by Lucy Langton
Chapter 6
Sophia lay face-down on her bed in tears. It had been a week since she had been wed – an entire week – and there was nothing to show for it. In that short amount of time, not only had there been no physical contact between her and her husband, it also seemed as though his drinking was getting worse.
How had he hidden his problem so well in the short time that she had already known him? When he visited the Barberry home, he drank a few simple cocktails and that was all. Even on the SS Duchess of Gloucester, there were no signs of overt intoxication. Maybe being at Willow Grange gave Lord Timothy license to indulge in his greatest vice. Sophia knew not the cause, but she did know that her husband was out of control.
And so it came as no surprise that morning when she woke up alone in her bed, wondering what the devil had gone so wrong. Not only was there the need for physical intimacy with one’s spouse, but Sophia also had to consider the fact that the Clumber name needed an heir. What on earth was she going to do?
Wiping her eyes and turning to look out the window, Sophia was not comforted by the fact that it was a terribly gloomy morning. That was another surprise in her first week at Willow Grange. Although the first few days had been glorious, once the guests departed, the flowers were taken down, and the wedding decorations stored in the basement, it seemed like the weather of the countryside abruptly shifted. The happy, puffy white clouds spread into a haze of grey, and the sun managed to disappear altogether. From where she lay on her bed, she could see raindrops collecting on the window.
The thought occurred to Sophia that it was all too pathetic. Her husband might be passed out in his own room, and no doubt would not come down to breakfast, but Sophia was not going to lie there like a ninny, crying her eyes out all day. And so she got up, chose a smashing yellow dress, had Arabella fix her hair, and off she went downstairs for the most enjoyable and infuriating part of her day.
Her breakfast meetings with Philip had continued during that week, and it was a relief for Sophia. Philip was someone she could interact with, even if he was exasperating. The rather large dining room table at which the family sat for breakfast was really only populated by the Duke of Clumber in his wheelchair, often coughing and wheezing, as well as Philip, Sophia and any other guests that so happened to be staying at the house. Although the table could seat up to twenty, Philip always took it upon himself to sit right next to Sophia, even if it was just the three of them dining. What’s more, he would pull his chair deliberately close to hers so that he could steal her food, if only to make her laugh.
“What are you doing with yourself today, Philip?” the Duke of Clumber asked.
“Riding in the fields, going into town, carousing.”
That simple answer explained everything that Philip enjoyed doing, and Sophia wondered at the carousing portion of it. Although Sophia assumed that Philip was a kind of ne’er-do-well, she still couldn’t help but wonder why it was that the soldier chose to fritter his days away at Willow Grange, without a wife or anything of particular importance to do.
“And what about yourself, Lady Sophia?” the duke asked.
“There are some new plans for the garden that I’m overseeing. Although it seems a trifle strange to do so in this weather,” she said, looking out of the window at the grey clouds. “There are other matters to attend to concerning an upcoming luncheon that I’m hosting, as well as preparations for tonight’s supper.”
The Duke of Clumber looked impressed. In one short week of being at Willow Grange, Sophia was already asserting herself as the lady of the house, and what’s more, she was enjoying it.
Silence followed as the breakfast continued, and Sophia could guess what was on everyone’s mind: where was Lord Timothy? Sophia was waiting for Philip to tease her about it, the fact that they had not yet shared the same bed. Philip picked up his fork and stole a piece of Sophia’s bacon.
“Stop that,” she said, her whispered words echoing throughout the room.
“I won’t stop,” Philip said, leaning in and whispering in her ear. Sophia felt a warm tremor down her spine when he did so. He meant it to be playful, but the physical proximity of him had a surprising effect on Sophia’s body.
It wasn’t the first time that this strange tremor had occurred. It seemed like at least once a day there would be some kind of physical interaction between her and her brother-in-law that would cause a stir. Once, she merely gazed across the room at Philip and felt that same deep pull within her. Sophia couldn’t quite explain the sensation. It was hard to tell if the feeling was instructing her to walk towards him or run for her life in the opposite direction.
As the Duke of Clumber excused himself from the table, informing them that he was not feeling well and needed to retire to his chambers till teatime, Sophia and Philip shared a moment of silence, sipping their tea and looking out the windows as the rain continued to fall.
“Ah, melancholy,” Philip said with a sigh.
“I rather like this weather,” Sophia replied. “Although it’s dark now, it’s the price one pays to see an exquisite bloom.”
“How optimistic,” Philip replied smugly.
“It’s not optimism, but rather the nature of things.”
“There’s always a rainbow after a storm,” Philip replied with a sing-song voice.
“Well, I believe that to be the truth.”
Sophia was almost trying to convince herself of it. Would she enjoy a rainbow after the storm? Was there hope for her marriage, and her future at Willow Grange? She certainly hoped so.
“I’ve never seen a rainbow after the storm, the bloom after the gloom,” Philip went on.
“What a very dark thing to say.”
“Well, I suppose that I’m rather a dark fellow,” Philip said, turning to Sophia and gazing into her eyes.
Sophia felt her breath catch in her chest. There was vulnerability there, and also something that she recognised to be longing. Quickly turning away, Sophia could feel her heart pounding in her chest.
“I must go,” she said, getting up from the table.
“Very well.”
“I do hope you have a good day,” she said hastily, exiting the room.
“See you at teatime,” Philip said without a touch of defeat.
***
After Sophia had gone, Philip sat there for some time, looking at the rain. It had all been a lie, of course, about the riding, going into town, and carousing. The weather wasn’t fit for that and, what’s more, he wasn’t much of the carousing type. In fact, some might call his playboy facade to be just that: a facade.
In truth, there was no reason in particular that Philip had to fritter his days away at Willow Grange. In fact, he very much had the option to leave if he so chose. It wasn’t even that he was lacking in funds either. Not only was Philip paid handsomely for his high ranking in the military, he had also been dealing in some business on the side that brought in a handsome income. And so his desire to hang around Willow Grange as a bachelor was entirely of his own choosing, and the reason was because he was looking after the Duke of Clumber.
Deep down, Philip knew that his brother could not be trusted, and it pained him that his father was confined to a chair and on death’s door while Timothy was seeing to the future of the Clumber name. It all seemed like such nonsense, and Philip couldn’t bear to be away and watch it all go to seed.
And so, Philip hung around Willow Grange, appearing as some kind of militaristic fop, but in reality, he was a hawk. He was a watchdog. But he didn’t wish to receive any recognition for that.
Getting up from the table and walking over to the window, Philip could see that Sophia was intrepidly braving the weather to go out into the garden. She held a rather large umbrella aloft and was holding in her hands what seemed like a floor plan for the new garden. She was dictating notes to several gardeners as she did so.
Philip leaned his elbow on the windowpane and continued to watch her. Yes, he had to admit that he greatly looked for
ward to their breakfast encounters. He’d progressively pulled his chair closer and closer to hers each morning, so as to be as unnerving as possible. He would wake up in the morning and anticipate stealing her food, delighting in the look of dismay on her pretty face.
Now at first, all of this teasing was merely to give Philip something to do. He enjoyed teasing all females and liked it when they were angry at him. It was innocent when Sophia first came to Willow Grange. In fact, Philip delighted in the notion that he could make his sister-in-law hate him. But something transpired in that past week that Philip was rather confused by. Sophia proved herself to be a woman of keen wit, and Philip thought that was a rarity in women. At first, he was taken aback by it, then he was impressed, and that morning he found himself slightly enamoured.
Of course, such feelings were rather dangerous considering that it was the wife of his brother who was beginning to give him little pangs in his chest. And what’s more, when he pulled his chair beside hers, he could smell her perfume, feel the warmth of her body by his side, and when he leaned in to whisper to her, he could smell her lustrous black hair.
As he watched beautiful Sophia in the garden, being pummelled by the rain, Philip wondered if he had some trouble on his hands. Should his affections for Sophia grow, the Clumber household could have a serious problem. Because Philip always got what he wanted in life and would stop at nothing to do so.
“Good morning,” a muffled voice said.
Philip turned to find Timothy there, wearing the suit he had slept in the night before.
“Looking fine this morning,” Philip said through his clenched jaw.
“I need tea,” Timothy said heavily, seating himself at the head of the table.
“And so you shall have it,” Philip replied, still standing by the window. He turned to look out at Sophia, then back to his brother as Timothy leaned his elbow on the table and put a hand to his forehead. Then Philip looked out at Sophia once more and back to his pathetic brother. It didn’t add up. What had Timothy done to deserve the Clumber title and that beautiful wife at the same time?
“There we are then,” Timothy said, tea being poured in front of him.
“Perhaps you should try not drinking the entire liquor cabinet one of these days,” Philip said humorously.
“My affairs are none of your business.”
“None of my business?”
“Indeed. Why don’t you go into town and visit a brothel? Send Daddy the bill,” Lord Timothy said between his teeth.
The sound of water drip-dripping caused Philip to turned and see that Sophia had quietly entered the dining room. There were drops of rain flowing from her skirts.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Sophia said softly.
“Do come in. Brother and I were just having a chat,” Timothy said.
“Apparently,” Sophia replied.
She sat herself at the table whilst a servant brought her a warm towel to dry herself. She wished to discuss household matters with Timothy and thought that if she didn’t catch him while he was taking his tea, she may never see him again that day.
Philip wondered if Sophia had overheard the brothel comment that sprung from Timothy’s lips. Did Philip want for her to think him a playboy as well? Part of him almost wished that Sophia knew the truth about him, but it was too soon for all that.
“I have an idea for a series of fountains,” Sophia said to Timothy, who merely nodded his head up and down as though by automation. “They will depict famous figures in Greek mythology.”
“Will they be in the nude?” Philip asked, and both Sophia and Timothy turned towards him.
“Well,” Sophia said, a slight flush coming to her cheeks. “Most Greek mythological statues are.”
“Then I approve,” Philip said, and hastily removed himself from the room.
***
“Such an odd fellow, your brother,” Sophia said, knitting her brow.
“A wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Timothy replied, dousing his eggs in cream and taking a hearty bite. After he did so, rather a large amount of cream clung to the side of his mouth.
“You have –” Sophia began, leaning in to remove the cream from his lips.
“What?” Timothy asked, pulling away from her as she did so. Sophia decided to give up on the notion of touching him and instead pointed to the side of her mouth to indicate that he should do the same. He brought his napkin up to his lips and removed the cream.
“Do you not like it?”
“Not like what?” Timothy asked.
“When I . . . touch you?”
Sophia felt incredibly vulnerable bringing up the subject, but the subject had to be broached at some time. She felt a sting in her breast as she awaited his response.
“Of course, I do,” he replied, his eyes softening.
“Do you wish to touch me?”
Timothy went silent, and from what Sophia could tell, he was at a loss for words.
“Do you mind if we don’t discuss this at the breakfast table?” Timothy said with compunction in his voice.
“Yes, that is fine,” Sophia replied. But if not now, husband, then when?
The breakfast conversation continued and arrangements were made to have a dream garden erected at Willow Grange. Even if Sophia wasn’t successful in the wedding bed, at least she had somewhere to place her energies so that she would not go completely insane.
Sophia walked around Willow Grange, looking for other things she could amend. It was her money, after all, that was going into the renovations. Sophia figured she might as well use it to make herself happy.
Every so often, she would pass Philip in the hall. The breakfast encounters continued, and more verbal sparring ensued. They were also taking tea together in the afternoons, and occasionally they’d even go for a stroll in the garden as Sophia explained which naked Greek god was going to be placed where.
Although Philip was still a playboy in her estimation, Sophia had to admit that the level of heat between them was rising. When he got particularly close, Sophia could feel herself perspiring. She knew she was in deep trouble one morning when she awoke in her bed – naturally, by herself – and had a fantasy about Philip lying beside her, his naked body smooth and chiselled, his white skin shining in the morning light. She imagined their bodies entangled in one another’s, the feeling of his lips, the grasp of his hands.
It was on that morning that Sophia knew that her situation had become dire. That exasperating fellow that made her smile and cringe at breakfast was beginning to infiltrate her imagination.
Chapter 7
Sophia was getting up earlier and earlier in the morning, because she was excited to work on the garden, improve Willow Grange, and also to see Philip. She noticed that he himself was an early riser and chalked it up to his soldier-like nature. What she didn’t realise that he, as well, looked forward to seeing her.
“Oh, God,” Philip said one morning as she entered the dining room. His sarcasm warmed her.
“You look tired,” she said in return, returning the playful barb.
“I did not sleep well.”
Sophia seated herself beside him, something that was of necessity. If she were to seat herself across the table, Philip would find a way to move towards her. She wished to save him the trip and therefore sat where he was near.
She delighted in the physical proximity. The sensations that Philip’s presence made her feel were growing more and more intense with each passing day. She had still not shared the same bed with her husband, but the grief was not as biting as it had been during her first week at Willow Grange. Although she could not say that she was happy in the least.