Sophia's Gamble

by Hilly Mason

  Isabel.

  “What is it that you want?” Sophia asked. “Do you want me to apologize? I am sorry for how I acted, Abby. I really am. But it doesn’t have to come to this.”

  “I want you to drink the poison, Sophia. Only then will I release the girl to her father and accept your lackluster apology.” The unsteady grin that spread across her face very much reflected the unsteadiness of her mind.

  “Who do you think you are?” Alex demanded.

  “Ah, not so hasty, Lord St. George,” Abby said. She took another step back, the knife shaking in her hands.

  Sophia shot a glance in Alex’s direction, silently warning him not to move. Abby was acting like an angry animal trapped in a corner, and they needed to be careful.

  “Drink it,” Abby said to her. “You ruined my life, so it is only fair that I ruin yours.”

  “Abby, you’re cold, and tired, and probably hungry. Why don’t we come inside so I can set up a warm bath for you, and afterward you can have some dinner? Doesn’t that sound good?”

  For a moment she thought Abby was going to relent as there was such desperate weariness in her eyes. However, her grip tightened around the girl. Annie’s eyes widened with terror.

  “Not going to happen.” Abby said firmly.

  Sophia pursed her lips. “You will free Annie if I drink the poison?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hand it to me, then.”

  “Sophia,” Alex said warningly.

  “Hush, Alex,” Sophia said. “This is the only way.” Trust me, she pleaded with him silently. To whoever was listening above, she prayed that the little vial of liquid didn’t contain anything lethal. But if it did, and if it saved Annie’s life... well, then it would all be worth it.

  She took the vial from Abby’s outstretched hand, removed the stopper, and quickly drank its contents. The thick liquid coated her throat and tasted foul, but she managed to keep it down. Faintly, she heard Joyce shrieking and Alex calling her name.

  Yet, despite the horrible taste, she felt nothing.

  Well, she might as well play the part while Abby still had Annie. Sophia finished the last drop and collapsed to her knees, groaning theatrically. She glanced up to see Abby let go of Annie, who then ran straight into Alex’s arms. Alex scooped her up and hugged her fiercely before handing her to Joyce.

  “Joyce, take Annie to her room at once.”

  “Yes, milord.”

  Meanwhile, Abby was grinning madly at Sophia. “You actually did it!” she said gleefully. “You actually took the poison! You’re dead, Sophia. You’re dead. It’s what I always wanted. It’s a birthday wish come true!”

  Sophia was aware of two things. One: that Abby’s birthday was in November, not May, confirming the fact that Abby was raving mad. And two: Alex was stalking behind the oblivious woman, his pistol in his hand.

  Dear Lord, was he going to shoot her?

  Abby didn’t notice the movement behind her until it was too late: Alex came down hard with the butt of his pistol right on the top of her head. Abby’s legs crumpled and she hit the ground, unconscious.

  “You piece of filth,” Alex said darkly to the woman. “You’re lucky I had mercy on you.”

  He then quickly went over to Sophia and knelt down beside her.

  “Dear God, Sophia. I’ll... I’ll get a physician. Damn it all. Where’s Diana?”

  “I think I will be all right, Alex,” she reassured him. “I don’t believe it was poison.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She mentioned that Isabel had tried to poison me here at Ramsbury...” Sophia shrugged sheepishly. “Well, I found the vial in the kitchen and took it to an apothecary in London to identify it. She told me it wasn’t poison, but something made to look and taste as though it were the real thing.”

  “And such is the case with the vial you just drank?”

  “Well, I’m hoping so.”

  Alex cursed, and ran his hands through his messy hair.

  “I had to save Annie’s life,” Sophia explained, “whether it was poison or not.”

  Alex shook his head, glanced heavenward, and then took Sophia’s hands in his. “Thank you,” he told her, his head now lowered, only a few inches from her own, forcing her to gaze directly into his dark eyes. “Thank you for doing this.”

  Footsteps approached them. Alex took a few steps away from Sophia as his sister appeared.

  “Where were you?” he demanded.

  “I called on the constable,” Diana told him. Her hair was windblown and she was out of breath. “I took a horse from the stables to ride over there. The constable should be here at any minute.”

  Tensioned eased from Alex’s eyebrows as the constable’s coach rounded the corner toward Ramsbury.

  “Good,” Sophia said. “Hopefully now she won’t escape.” However, when the constable bound Abby’s wrists in fetters and carried her small, unconscious form away, she felt a twinge of sadness.

  “I wish it had been different,” she said, more to herself than anyone standing nearby. “But I suppose wishing for that kind of thing is pointless. Nothing can change what happened. You just move on from it the best way you can.”

  Alex said nothing, but the hand that held hers was comfort enough.

  After entering into the main hall in Ramsbury, a sudden sickening pain grabbed the pit of Sophia’s belly and twisted mercilessly. She gasped and doubled over, her knees hitting the marbled ground hard.

  “Sophia!” Alex was next to her immediately. “Sophia, what’s wrong?”

  “I feel ill,” was all she could muster to say. In truth, it felt like a hand had reached inside her stomach was clenching onto her tightly.

  “Bartholomew!” Alex called out sharply to the Widley footman who had driven them to Ramsbury. “Take Lady Gibbs into her bedroom to rest. I’m leaving for the physician.”

  “Yes, m’lord.”

  “Sophia,” Alex said, kissing the top of her head. “Just hold on a moment longer.”

  The driver lifted Sophia up and carried her upstairs to her bedroom. Once Sophia was in bed, she was vaguely aware of Joyce’s presence.

  “Leave me,” Sophia ordered Bartholomew, who stood pale by the door. Once he closed the door she turned to her maid.

  “Joyce, hand over the chamber pot, immediately,”

  She forced herself to vomit into the basin and then groaned at the resulting headache.

  “You’ll get through it,” Joyce said, although by the look on her face she didn’t seem so sure of it. “You are strong, Sophia.”

  She certainly did not feel strong. Stars were dancing about her eyes, and in the corner of her vision a dark curtain was beginning to spread. Dizzy, she sank back into her pillows.

  She might have been mistaken; she may have actually consumed poison. But Annie was alive. Annie was safe.

  That was all that mattered.

  Alex rode his stallion swiftly down the road west toward Chertsey.

  What a downright fool Sophia was—a fool, and a savior. Without her Annie could have been murdered right in front of his eyes.

  The proximity of such a situation still sat heavily in his stomach. He had to repeat to himself over and over: Annie is fine. Annie is fine. She is warm under her covers at Ramsbury. She is fine.

  But what about Sophia?

  It took him far too long to reach Chertsey. It was still early, but the roads were starting to fill with the usual morning crowd, and he had to dodge humans and animals alike until he finally reached the road that led to the physician’s house.

  The last time he had traveled to the physician was to alert him to Lydia’s demised state during her labor. The midwife had all but given up, saying that she was on her deathbed. Refusing to take that as an answer, he had journeyed to Mr. Johnson, who, upon looking at Lydia’s grave face, diagnosed the same fate.

  He prayed the same thing wouldn’t happen to him again.

  Once at his house, Alex jumped off his horse and rapped
on Mr. Johnson’s door. The physician opened the door slowly, revealing his sleepy face and wrinkled nightclothes, his night cap still snug on his head.

  “What on earth is going on here?” he asked groggily. “Lord St. George?”

  “I need your help. Sophia. She’s... I’ve...”

  “Who?” Mr. Johnson demanded.

  “My... she’s... Lady Gibbs. She’s ill. Poison, I believe. She needs your help. Please.”

  “Your governess? Again? All right. All right. Let me get my horse saddled.”

  Alex swore softly. “There’s no time for that! Get your medicine box and mount my horse. I’ll follow after you!”

  The physician said something about the finer aspects of dealing with a baron as he went to fetch his box. Alex made it a point to remember to throttle the man after he saved Sophia.

  And he will save her.

  Mr. Johnson was now dressed in his trousers and shirt but still had forgotten to take off his night cap as he mounted Alex’s stallion and took off into the early morning.

  Alex followed him on foot. He wiped his damp, sweaty hair from his forehead as he approached his estate. He still only had his thin linen shirt on, as well as his trousers, but even then, it felt far too much. He felt the urge to just dive into Ramsbury Lake, and feel the cool water wash away the sticky sweat that had accumulated on his body ever since he had left London.

  But he had to see his daughter and Sophia first. Once in Ramsbury, he went upstairs and slowly opened the door to Annie’s room. To his relief, Annie was peacefully asleep in her bed, a thumb in her mouth, and her dolly nestled in the curve of her arm.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered to the sleeping girl. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you when you needed me.” Alex had been too confident that Ramsbury had been a safe place for his family, and his confidence had almost cost him his daughter’s life. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he closed the door quietly.

  As he walked up the stairs to Sophia’s room, he feared what he was about to see. Cold dread seized his heart.

  The physician stepped out of her bedroom just as Alex walked up to the door. At some point Mr. Johnson must have realized that he was still wearing his night cap, for it was now nowhere to be seen. He was holding the vial of poison in his hand, studying it closely.

  “What is it?”

  “Well,” the physician said. “Someone thought it would be a funny prank to make a concoction of buckthorn and slippery elm and call it poisonous.”

  “What are you going on about? Will Sophia be all right?”

  “Lady Gibbs should be fine. She just has a bit of bowel trouble at the moment. It might take her a few days to recover completely.” Mr. Johnson waved the empty vial between two fingers. “It’s not poison. I’ve heard of hooligans wandering these parts selling snake oil to people with bad intentions.” He shook his head. “Was Lady Gibbs trying to kill herself?”

  “Of course not!” Alex said loudly.

  “I see.” The man shrugged. “Well, I just need you to sign these receipts and I will be on my way.”

  “Fine,” Alex said impatiently as he scribbled his signature onto the pieces of paper the physician handed him.

  She was going to live.

  Once his business with Mr. Johnson was finished, Alex barged through the bedroom door, but a shriek and a shove made him fall over backward. The bedroom door slammed shut.

  “What the devil?” he called out. “Let me in!”

  “No!” It was Joyce’s voice who called out to him. “Lady Gibbs is ill-disposed at the moment.”

  Alex bit down a curse. “Very well,” he called out through gritted teeth. He stomped down into his study and attempted to do some paperwork over a few glasses of brandy, but that failed to be fruitful and he ended up falling asleep at his desk instead.

  It was sometime in the afternoon when he awoke to Joyce calling out his name.

  “What is it?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

  “You can see her now, if you like,” the maid told him. “She is sleeping, so please be quiet.”

  A few minutes later, he walked quietly into Sophia’s room and gazed at her sleeping form. Her dark lashes grazed her flushed cheeks, and her sensuous pink lips were slightly parted. Her hair looked as though it had been recently combed; the long curls draped across the pillows like a blanket. Alex couldn’t help but remember how she looked with him over her, her bare body glistening in the candlelight as he made love to her.

  Had that only been last night? Alex pulled up a chair and sat beside her. As he took her hands in his, her eyes flickered open.

  “Alex,” she whispered, a ghost of a smile tugging her lips.

  “Are you feeling better?”

  “I... I think so.”

  “The physician said that it wasn’t poison.”

  “I know. Although, I was worried for a bit that I had been wrong…”

  Alex shook his head. “Sophia, you took that chance. You saved Annie’s life. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you.”

  “I wouldn’t allow it to be any other way. She’s not hurt, is she?”

  “Annie will be fine.”

  Sophia let out a deep sigh. “Abby, she’s...” she closed her eyes, but not before a tear escaped and trailed down her cheek.

  “Sophia, it’s not your fault,” he told her as his finger gently brushed the tear away.

  Her face quickly paled. She glanced over at Joyce, who was standing nearby, at the ready.

  “Sick,” Sophia whispered hoarsely.

  And suddenly Alex was pushed up onto his feet and ushered out the door. “Out you go,” Joyce said, and then closed the door in his face.

  Sophia surprised him by coming down to breakfast the next morning. She wore a simple day gown that he hadn’t seen before, possibly being one of Diana’s garments, and her face glowed healthily.

  Concealing his surprise, Alex nodded to her as she took her seat.

  “You look like you’ve recovered.”

  Sophia smiled at him. “Yes, thank God. I will save you the details, but slippery elm and buckthorn do not mix well together.” She snorted with laughter and took a sip of water.

  “Thank you for sparing me.” Alex glanced outside the window. The servants were attending to the kitchen garden, and Annie and Diana were nearby, picking daisies from the grass.

  “Are they not joining us for breakfast, then?” he asked.

  Sophia shook her head. “I wanted to talk to you about a private matter,” she said, and then smiled thankfully as a servant lowered her breakfast of poached eggs and ham onto the table.

  “This is the first time in long while that I’ve had an appetite,” she remarked, bringing her fork to her mouth. She chewed, swallowed, and looked a bit pale, but persevered. “I suspect I’m still recovering,” she surmised.

  “Take as much time as you need.”

  They ate in companionable silence. At one point Joyce opened the window, letting the fresh spring air in. For a brief moment, it seemed like they were back to being children again— comfortable in each other’s presence without feeling the need to fill the silence with unnecessary words. He couldn’t help but notice the ticking of the nearby grandfather clock, counting down the time until Sophia would leave him for London. Of course, he would never stop her from doing so, no matter how much it hurt him to let her go.

  Sophia took a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly.

  “Alex. I plan to sell Comerford House.”

  He blinked at her slowly as he processed her words. “Will anything ever come out of your mouth that won’t come as a complete shock?” Alex said wryly, shaking his head. “Why would you do that, after all that has happened?”

  “Well, I do want to start a boarding school, but not in the city. When I was in London, I realize how much I’ve grown to detest being in the city. And Comerford...” she shook her head. “Comerford does not hold the magic it once used to. It holds too much of my unhappy past. I was thinking that I
could use the money from selling Comerford to remodel that abandoned building that sits at the entrance to your estate.” She looked at him shyly. “That is, if you are willing to sell it to me...”

  Well, at least she wouldn’t be too far away.

  “I... I suppose that would work out,” he said to her. “Would you move out of Ramsbury in the meantime?”

  “Well, there is something else I wanted to talk about.”

  “Hmm?”

  “About your proposal... I wanted to let you know that I accept it.”

  “Pardon me? My proposal?”

  Sophia put her hands on her hips. “I seem to recall that you proposed to me after you were shot,” she told him. “Well, I accept.”

  “You... You want to be my wife?”

  “Only if you want to be my husband. Unless, of course, it was just the laudanum speaking.” Sophia hid a smile as she glanced out the window to where the old house sat in the distance. “I want this boarding school to be my own enterprise, but I want your moral support—as you’ve mentioned before. I... I want to be happy with you. And Annie. And, well, I love you,” she said bluntly.

  “I... I love you too. Very much so.”

  “Well then, do you want to be my husband?”

  Just then, Annie ran into the dining room and jumped onto her father’s lap.

  “Did he say yes?” she asked Sophia eagerly.

  “Yes,” Alex said, laughing. “I do.”

  “That’s more like it.” Sophia grinned, and then leaned forward to give Alex a kiss.

  Epilogue

  London, June 1815

  The streets of London were sweltering as Diana walked arm-in-arm with Sophia down Kingsgate. It was the first hot day to hit England since the beginning of June and Diana was grateful to have brought her parasol with her on the journey. Still, a bead of sweat dripped uncomfortably down her back.

  Diana longed to be back at Widley House, sipping on punch and enjoying the late spring day from the comfort of the indoors. However, this needed to be done. Sophia had said that an old wise woman, Miss Baxter, would be able to make Diana’s womb barren once again without any pain. Then, once that was over and done with, Diana could go back to enjoying parties and dancing to her heart’s content.