by Hilly Mason
“What about your own wife? You are still in mourning, just as much as I am. It is hardly appropriate that we should be talking about this. Do you still mourn her?”
Alex was taken aback by her stark question. What do you think? he wanted to ask her.
“She was distant toward me from the beginning, more so when Annie was born, but I had chose to ignore it, focusing instead on my business in London. Poor woman. I mourn the fact that she felt trapped in this marriage, but I do not mourn the love that was never there. Yet... I do have Annie, so at least something good did happen.”
“Many times a woman feels trapped in marriage, feeling like there’s no way out, and not knowing that they do have options, however small they are,” Sophia said, her head lowered toward her food.
He shook his head, the wound of his daughter’s parentage still felt raw to him. He took a deep breath. “You used to harbor feelings for me. We were supposed to be married to one another.”
“Supposed to?” Sophia repeated, her voice rising. “If we were supposed to, why weren’t we? Why did it not happen? Was it God’s choosing that we went different directions and ended up both brokenhearted in the end?” She shook her head. “I waited for you for so long. I thought that you did not want me, so I changed into a person that I believed you did want.”
“Is that why you started to enjoy the company of Abigail and her friends more than me?”
“Yes. I became just like them didn’t I?” She shook her head slowly.
“I did not know Abigail was going to kiss me. My thoughts were only on you, and when I later heard of the proposal... Christ, Sophia. I didn’t know what else to do but to flee from society, and to marry quickly so as to forget all about you. Sophia, that night... I was planning on proposing to you.”
Sophia’s eyes widened. “You were?”
“Yes, I had it all planned out. I was going to lead you to the fountains in the garden and pick a rose for you. The white ones, as I know those are your favorite. I was going to get down on my knees and ask for your hand. I had rehearsed it a thousand times in my head, and when it didn’t happen, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was angry with you. I thought I was still angry years later when I read your letter demanding Comerford back. But then, when I saw you in my drawing room, I... I don’t know... My feelings changed completely. It was like the four years that passed never happened.”
There were tears in Sophia’s eyes, but she made no bother to wipe them away.
“Are you saying that you are still in love with me?” she whispered.
Stunned, Alex did not say a word.
He noticed the blush rising up her face and prayed it was not anger. She took a sip of her wine.
“I cannot be with you, Lord St. George,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “I do not have the same feelings you do.”
His hands fell to his side and suddenly he felt quite foolish.
“Abigail died because of me,” she added.
“Pardon?”
“Abby she... became ill and died. That is why my aunt and uncle no longer want to see me again. That is why I was forced to work here as a governess. They think I am responsible for her death. I never wanted to marry Lord Gibbs. I was just angry with Abby for kissing you.”
Alex felt the contents of his dinner rise up in his gorge. He took a drink to swallow it back down.
“You are disgusted by me, Alex?”
“Disgusted? Lord, no. Just sad. Sad that your family cast you away like that when you are not to blame.”
“You believe that?” she asked him hopefully.
Alex was torn with the desire to comfort her, and her apparent need to have the table that separated them to act as a barrier.
“Yes, I do.”
She stared at her half-eaten food. “I am going to retire for the night,” she murmured.
“Yes, of course.”
Sophia had been foolish back then—as was Abigail Clarke. Hell, they all had been foolish. Common sense is unheard of among the young. But he could tell that she took the weight of the tragedy all on her shoulders, when it was not hers to bear. The trouble was that he didn’t know how to help her. She wanted space, and he would give it to her.
He watched her leave before continuing his dinner, wishing fervently that she would ask him to follow her up to her bed to comfort her in his arms.
Chapter Fifteen
Sophia closed her bedroom door and slowly sunk down onto the floor. Soot came up to her and rubbed her head against her hand. She pet the cat, but her thoughts were still downstairs in the dining room where she knew Alex now sat in silence, musing over his own thoughts. Her body was tingling and she knew it was not just from the wine. She wanted to run downstairs and be in his arms. Yes, she wanted that ever since she was a girl.
And she said no! Sophia wrapped her arms around her legs and hung her head. She shouldn’t even entertain the thought of becoming his wife when she had already decided never to be with a man again. She glanced over at Mary Darby Robinson’s poetry book, as though the deceased poet now judged her for her intrusive thoughts.
For four years she had formed a story about what happened that night. She had firmly believed that her feelings for Alex were one-sided, that he had been in love with Abby instead.
Damn him for not telling her sooner.
No, she amended. The fault is very much still my own.
And he still wanted to marry her? Well, Alex did not outright say it, but it was hinted at. Perhaps he was more intoxicated than he had led on.
As though sensing her discomfort, Soot pressed her face close to Sophia’s and began licking her nose with her small, rough tongue. Sophia tolerated it for about three seconds before she moved her head away.
“All right, I get it; I’ll stop moping,” she told the cat. Sophia stood up on wobbly legs, exited her room, and marched down to the servants’ hall. A few of the servants eyed her warily as they went about their routine, stepping out of her way like was ridden with la grippe.
Once in the kitchen, she spotted her maid. Joyce looked up from the silverware she was polishing and gave Sophia a smile.
“How was dinner?” she asked, and then noticing the intense look on the other woman’s face, her smile faltered. “What is it?”
“Are you busy?” Sophia asked tightly. Before she had left her room she had thrown her coat on, and now that she had stopped walking she started to button the garment up to her neck. She put on her gloves, hoping that the night wouldn’t be so cold that she would need a muffler.
“Well, I have another set of forks to polish, but I suppose I could finish it at a later time. Where do you plan on going?”
“I only want to go for a walk around the lake.”
Joyce frowned at the window; the thickly paned glass revealed the surrounding countryside blanketed with shadow. “It’s dark out, Sophia. Did Lord St. George approve of this?”
“I do not give a fig of what Lord St. George approves of,” Sophia snapped, with more passion than she wanted to. Joyce gave her a strange look as Sophia cleared her throat. “There is still some daylight left, but we shall bring a lantern to light our way back,” she said more calmly.
“We?”
“Yes, you’re coming with me.”
“So, what did happen during dinner?”
Sophia pursed her lips impatiently. “I’d rather not say when there are perhaps a dozen ears pressed against the walls listening in.” She glared about her. “Although why you are so interested in my life, I cannot begin to understand,” she said loudly to the offenders. She thought she heard some footsteps scamper off in response.
“All right. All right. Let me fetch my coat.”
If there was one thing she realized she loved about the countryside, it was the quietness that allowed her to think clearly, whereas in London, and even Calcutta, her business was also everyone else’s. As the sun set behind the forest of birch, oak, and rowan, the sky lit up into a brilliant orange and red. A few
grouse flew overhead, casting their reflections on the clear water of the lake.
She could understand why Alex spent most of his time in the country rather than the city. She closed her eyes and imagined Alex outside early in the morning, with his shotgun in one hand as he rode his horse through the fields in search for the perfect, plump grouse. With the morning dew dampening his face and his dark hair free to blow in the wind, he would have nobody else to think about, or worry about. It was just him, his steed, and his prey. It was a primal activity, dating back for centuries, when their ancestors relied on the daily hunt to bring in food for their families. Was it that same instinctual habit that caused Alex to feel the need to be out in the wild when food was already plentiful for him? Was it some primal need to come back to the earth, when one is now forced to spend many hours indoors, playing at life like a game of charades because society expected it?
Sophia felt the urge to tear off her slippers and run barefoot through the cold grass.
But it was Joyce who brought her back down from her reverie.
“I do try to tell the servants what a wonderful person you are, but most will not give me the light of day.”
“It is not your duty to try to win them over for me.”
“I know that. It just pains me to have them think so poorly of you.”
“You might just have to get used to it. It is quite impossible to have everyone in the world like you.”
“I suppose so,” Joyce said softly, and they continued to walk in silence, the only sound was the soft crunching of their footsteps, and a tawny owl hooting in the distance. Sophia thought she heard a soft splash in the water near them, perhaps from a toad or a fish coming up for air.
“I believe Lord St. George asked me to marry him tonight, in a strange way.”
Joyce stopped in her tracks. “Are you jesting?” she nearly shrieked with excitement.
“Quiet,” Sophia admonished, glancing about in case one of the servants had a notion to follow them. “And, no, I am not jesting. He admitted as much to me tonight during dinner.”
“Oh, Sophia! I am so happy for you! And little Annie will have a mother again!”
“No, that’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
Suddenly, the countryside seemed far too big and imposing.
“He was going to propose to me the night Lord Gibbs did,” she finally revealed.
“Really?” Joyce gasped.
“I was a fool and accepted Lord Gibbs proposal to seek revenge on Abby. Had I known that Alex was going to propose to me, I would never have done such a thing.”
“I see,” Joyce said thoughtfully. “Well, as my ma would say, what is done is done. But you always have a chance to start over.”
“I had a taste of what marriage is like, and I want none of it again. I want to be my own woman.”
“It is difficult,” Joyce told her. “Unless you are open to more salacious ways of making money. Of course, I would support you if it does come to that!”
“No, it will not come to that,” Sophia replied hastily. “I have had an idea swirling around my mind for a while. I want to open a boarding school for girls, and take out a loan from a bank in London to get started.”
“Hmm... That’s very admirable. I’m sure you know that renting in London is quite expensive, unless you’re thinking about the poorer areas.”
Sophia shrugged. “Granted, I haven’t looked into it too much. I do want to take a trip to London and talk to a banker about my options, and see how much I need to save. I must admit that the countryside is nice, but I do miss the city. I cannot find myself staying here for any longer than what is necessary to get back on my feet.”
But was she just running away from her own feelings? Of course her maid was going to support her in whatever she did—she was the most loyal person that had ever came into her life. However, a part of her still wanted Joyce to reassure her that she was making the right decision, because Sophia sure as hell did not know if she was.
“It’s getting late, Joyce,” Sophia told her. “Let us head back.”
They turned around walked along the path toward Ramsbury. Crickets, welcomed by the somewhat warm evening, serenaded the two women as they walked in a quiet rhythm. Sophia glanced at Ramsbury, noticing the dim light emitting from Alex’s room. Was he in there now, still thinking about what had happened during dinner?
Suddenly, a pair of cold hands gripped both of Sophia’s ankles, and she fell forward onto the stone path. Her palms scraped tiny rocks as her head hit the stones, sending dancing stars across her vision. The lantern dropped from her hands, and as it hit the ground, the candle went out. She heard Joyce screaming her name in the darkness, but Sophia was too frightened to utter a sound. Her attacker was continuing to pull her by her legs, dragging her on the ground. Through her disorientation, she could hear the soft bubbling of the lake, and the shocking coolness of the water against her skin.
No, Sophia thought. No, they will not drown me!
Finally coming back to her senses, she began thrashing wildly and succeeded in kicking her attacker in a soft part of their body, perhaps their stomach. The attacker let out a sharp oomph! and briefly let go of their hold on Sophia. Sophia took that opportunity to pull herself up; her right ankle protested badly with pain, causing her to fall hard on her knees. The attacker took her by her shoulders from behind and dragged her once again toward the water. The water started soak the skirt of her dress like a wick; icy cold and foretelling a wet and watery grave.
They will not drown me!
Sophia turned her head and sank her teeth in the attacker’s arm. She held her grip even when the acrid taste of blood filled her mouth. The attacker cried out in pain—clearly a woman’s voice—and tried to shake her off, releasing her hold on Sophia’s shoulders. Sophia gave her one last kick from behind before she jumped out of the lake.
Clothes dripping, she ran into the bushes and stumbled a few times before she heard Joyce sobbing in the near distance.
“Sophia, is that you?” she asked fearfully when Sophia neared.
“Yes, it is. Hurry now, in case she’s following us.”
“Who?” Joyce asked wildly. “Are you hurt?”
“Yes. But we will worry about that later. Come along.” She took a second to catch her breath. Ramsbury still twinkled in the distance. Sophia prayed that the candles would not be extinguished before they arrived back. She would rather not be trapped in the darkness with the mysterious lake monster.
The pain in Sophia’s right ankle finally caught up to her, and as they hurried down the path she stumbled and fell, her raw hands opening new wounds.
“Sophia, are you all right?” she heard Joyce saying through the ringing in her ears. Sophia pushed herself up with gritted teeth and wrapped her bleeding hands around her sore ankle.
“I seemed to have twisted my ankle.” She grimaced through the pain as she tried to move her foot, causing more stars to cloud her vision.
“Can you walk, or shall I send someone to come get you?” Joyce asked desperately, obviously spooked. “No, no, that is a terrible idea, what if whatever is out there will get you again? I can’t carry you, though.”
“Relax, Joyce,” Sophia told her firmly, although her body shook with fear. “I can get up on my legs if I can use you as support.”
Joyce helped her up and draped Sophia’s arm over her shoulder. They hobbled at a snail’s pace to the house.
“Did you see who did it?” Sophia asked, grimacing with each step she took.
“No, I did not,” Joyce said worriedly. “Do you think whatever it was is still out there?”
“Well, it couldn’t just disappear out of thin air!” Sophia snapped. She then took a deep breath to calm herself. “We need to tell Lord St. George.”
They didn’t need to go far; when they entered Ramsbury, Alex was standing in the foyer. His worried look quickly turned into that of annoyance. However, once he noticed that something was not
quite right, his features softened with concern.
“What happened?”
“We were attacked, milord,” Joyce explained as she settled Sophia onto a chair.
“Good God, Sophia, you are bleeding! And wet!”
“I will be all right.” Now that she was safe within Ramsbury, she finally realized she was shivering from head to toe. Her dress clung uncomfortably to her body and her hair was heavy on her head and neck.
“I will call the physician at once.”
“No,” Sophia said sharply. “There’s no need. All I have are a few bumps and bruises.”
“My lady, you’re bleeding, and you cannot walk!”
“Yes, I know, Joyce. Please, go to my room at once and prepare a hot water basin and some linen to dress my hands.”
“Yes, Sophia.”
Joyce fled upstairs, leaving her alone with Alex.
“I will help you upstairs,” he told her.
“I can walk well enough.” Sophia slowly stood up and pressed the lightest amount of pressure on her foot. Pain jolted up her leg and she fell forward...into Alex’s arms.
He smelled of cloves and brandy. The fabric of his clothes against her skin was soft, and his body was blessedly warm. She could feel his breath moving the hairs on the top of her head.
“Don’t be so proud,” he said softly, but firmly. “You don’t have to do this by yourself. Will you allow me to carry you up to your room?”
“I will get blood all over your clothes.”
“I do not care.”
“Fine,” she said. “But don’t enjoy yourself too much,” she added. Lord, the pain must be getting to her mind.
Alex cocked an eyebrow in response.
“I’ll try not to.” He then lifted her off her feet as though she weighed nothing, and she rested her head wearily against his chest. She was so close to him that she could see his pulse beating against his neck: a quick, strong, steady rhythm. A heated rush went through her body, betraying her protesting mind.
I shouldn’t be enjoying this, she thought. I am my own woman. I don’t need a man.
“Where did you go?” Alex asked as he walked.