by Lucy Langton
“Oh, Arabella, I wouldn’t go that far!” Sophia protested. “I’m not royalty in the slightest.”
“Well, in my estimation you deserve to be,” Arabella said before leaving the room.
Not only did Sophia feel unworthy of being royalty, she wondered if she even deserved to be a duchess at all. The events of that afternoon still clung to her, and Sophia wondered how it was that she was going to proceed with her life, what with Philip being so near.
Chapter 13
Dressed in her lilac gown, Sophia did indeed feel like a princess. Arabella had done her hair with great care, and her jewels perfectly accompanied the gown. She was full of anticipation, as well as a great deal of fear. Timothy sent the invitation up to her chamber, and Sophia read that the tea was being hosted by Lady Hortensia Castle. Sophia did not know much about the lady, but her name was something of legend.
Making her way down the marble staircase, Sophia found that Philip was standing at the bottom, as though he were waiting for her. Sophia felt bashful at first, having never been in front of him whilst she was so dressed. She saw that his eyes went wide with wonder, and it pleased her.
The memory of that kiss would not leave her mind. Indeed, she dreamed of Philip yet again the night before, that he had come to her chambers and undressed her. The dream was so real, Sophia had to get up out of her bed and look from side to side, to check and make sure that he was not there.
“Look at you,” Philip said.
“I fear that I’m overdressed,” Sophia remarked.
“If you’re indeed attending tea at the home of Lady Hortensia Castle, then I believe you might be underdressed.”
“Is that so?” Sophia asked, becoming apprehensive.
“You won’t believe the diamonds and peacock feathers that you’re about to encounter.”
“I wish you could come with me,” Sophia said. It flew out of her mouth before she had the chance to consider her words. But it was true. It would be so comforting to have Philip by her side, giving her courage and making light of the whole situation. She feared that the event would be quite serious.
“You could not pay me to attend,” Philip replied.
“You don’t enjoy a stately tea?” Sophia asked.
“No, I do not enjoy a stuffy, haughty, stately tea.”
“Very well. Wish me luck, because here I go.”
“I wish you luck, for you shall need it,” Philip replied.
Sophia looked up into his imploring eyes and wondered what they were trying to express to her. He seemed fearful for her, and it only made her anxiety grow. There was also that lingering longing that she had seen in his eyes the day before. Yet again she felt as though Philip could see right through her, see the dream that she had had of him, and the longing that she held in her breast.
Sophia made her way out of the front door and towards the carriage, Arabella by her side. Although it would be a ladies’ event, it was still suitable for Sophia to bring a chaperone since her husband did not accompany her. It would be perfectly acceptable for Arabella to wait in the carriage for the entirety of the afternoon.
During the carriage ride to Lady Hortensia Castle’s home, Sophia brought a hand up over her fluttering heart. Arabella spoke calming, reassuring words, but it seemed to make little impact.
It was only a short ride to the townhouse, and when the driver stopped the carriage in front of it, Sophia peeked her head out the window and looked up, amazed by the sheer size and grandeur of the home. It was as though someone had transported a mansion from the countryside and planted it in London. Sophia had never seen anything like it.
Alighting from the carriage by taking the driver’s hand, Sophia took a deep breath. There were a number of carriages pulling up out front, and Philip was not lying when he mentioned the glittering diamonds and peacock feathers. From what she could see, there was a great deal of that. The thing that surprised her the most was the intensity of colour. It was the fashion of the day, Sophia thought, to wear pale hues such as pastels, but from what she could see, jewel tones were all the rage. It was not a fashion that Sophia preferred, but perhaps one that she’d have to embrace with time.
Stepping into the home, Sophia presented her invitation to a footman at the door. This was similar to the protocol at Almack’s, London’s famous society club. There, she was told, one must present their voucher in order to gain entrance.
Everything was a storm of pearls and feathers, ruffles and satin. Jewels glittered, along with the lit candelabras and the crystal chandeliers. Ladies chatted sombrely and dutifully, in stark contrast to the ostentatious way in which they all were dressed. There was an air of tension, and Sophia wondered at it. Was it merely the English way of enduring social events? It all seemed like some sort of stuffy duty, just as Philip had described it to be.
Entering the ballroom, which was massive in size and scope, Sophia was told to present her name to an attendant, who would then escort her to her table. Once there, she found that a little place card stated her name in calligraphy, and that was where she must be seated. Sophia did not know whether or not there was any rhyme or reason to the seating arrangements, but she did know that absolutely no one was engaging in conversation with her, something that perhaps she had expected.
She waited for her table to fill up before turning to the lady at her left and introducing herself.
“Good afternoon,” Sophia said cordially, “I am Lady Sophia, married to Lord Timothy, heir to the Clumber dukedom.”
“Very nice to meet you,” the dour woman said sombrely. “I am Lady Agnes Forrest, wife to Lord John Forest, Earl of Lee.”
“Such a pleasure,” Sophia went on.
One by one, around the table, ladies introduced themselves and a hush came over the table as Lady Hortensia Castle herself entered the dining room, clothed in green ermine.
“Ladies, ladies,” Lady Hortensia said, drawing the attention of the room effortlessly. “Such an honour and a pleasure to have you all here today. Please, converse and dine, and I wish to greet you all individually, if I may.”
There was a gentle, polite applause after that, and as soon as Lady Hortensia ceased to speak, a great parade of servants entered the hall, half of them with hot pots of tea, and the other half with towers of tea delights.
With ten women at each table, there were four towers placed at each. From what Sophia could see, the sweets were on the upper two levels, whilst the savouries were on the lower three. It was a display more impressive in size and scope than Sophia had ever seen. The towers stood so high that it was rather difficult to see the ladies at the other side of the table. The massive flower arrangements only added to the impediment.
And so, Sophia found that her only company would be Lady Agnes to her left, and a woman by the name of Lady Joan to her right. Sophia found that, although these ladies were cordial, they were not friendly. She would even look across the table and see that her fellow diners were gazing at her standoffishly. Sophia expected that she might feel out of place, but thus far, she felt positively ostracised for reasons she could not comprehend.
Sophia had very little appetite, due to the tension. She looked about the room and noticed that ladies from other tables were looking at her as well. What was all the fuss about? Surely, she didn’t have some sort of reputation without even meeting these ladies. There was whispering all around her, and Sophia assumed they were speaking of her. She wasn’t sure if it was her nerves that led her to believe so.
Needing a break from it all, Sophia asked an attendant where she might find the retiring room. Being led down a hall, Sophia passed a sitting room where various ladies seemed to be lounging on plush couches, and Sophia paused when she heard her husband’s name being spoke of, and her own.
“She’s the wife of Lord Timothy,” Sophia heard a voice say.
“You don’t say,” another woman replied.
“It’s true. I like her gown, but the jewels . . . ” a third woman added.
S
ophia brought a hand up to her jewels and wondered what the problem might be.
She leaned against the wall, continuing to listen to their conversation. She knew it was wrong to do so, but Sophia wished to understand why it was that these women seemed so opposed to her.
“You do know of Lord Timothy, do you not?”
“You mean the scandal?”
“That’s what I’m referring to, yes,” the woman went on.
“I thought that was over with.”
“No, no, it’s still going on. How long do you think he’ll be able to keep it from his pretty wife?”
Sophia’s heart began to pound in her chest. What was it that the women were referring to?
“He used to spend all his time with that woman, and I gather that he’s still very much in love with her.”
Sophia was quite certain that they were not referring to her own person. Could it possibly be true, or was it merely gossip? What woman were they speaking of?
“What a scandal to the White family. That woman must be ashamed of herself.”
“It’s Lord Timothy’s fault, as well. She would not have fallen into his arms were it not at his insistence.”
“Most true.”
The White family? Sophia feared that she might be sick. There was no sense in returning to the table to endure the fussiness of Lady Agnes and Lady Joan, and there was absolutely no point in paying her respects to Lady Hortensia. Sophia decided that it was best to leave that very moment, for to endure that tea for one more second would be her undoing.
Sophia walked back down the hall and made her way to the exit, not bothering to announce her departure. When she found her carriage out in the street, Arabella was seated within, working on her sampler.
“We must leave at once,” Sophia said breathlessly.
“Whatever is the matter?” Arabella asked.
“I don’t think I can explain. It’s best that we go.”
Sophia remained silent for the entirety of the ride home. She felt on the verge of tears but wished to hold onto them until she was in her private chambers. What was she to think? Was she really to believe what the ladies had said? It was all too grim to fully consider.
Reaching the Clumber townhouse, Sophia did not stand on ceremony but, rather, rushed to her room. From what she could tell, Timothy was not home and she was glad for it, for Sophia didn’t know what she might say to him were he to confront her. She also wished to avoid running into Philip, whom she loathed to see in that moment as well.
He had warned her, after all. But she had not known what he was referring to. Was that what Philip was trying to express all along? Did he know that Timothy was engaged in an affair, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her?
Sophia threw herself upon her bed and finally allowed the tears to fall. There was so much to consider, if indeed what those women said had been the truth. But deep down, there was also an odd sense of relief. It would explain everything, would it not? Why her husband would not come to her, why Timothy was so distant, why Philip was constantly looking after her.
Within her tears, Sophia felt indignation. She knew her own worth, and certainly she was not worthy of this situation. She deserved a husband who could love her unconditionally and not give any affections to another. What was she to do next? Should Sophia confront her husband? Ask Philip for advice? Should the marriage become null and void and she return to America?
All of it seemed too overwhelming in the moment. There was no action she could take, other than to lie there and weep.
Considering things further, there was something else other than coldness from the ladies at the tea, and Sophia couldn’t perceive it at the time. It was pity. Those women had pitied her, and now Sophia knew why.
Had all of London known of the infidelity before Sophia even arrived on British soil? Was it why Timothy had waited so long to introduce her to London society?
Yes, she must confront her husband. There was no way to endure the situation in silence. But it could not be undertaken on that day. In fact, there was a very good chance that Timothy was with the White woman at that very moment.
***
At Surrey Highland, Lord Timothy was consumed with happiness and longing. Lady Helena sat across the table from him, eating a cucumber sandwich and drinking her Earl Grey tea. She looked radiant, as always, and every once in a while she’d look up at him and smile.
Where Sophia’s beauty was dark and mysterious, Lady Helena’s was light and airy. Timothy, although he favoured Lady Helena, did not know which was more beautiful. It was like having to choose between two flavours of ice cream. At that moment in his life, he was opting for vanilla.
“I’m glad we could finally meet,” Timothy said.
“You do realise I had to turn down an invitation from Lady Hortensia Castle to be here.”
“I’m honoured that you did so,” Timothy replied, thinking that the arrangement had worked out perfectly. The seat that he secured for his wife was probably the seat that Lady Helena would have been placed in.
“There’s so much to say,” Lady Helena went on.
“Perhaps we should have met in private,” Timothy said, looking around Surrey Highland. It was all dark oak and heavy, burgundy upholstery. There was a reason why it was his favourite place to meet – it was dim, quiet and secretive.
“This was the ideal location. It would have been much worse had we met at your home, or at mine.”
“You look lovely,” Timothy said.
“I thank you,” Lady Helena replied.
“I regret how long it took us to meet,” Timothy said, thinking of all the marvellous things they could have done in that week before his wife arrived.
“Please understand how difficult it is. Lord Clifford demands my presence all the time,” Lady Helena explained.
“I wish to do the same.”
“I do desire to be with you, every chance that I can. But I underestimated the great challenge that it poses.”
“Helena, what are we to do?” he asked, feeling desperate. He couldn’t go on like this much longer. Thoughts of Lady Helena plagued his every waking breath. In fact, most days he felt that he could scarce breathe at all.
“There is no remedy, my love,” Lady Helena replied.
Timothy delighted in the fact that she had called him her love. He wished to hear it over and over again coming from her lips.
“There is a remedy, I assure you.”
“What is that?” Lady Helena asked.
“Be mine. We’ll run away together!”
“Timothy, get a hold of yourself. The notion is nonsense.”
“It is not.”
“Lord Clifford would challenge you to a duel.”
“So be it. I will kill for your love,” Timothy replied with great ardour.
“I would not be able to witness it. I would die,” Lady Helena said with a flourish.
“I would also die, for your love.”
“What of your wife?” Lady Helena asked desperately.
“I feel terrible for her, that much is certain. But if I need to tell her the truth, then I shall. If you give me but a word of reassurance, I’ll endure a duel and send my wife back to America to be with you.”
“Oh, Timothy, this is too much,” Lady Helena said in hushed tones.