waited patiently for his to arrive before they asked for his news.

  “Ah, yes,” said Sir John, settling himself comfortably now that the servant had left the room. “I do have something to tell you that should interest you. Mr. Rollo, who has so kindly entertained us this evening, has just issued me a most interesting invitation.” He glanced significantly over his goblet at Sophie. Her heart, which had seemed to throb with a dull ache, gave a lurch as she awaited his dreadful news. “He has,” continued Sir John impressively, “asked me to accompany him to his estate on a fishing expedition. I do not need to tell you, Sophie, the significance I attach to his request.” He took a sip of port and smiled at his ladies with satisfaction.

  Lady Corby glanced rapidly at Sophie but could find no enthusiasm in her fixed regard. She did not doubt Sir John’s interpretation of the event, for Mr. Rollo’s attentions had always been particular and of late more so than ever. The evening to which he had just treated them had been attended by an air of celebration, the reason for which she did not have to search far. And now it seemed, Mr. Rollo wished to have some time alone with Sophie’s father, when the subject of matrimony was certain to be discussed.

  But Lady Corby had not failed to notice that Sophie had withdrawn of late. She had lost the gaiety and liveliness she had so lately acquired in Sir Tony’s company and had seemed less in touch with her surroundings than ever before, even at home in Leicestershire. For this reason, her mother was reluctant to commit herself on the outcome of Mr. Rollo’s suit. And although she foresaw dreadful possibilities if Sophie should refuse the young man, she intended to support her daughter whatever her wishes. So she responded in a more cautious tone than Sir John would have liked to hear.

  “Indeed,” she said noncommittally. “That would seem to be most interesting. Mr. Rollo is certainly decided in his regard for you, Sir John,” she added quite truthfully. Lady Corby encouraged her husband to expound upon the virtues of the young gentleman and kept her own responses cheerful until the warmth of his port could take his mind off the two young people. Then she quickly ushered Sophie off to bed before he could notice that she had not responded to his announcement.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “I don’t like Sophie’s looks,” said Aunt Sadie a few days later as she sipped tea with Lady Corby in the parlour. “She looks all done up.”

  Lady Corby’s eyes met those of her sister-in-law over the brim of her cup, which she then replaced carefully back on its saucer. “I know,” she agreed, happy to have someone with whom to discuss Sophie’s poor spirits. “I am afraid something has happened to distress her considerably, but she has not confided in me.”

  “It’s not this Rollo fellow, is it?” enquired Sadie bluntly.

  “Perhaps,” said Lady Corby. “He is becoming very particular, you know. Still,” she added, “I cannot help but think there might be another reason.”

  Sadie nodded her head wisely, but she was frowning with displeasure. “It’s Tony, isn’t it? He’s hedged off.”

  Lady Corby shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Her sister-in-law’s words were not the ones she would have chosen to use, but she did not intend to avoid addressing the issue. “I do not know. It seemed, at least for a while, that he was pursuing his interest with Sophie. I was almost certain...” She did not finish the thought. “Anyway, we have not seen him for some time now.”

  Sadie was still frowning deeply. “It doesn’t figure, Clarissa. I would not have thought the boy could be so fickle. Sure, he is a bit hard to pin down at times, but I would have been willing to swear he was one you could count on. I don’t like to be wrong about people,” she said, ending on a threatening note.

  “Let’s not be hasty, Sadie,” cautioned Lady Corby, not without some alarm. Then she chided herself for having entertained the thought, however briefly, that her sister-in-law meant to challenge Sir Tony to a duel. “We really do not know the facts in the case.”

  “Well,” said her stout companion, “I do not like to see the gel getting thin and pale. Perhaps a drive would do her good. I remember her saying that she would like to learn to handle the reins, and there’s nothing like a challenge to improve the spirits.”

  A few weeks ago, Lady Corby might not have agreed to the scheme so readily, but her concern for Sophie was now so strong that she was happy to accept any suggestion. So off she went in search of her daughter to persuade her at least to take the air in her aunt’s phaeton.

  While she was absent from the room, Sir John came in from his club to take leave from the family before going on to Mr. Rollo’s estate. He was hopeful of returning to London in a week’s time with the terms of a marriage proposal all arranged.

  Presently, Lady Corby and Sophie joined them, and Sir John, heartily approving the proposed outing, bade his daughter goodbye with the cheerful words, “I shall hope to have something to surprise you with, Sophie, when I get back to Town. And then,” he added happily, “we may all be off for home and through with this nonsense.”

  “Papa,” began Sophie with a touch of defeat in her voice. She had tried to make her feelings clear to him on a number of occasions since the night of the theatre party, but her strength had now been sapped by her own level of hopelessness. “I hope you do not mean to speak to Mr. Rollo of marriage, for I am certain that we would not suit.”

  In desperation, she had expressed herself more forcefully than ever before, and Sir John could not ignore her this time.

  His collar threatened to strangle him as indignation took hold. “Nonsense, Sophie! Let us have no more on the matter! I have managed through diligence and hard planning to land a promising young man for you, one, moreover, whom I shall be delighted to call son-in-law, and you have the dashed ingratitude—I will try not to put it more forcefully—to threaten to decline his offer. Rollo can offer you a home, his estates and courage in the field that you can be proud of. Now, what more does a woman need? Your mother can tell you that that has been good enough for her all these years, and you will certainly not pretend to have better claims to happiness than she has. And,” he added to his sister as she opened her mouth to speak, “I do not want to discuss it with you.”

  Her father’s words about his own wife’s happiness, Sophie reflected, were not as cheering as he had intended. But she declined to comment further. His mind was fixed and, short of a miracle, would not be changed. Her own mind was made up as well, and she had already decided on a plan of action if Mr. Rollo did, indeed, come up to scratch. She would refuse his offer, of course, no matter how much her father ranted and raved about it, and she doubted Sir John
could force her to accept without sacrificing his own good name in the bargain.

  If he then cast her off (and she almost hoped that he would), she would apply to her Aunt Sadie for assistance, and she trusted that large-hearted lady would take her in. She had no doubt that they would deal well together, even if it meant for her retiring at an early age to the countryside in Kent.

  Not wishing to debate the question further. Sir John kissed his sister and his wife goodbye and, declining to recognize Sophie with this sign of his affection, cautioned her to mind her manners until his return. Then he went off, muttering about ingratitude until the prospect of a country view offered him a happier subject for his thoughts.

  “Well, Sophie,” said Aunt Sadie, feeling, for once, powerless to offer much in the way of comfort, “let us go out for a turn to shake the cobwebs from our minds.” She patted the girl almost gently on the back and received a grateful smile in return. Taking this for an answer, she led the way outside to where her carriage was waiting and spoke to the boy who was walking the horses.

  “Get yourself up behind, Jemmy. Miss Corby will be joining me on the box.” Her tiger held the horses’ heads until the ladies were settled up in front and then ran quickly to jump on the back as the spirited team took a plunge. Sophie eyed them with a certain lack of confidence, but Aunt Sadie nodded her approval. “The leaders are still a bit frisky today,” she said. “I’d rather that than a shirker. Now, watch me closely, Sophie, and listen to what I say.” She headed them carefully out from the curb, but once they were out in traffic, allowed them to go at their own pace.

  “You must place your feet firmly down on the foot-boards,” she began, “to support you on the box. It would help,” she added critically, “if you had more bottom, but perhaps it will come with age. Mine did.” The reflection did not seem to dismay her.

  As Sophie watched, Aunt Sadie gave her all the basic instructions she must have to begin to handle a team, and she listened with growing interest as the carriage raced at breakneck speed through the crowded city streets. A moment more, and they were at the gates to Hyde Park. Her aunt pulled the horses down to a trot as she prepared to hand her the reins.