by Lily George
The butler returned with a respectful bow. “His lordship will be with you directly. May I bring you some refreshment?”
“No, thank you. I shan’t be here long.”
“Very good, Lieutenant.” The butler closed the door with a gentle click.
Charlie stood with his hand resting on a small marble statue of a faun, one that probably cost more than the veterans of Bath would ever see in their lifetimes. Strange, the difference between the wealthy and the poor. This small object d’art, which probably escaped his lordship’s attention on a daily basis, would feed and clothe a family of four for a year.
Bradbury opened the parlor door, breaking into Charlie’s reverie. “Cantrill? To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Charlie bowed. “I’ve come to offer my thanks to you.”
“Thanks to me?” His lordship arched an eyebrow. “Are you jesting?”
“No. Merely trying to right several wrongs. And I began this journey as a result of our conversation at the Club.”
Lord Bradbury’s lips twisted together in a bemused grin. “Very well. You are welcome. Does this have anything to do with Sophie?”
“Yes. It has everything to do with her. I cannot win her back until I affect some very personal changes in my life. Forgiving others. Letting go of bitterness. That sort of thing.” He didn’t really like the way Lord Bradbury looked at him, as though he were enjoying some amusement at Charlie’s expense. But he was here on a mission and must complete it, no matter how humbling it seemed.
“I see,” his lordship replied. Seeing that Charlie hadn’t moved, he headed toward the door. “Are we done?”
“Not quite. I wish to beg a favor of you.”
“You do?” His lordship broke into a wide, almost feral grin. “And what might that be?”
“You know of Sophie’s connections with the Handley family, do you not? How they slighted her poor mother, and how they cut those two young women—Sophie and her sister, Harriet—off without a penny? Seems rather unsporting of them, doesn’t it?”
“It does. But then, the Handleys are an old family. Very proud. I am sure when Sir Hugh married an actress, it sent his family into apoplexies.”
“It is still unsporting of them, I think. To visit their revenge on his innocent children,” Charlie replied with a shrug. “Therefore, I want you to put a stop to it.”
Bradbury gave an incredulous snort. “You want me to stop it? How, pray tell?”
“This is precisely why I came to you.” Charlie kept his tone even and friendly. “You see, I have few of the connections to the wealthy and powerful that you have. You can block certain measures in the House of Lords, for example. Measures that could benefit the Handley family back in Liverpool. You can put the kind of social pressure on them that would make it very unlikely they would be received in some of the best homes in London and Bath. That sort of thing.”
“You want me to blackmail and extort from the Handley clan?” Bradbury chuckled, shaking his head. “I never would have expected that from you, Cantrill.”
“Let us be clear—I am not asking you to do anything untoward or illegal,” Charlie responded. “But I am asking you to exert a similar kind of pressure on the Handleys that they used on Sir Hugh’s daughters, until they relent and stop saying infamous things about Sophie and her family.”
“Tit for tat. Interesting. Again, I would not expect that from you, Cantrill. I assumed you were a turn the other cheek sort of man.”
“I am. That’s why I ask you to undertake this for me.”
Bradbury threw back his head and laughed, an honest, uproarious sound that echoed through the elegantly appointed parlor. “Tell you what,” he replied. “I’ll do it. One, out of thankfulness for all Sophie did for my daughters. And two, because I still, in my heart, carry a strong fondness for young Sophie. And three—” his lordship strode toward the door, placing his hand on the knob “—because it amuses me. Who knew you could be so devious, Cantrill?”
“Not devious.” He walked over toward the door, standing face-to-face with his lordship. “But as a soldier, I must be a good tactician.”
Bradbury laughed again, an appreciative chuckle, and ushered Charlie through the vestibule to the front door. “By Jove, Cantrill, what an entertaining plan. I wish you the best of luck with it. What shall you do next?”
“I leave for Brightgate on the morrow,” he replied, stepping out onto the porch. “One last matter to attend to before I strike out for Tansley.”
Bradbury nodded, a knowing light sparking his eyes. “I wish you the best of luck. Tell me, if I am able to pull off my part of the plan, may I dance at your wedding?”
Cantrill acknowledged the joke with a tight smile. “You shall. If the lady will have me.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
This last visit was, in some ways, harder than the others. After all, Robert and Mother were his family. Despite their faults, he loved them both. And he hated to call them up on the carpet. But it must be done. It was the only way he could finish his journey to forgiveness and pave the way for his marriage to Sophie. If she would even speak to him.
The unremarkable carriage he had hired for his travels drew to a shaky stop before the Cantrill home. Smug, self-satisfied—those were the words that came to mind as he viewed his family home from the curbstone. But even so, it was still capable of providing shelter and comfort. Just like his family.
“You can take the carriage around to the back, Browning, and then apply to the kitchens for some refreshment,” Charlie directed. With a respectful tip of his hat, the coachman circled the horses around toward the back of the property. Charlie strode up the drive, his boots crunching on gravel. The place looked deserted. Surely Mother and Robert hadn’t gone out of town. That would foil his plans royally.
He knocked thrice upon the door, and Jones, the family butler, answered. Charlie liked Jones. He was the only servant who had stayed on with his mother through the years. Every other servant left after a matter of weeks. In fact, it was not at all unusual for the entire staff to leave as a body, with only Jones remaining to help run the Cantrill home.
“Master Charles? We had no idea you were coming. Madam is paying her calls this morning. But she intends to return before luncheon.”
Charlie handed his gloves and hat to Jones. “Not to worry, Jones. I didn’t tell anyone I was on my way. Is Robert here?”
Jones nodded. “The master is in his study.”
“Thank you. When Mother comes home, tell her to find us there, will you?”
“Of course, sir.”
Charlie hastened up the stairs, clenching his fists in anticipation. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation. But he refused to lose his temper. Nothing would stand in the way of forgiveness—and because of forgiveness, his darling Sophie.
“What ho, Robert? May I come in?” Charlie strode in without knocking.
His brother looked up from his ledger, his eyebrows drawn together in wary puzzlement. “Charlie? To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’ve come to talk to you. Brother to brother.”
Robert closed the ledger and leaned back in his chair. “Indeed? Does this have anything to do with our last discussion and your hasty flight from Brightgate?”
Charlie nodded pleasantly. “It does.”
“Well, then. Do go on.” Robert heaved the put-upon sigh of the elder brother.
Charlie took a deep breath. He would not be needled by Robert’s air of superiority. Although he could best his brother at fisticuffs, even with one arm missing, violence would serve no purpose.
“I’ve come to tell you that I am going to marry Sophie, no matter what your objections may be. She is a virtuous, kind and gentle woman and I am lucky to have found her.” There. Now let the fireworks begin.
Robert pursed his lips together. “She’s a fortune hunter.”
“She is not. She pawned that diamond bracelet to give to the widows’ fund in Bath.”
Robert cr
owed with laughter. “And you believe that tale? Really, Charlie. Have some sense.”
“Not only did I take her at her word, but the funds were deposited with the express intention of clothing all the women and children of the veterans’ fund. I’ve got the money, Robert. It was no mere ruse.”
Robert shrugged. “No doubt she has other ill-gotten goods.”
“I don’t think so,” Charlie replied evenly. “She’s gone home to her sister in Tansley. But if you are worried about it, then you can cut me off. I would rather have not a single farthing than live without Sophie.”
Robert sat quietly, considering his brother for a few moments. “I am tempted to call your bluff, brother.”
“It’s no bluff. My work with the veterans’ fund has taught me one thing—that happiness cannot be bought. Many of those men and women are poor as church mice, and still love each other more than life itself. And many rub along just fine without any money. I would find an occupation and provide for my wife with my own hand.”
The door opened and Mother came flying in. “Charles, what is this? Why did you come all this way and not tell us you were arriving? It is most unusual.”
“He’s come to tell us he will be married to Sophie despite everything,” Robert interrupted. “Why, Mother, he even intends...to be poor.” He drew the statement out dramatically.
“Oh, Charles, do be sensible.” Mother removed her bonnet and pelisse, casting them onto a nearby chair. “Your uncle Arthur was prepared to give you everything should you wed someone...anyone. How could you cast that aside for some romantic notion?”
“I am being sensible. If you have strong objections to my chosen path, then I must sever my ties if I am to marry Sophie. And if Robert is afraid of our fortune, then I can only protect our family by foregoing my income.” There, that was as plain and levelheaded as he could explain it.
Mother raised her hand. “Stop it, both of you. No one is taking anyone’s fortune, and no one is going to go poor as a result of this. Robert, I must say, I am most unhappy with the way you have handled matters. You should have come to me first. Remember that Sophie Handley is Sir Hugh Handley’s daughter. That family connection alone can prove most valuable to us.”
“None of the family will acknowledge them,” Robert retorted. “Remember, Mother, that I am the head of this household.” His face was turning an ugly, mottled shade of purple.
“Ah, but the Handleys will acknowledge Sophie.” Charlie couldn’t resist giving his brother a triumphant smile. “I spoke to Lord Bradbury before I came here. He has agreed to exert his influence to heal the breach within the family. So I am sure that the Handleys will, in time, come to recognize both Miss Sophie and Mrs. Brookes as part of their clan.”
“There now. You see?” Mother cast her bonnet and pelisse aside and sank into the chair.
“I don’t believe it.” Robert shook his head. “Why would Bradbury do such a thing?”
“He’s grateful to Sophie for guiding Miss Amelia through her first Season. So, in payment for her innate social skills, Bradbury is helping her to regain her place in Society.” Charlie gave an elaborate shrug, keeping his expression placid. “Seems most kind of him to me.”
“And to me, as well,” Mother added. “Now, as to this little matter of Charles’s income, I must state emphatically that no son of mine will live in poverty.” Charlie opened his mouth to interrupt, but Mother overrode his objection with a curt wave of her hand. “No, indeed. I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
“What of my work with the veterans? I will not stop working with them, Mother. It is my calling.”
“You see?” Robert slapped his hand on his desk for emphasis. “He is deliberately trying to make this family into a laughingstock. I will not stand for it. I told Sophie as much.”
“I am doing no such thing.” Despite his best efforts, his temper was rising. “When I lay in the farmhouse at La Sainte Haye, I thought I was dying. I prayed to God that if he let me live, I would live in a manner that honors Him.” Charlie took a deep, shuddering breath. It was difficult indeed to talk about those moments, especially to an audience that wasn’t exactly sympathetic. “My brothers in arms carried me off the field and to the safety of that house, where I lay bleeding for hours. Had they not disobeyed their orders, and left me on the field, I would have died that day. I owe the men of Waterloo my very life. Surely you would not have me turn my back on them?”
Mother turned to him, her gaze misted with tears. She withdrew a handkerchief from her bodice and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “My dear boy,” she murmured. “Of course I would not have you turn your back on your fellow comrades. But can’t we meet in the middle? Could you continue to work with the veterans and yet live in the manner to which we are accustomed?”
“I will not live in luxury while others suffer.” It was as simple as that.
“But, Charles,” Mother pleaded, dabbing at her eyes again. “Think carefully. You must be able to support a wife and family. You must allow your children to receive a good education, and have decent shelter, clothing and food. While I understand your wishes, surely you see where I am coming from.”
He glanced over at Robert, who was—for once in his life—completely and utterly silent. His brother was merely running his thumbnail back and forth over the binding of his ledger. Mother pressed her handkerchief to her lips and said nothing more. Charlie sighed. Was there a way to preserve his integrity and still give his family a comfortable life?
“If I gave up my home in Bath,” he began, and then paused.
“Yes?” Mother’s tone was hopeful—cheerful, even.
“We would settle where Sophie chooses. Assuming she will even have me after the way my family has treated her.”
“Of course.” Mother smiled brightly. “Sophie has infinitely good taste. I am sure she will choose something quite stylish.”
Stylish? Already he was regretting this compromise. “We will let the lady decide, Mother,” he said, a thread of warning running through his voice. “And you, Robert? What say you on the matter?”
“I never knew you almost died,” Robert said in a husky tone. His brother’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down a few times as he tried to go on. “I mean, I knew you were gravely injured. After all, you lost your arm. I suppose I just never really thought about all you went through. My apologies, brother.” Robert turned away from them both. “If you marry Sophie, you will have no objections from me.”
Charlie smiled with relief. The long struggle was over. “I forgive you, if you forgive me. In fact, I owe both you and Mother an apology. I have been so blinded by my mission that I haven’t taken the time or the effort to explain myself to you. Nor have I been willing, until now, to seek a compromise between our disparate ways of living.”
“Oh, my boys, how good it is to hear you both so willing to forgive and forget. Now, Charlie, when are you going to seek Sophie’s hand? After all, there is much planning to do. The gown, the wedding supper, the trousseau—surely I must talk to the bride soon.”
As she spoke, Charlie’s heart hardened in the same way it always had, shutting out her voice and her words. Then he caught his brother’s glance across the desk. Robert was staring at Mother, a bemused expression on his face. As their glances caught, Robert chuckled. Charlie couldn’t resist joining him. They laughed as they had in the old days, when they were young lads catching frogs in the creek bed, before Society and position and rules had dictated their days.
Their laughter broke down the last bit of a wall around Charlie’s heart. He could feel it crash to the ground. That was Mother—always concerned with appearances. And she always would be. Now if he could only make Sophie love them in the way he had learned to—and persuade her to marry into this family.
* * *
It had been a white night. Sophie woke, bathed in sweat and tears, from a nightmare. Charlie was dying in the farmhouse, and no one was there to help him. She sat up in bed, her hands trembling, and
lit a candle from the tinderbox on her bedside table. It was just a dream. No need to cry. Charlie was alive and well, and probably thanking his lucky stars he had extricated himself from a doomed marriage to her.
Her door opened, and Harriet poked her head around the frame. “Sophie, are you all right? I thought I heard you cry out.”
“I had a terrible dream about Charlie.” Sophie patted the soft surface of the bed beside her. “Do you mind sitting up with me for a while?”
“Of course not.” Harriet lowered herself onto the bed cautiously. “I have many more months to go, and yet I get bigger every day. John will have to widen all the doorways for me to fit through.” She pulled Sophie’s head onto her shoulder and patted her back. “There now. It was only a dream.”
“I know.” Sophie wiped the last of the tears away with the back of her hand. “I miss him so, Hattie.”
“I understand.” Harriet continued soothing her, patting her back in a rhythmic motion. “Have you tried to write to him? Or give him any indication of how you feel?”
“No. I was so hateful to him when we were in Brightgate. It was my intention to send him away, and I did. I was cruel, Hattie. Terribly cruel.” Tears spilled down her cheeks anew.
“Surely he understands why you did that. Men can be very acute,” Harriet murmured. “I would not give up hope yet.”
Sophie gave vent to her bottled emotions, crying as she had not done since Mama died. Everything was such a muddle. And the terrible part was, there was no way to repair the damage she had done. Short of driving back to Bath and flinging herself at him, begging forgiveness, there was nothing she could do. And of course, there was the sneaking suspicion that she would never, ever win him back, no matter what she did. Charlie was nothing if not absolute.