Miss Sophie's Secret

by Fran Baker

  “Indeed, yes,” Kathleen agreed.

  Before Sophie could remind everyone that Jonathan and she were but distant cousins, Lady Biskup and Lady Englewood re-entered the room, and the guests began to don their coats and mufflers. Sophie had turned to stare off into space. She was so deep in thought that she was unaware of the bustle around her. When Jeanette had bid her good-bye three times without receiving an answer, Lady Biskup spoke to her sharply.

  “Yes, Aunt Ruth?” she said, turning around in surprise.

  “Our guests are departing, my love.”

  “Oh,” Sophie said. “Until tonight, then.”

  She hurried to embrace each one. As soon the door had closed behind them, she turned to her aunt, an anxious expression furrowing her brow.

  “Jeanette has just made the strangest observation,” she said. “I cannot believe it is true. She is of the opinion that people consider most handsome or beautiful those who most closely resemble themselves.”

  Lady Biskup nodded. “A rule of life, I believe. I remember the case of my dearly departed sister. She always considered our brother, Edgar, to be the handsomest boy in the world.”

  Sophie gasped. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

  “She was a beautiful girl, with dark hair and eyes and . . . and she died much too young.” Lady Biskup sighed. “Such a long time ago.”

  Sophie was silent, mulling over this new piece of information.

  Just then a door opened and Jonathan entered the room. Sophie felt a surge of pleasure at the sight of him.

  “Oh,” he said, looking around. “They have gone.”

  “And none too soon, I assure you,” Lady Biskup said. “Blanche grows more foolish with each moment of her life. How anyone can abide her nonsense is more than I can understand. My poor brother! Only think how it must be to have her fluttering incessantly about.”

  Jonathan smiled. “Poor Lord Edgar. Poor Aunt Blanche.”

  Sophie watched him fondly. She realized that Jeanette had been right: Jonathan had changed over the years. He was tall and supple, his body lean from the rigors of war. And his eyes did, indeed, have an intensity—a residue of suffering and courage—that was deliciously disturbing. At the moment a lock of his wavy black hair had fallen over his forehead, giving him a charmingly boyish appearance.

  “Well, Sophie?” he said, smiling. “You’ve something on your mind?”

  “No,” she said, “That is . . . no.”

  Lady Biskup beckoned to her. “Let us go upstairs, my love. Several of your new gowns have been delivered and I am eager to see how well they fit.”

  “I am looking forward to seeing you in this remarkable collection,” Jonathan said, still smiling.

  Sophie felt suddenly shy, and to her consternation her cheeks grew warm. Lady Biskup hurried to her side.

  “Are you ill, my love?” She pressed a hand to her brow. “You’ve not taken a chill?”

  “No, I certainly have not,” Sophie assured her, turning bashfully away from Jonathan. “I was musing . . .” She cast about in her mind for a topic that would draw their attention away from the condition of her cheeks.

  “Is it true,” she began, “that Elizabeth Bingham is to be married?”

  “Yes,” Lady Biskup said. “She will marry Wellstone at the end of January. They will travel to Italy, where they will spend some time at the Duke of Ferndale’s villa. He is Charles’s uncle, you know.”

  Jonathan was nodding thoughtfully. “I knew Charles at Eton. He’s wonderfully clever. It’s a pity he’ll not be duke instead of Robert. Charles would put the family finances back in order quickly enough.”

  “Especially with Elizabeth’s money,” Lady Biskup said. “Since her brother was lost on the Peninsula, I understand that Elizabeth’s inheritance is nearly a quarter of a million pounds.”

  Jonathan whistled. “I knew the Binghams were rich, but I had no idea it was to that extent.”

  Lady Biskup shook her head sadly. “Such a pity that Charles will never be duke, but Robert is five years younger and quite healthy.”

  While Jonathan and Lady Biskup talked together, Sophie watched them surreptitiously. Jonathan’s face in profile, she discovered, was especially captivating. She wondered why she had never before noticed his carved features, the strong jaw, and the enticing way his mouth curved up at the corners. For a moment she imagined it pressing gently against her own.

  “Sophie!” her aunt exclaimed. “I am asking you a question and you are ignoring me. Don’t stand there smiling in that foolish manner.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, flushing hotly.

  “I asked if you wish to accompany your Aunt Blanche’s party to the Princess Hollande’s party tonight. Or would you prefer to go with only Jonathan and me?”

  “Oh, may we accompany Jeanette?’ she asked, clasping her hands. “I should enjoy that above all things.”

  Chapter 8

  At the last moment, the Englewood party sent word that they had been delayed, and Lady Biskup went on ahead with Sophie and Jonathan. The Princess Hollande’s dinner party proved to be a quiet affair, formal and solemn, with a small group of guests—about forty in all.

  The public rooms were decorated with swags of holly and red velvet bows. Over everything hung a fragrance of cloves, hot apples, and cinnamon.

  It soon became apparent to Sophie that Jonathan was a great favorite among the ton. Every lady present made a point of seeking him out. The young ladies showered him with blushes and giggles, while the older ones beamed and teased and imposed upon his good nature as long as he would allow it.

  “Such an excellent young man, your nephew,” Princess Hollande observed while she chatted affably with Lady Biskup. “Maria Taylor has hopes in that direction for her Barbara, but I assured her that her plotting would be in vain.” She smiled at Sophie.

  “Quite hopeless,” Lady Biskup agreed. “She must not put such notions into her daughter’s head—it will only cause her sorrow.”

  “Yes, of course,” the princess concurred.

  Later, Sophie found herself unexpectedly alone with Barbara Taylor, and to her surprise the girl immediately began to cross-examine her about her cousin.

  “Is he not the most thrilling creature?” Barbara giggled, her freckled face growing so pink with excitement that it was difficult to distinguish her skin from her fiery red hair. “They say he was the most valiant hero on the Peninsula,” she went on. “Risked his life to rescue Paul Bingham—rode boldly behind the enemy lines and carried him back on the front of his saddle. It was all for naught, of course, as the poor man expired within hours. And, alas, Paul was the only member of the Bingham family who was even remotely attractive. He had handsome white teeth of a normal size, you know.”

  Sophie pursed her lips, wondering how she could answer this girl without appearing disloyal to Kathleen and Elizabeth. But there was no need for her to speak, as Barbara rushed on without pause.

  “I think I shall sweep all my reserve aside and allow myself to fall in love with him,” she announced. “Would you recommend it?”

  “Well, no,” Sophie began, intending to give her some excellent advice on the advantages of caution in all things, especially love and marriage, which affect the whole of one’s life.

  They were interrupted by the gentleman, himself, who came up to them and smiled with such charm and warmth that both young ladies were unable to do more than smile fatuously back at him.

  “Miss Taylor,” Jonathan said, raising her hand to his lips.

  He turned to Sophie. “May I take you in to dinner? I have the good fortune to be your partner.”

  He remained chatting with Miss Taylor until her dinner partner arrived to lead her away, and then offered Sophie his arm so they could make their way into line a few places behind the prince and princess. Sophie was momentarily surprised to find them rated so high. But after some consideration she decided that it was in deference to Jonathan’s heroism. In fact, during the toasts, the prince
urged everyone to rise and drink to “our selfless defenders on the Peninsula who, with their very lives, keep us safe and proud at home.” At which point he raised his glass in Jonathan’s direction and looked straight into his eyes. Everyone else in the room turned to him also and raised his glass. Jonathan thanked them in the name of all those who had been lost and those who were now staunchly defending their country.

  During most of the meal Sophie and Jonathan chatted about Vaile Priory. They were seated in such a way that Sophie could watch Jeanette and Fairmont, and she was gratified to note that those two were chatting comfortably together, without any of the strain that they had manifested at the theater the evening before.

  By the time their carriages arrived to take them home, the wind was blowing a gale down the deserted streets. The snow had stopped, but piles of it were mounded on both sides of the thoroughfares, and the cobbles were so icy that the horses stumbled frequently and it was necessary for the coachman to proceed with extreme caution.

  “They are predicting a bitter winter,” Jonathan told them as they huddled under their fur rugs. “I am told that the squirrels were unusually active last fall, storing extra seeds and nuts, and disappearing into their nests several weeks earlier than usual.”

  “I can certainly believe it,” Lady Biskup said. “Perhaps we were unwise to come to London at this time of year.”

  The next morning the snow was falling steadily, shrouding the city in a heavy gray silence. Sophie slept later than she intended, and when she hurried down to breakfast, she learned that Jonathan had already left on an errand.

  “How annoying!” she muttered. “I had hoped he would accompany me on my ride through the park today.”

  “You must not ride this morning,” Lady Biskup said. “The icy thoroughfares are much too dangerous.”

  “I’m not afraid,” Sophie replied.

  “Of course you’re not,” her aunt agreed. “But you must consider your horses. Serious injury is a certainty under these conditions.”

  Sophie sighed. “Then I shall be obliged to walk in the square again, and it’s quite the most uninteresting place I know.”

  When she had completed her meal, she donned a warm coat and bonnet and set out with Anna and Johnnie Aysgarth behind her. She was aware of a certain constraint between the two, which she had not noted before. Once as they passed around some shrubbery, the two dropped momentarily out of sight, and she was surprised to hear a sharp sound that resembled a blow. An instant later Anna came hurrying around the bushes alone and with a toss of her head slipped her hand through her mistress’s arm. A moment later Johnnie Aysgarth appeared. He was wearing his customary mischievous expression, and as he met his mistress’s gaze, he grinned at her.

  Sophie peered into Anna’s face. “Are you quite all right?”

  “Aye, miss,” Anna assured her, and raised her nose into the air.

  For a moment Sophie toyed with the idea of questioning the girl, but before she could decide precisely how to start, they rounded another clump of low shrubbery and discovered Albert de Lisle coming toward them.

  He made no attempt to feign surprise, but walked straight up to them and held out his arm to Sophie.

  “You may drop back with Aysgarth,” he told Anna. “I wish to converse with your mistress.”

  For a moment, Anna hesitated.

  Sophie dismissed her with a nod and slipped her arm through Albert’s. They moved off together.

  “I’ve been marching up and down these beastly paths for hours,” he told her. “I was determined to speak with you.” He gave her arm a squeeze. “I must make you understand, Sophie, that over the past few years things have been out of my control. You have the notion that I’ve somehow gone back on my word to you. I assure you that I have not.”

  He let out his breath in a long sigh. “When we swore to be true to each other, I did not expect to hold you to that. I know how many temptations a young girl has. But I held myself to our vow. I swore to be true to you, and I have been. During the past four years there has not been a single person who has caught my interest for so much as a moment.”

  Sophie pursed her lips and gazed down at the rime-encrusted path along which they were moving. After a moment she turned to look thoughtfully into his eyes. They were bright blue and intense, and his mouth, which was reddened by the wind, was charming and curved and inviting.

  But she felt herself drawing away from him inwardly. He had changed since his visit to Vaile Priory, she thought. There was a quality about him now that had been absent before—a practiced affectation under his charming surface that made her slightly uneasy. She wished that Lady Biskup were nearby to intervene or that Jonathan would suddenly appear.

  “Cousin,” she began, “it is a very long time since we made those vows, and I was a child then who had no conception of what I was promising. I understand that there is a young lady named Julia Woodson—”

  “So that is the bee you have got in your bonnet!” he cried, laughing sharply. “She is nothing to me. A charming girl, but . . . her people are from the low country. She likes meadows and rolling hills. She would never be happy in the midst of crags and storms and raging seas, as we are.”

  Sophie frowned. “There has been such a long silence between us . . .”

  “How could I have changed that?”

  “You could have written.”

  “Indeed, I could not! It would have been the shabbiest sort of insult to a young lady to whom I was not formally engaged.”

  “You could have written to Aunt Ruth and sent messages for me.”

  He shook his head. “It would have been necessary for me to explain my situation at home, and my words would have smacked of whining and complaints. What sort of man would you have thought me if I had sent you long dirges.”

  Sophie smiled at him. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve met again and we’re friends. I’m looking forward to the London season in the spring.”

  He nodded, but there was a tightness around his mouth. After a few steps he relaxed and smiled at her. “If you will allow me to call,” he continued. “Aunt Ruth is not at home to me these days. I shall be obliged to fight my way through storms and hostility in order to advance my suit. In case we’re kept apart until Countess Dangerfield’s ball, may I have the pleasure of dancing with you that night?”

  “Yes, indeed,” she said. “I shall enjoy that.”

  They walked on in silence for a time and then Albert said, “I should very much like to have you and Aunt Ruth visit Stonehaven next summer. You’ll be surprised to discover how beautiful the island is. Storm-tossed, I grant you, but beautiful. And the castle is especially well placed on a considerable crag overlooking the sea. Unfortunately, the entire isle is rocky. The soil is very shallow and poor. We’re attempting to enrich it at the present time using Mr. Coke’s methods—with a minimum of success, so far, but we are showing some progress.

  “However,” he went on, “the entire place is wonderfully picturesque, and we’ll be able to make you comfortable, I promise. I’ll put you and Aunt Ruth into a suite of rooms that has a marvelous view from its windows. The bedrooms have recently been paneled to keep out the wind, and the adjacent sitting room is being draped with heavy new tapestries, to the same end. It will be quite comfortable, I assure you.”

  “I shall discuss the possibility with Aunt Ruth,” Sophie said.

  “Please,” he urged. “And coax her to accept. I promise to keep you thoroughly entertained. We have a summer festival on the isle, which you will certainly enjoy. Urge Aunt Ruth to plan your trip for that time—in July.”

  “I shall try,” Sophie promised.

  They were walking wordlessly together when a fresh flutter of snow began to fall softly on their shoulders.

  Albert broke the silence. “When you visit Stonehaven, you must allow me to take you walking along the cliffs. You’ll be amazed to discover the richness of the flora there—hundreds of different kinds of flowers and grasses.”

&nb
sp; They were making their way around a corner and up to an intersecting path, when they nearly collided with Jonathan.

  “Ah, here you are,” he said, smiling cordially at Albert. “Won’t you come inside and have a hot drink, Cousin?”

  Albert hesitated, and for a moment Sophie thought he was going to scowl at Jonathan. But then he smiled and said, “That would be very welcome.”

  The three of them walked out of the park and up the front steps of Vaile House together. Inside, Leeds accepted Albert’s coat, and they all made their way into the yellow salon, where they gratefully received revivifying potions—Albert and Jonathan hot toddies, Sophie a steaming cup of tea. Finally, after chatting pleasantly on various issues of the day, Albert bid them goodbye and departed.

  “He appears to be in good spirits,” Jonathan observed, as they wandered off to the library together.

  “Yes,” Sophie agreed. “He wants to be my friend again, and I see no reason why he should not.”

  Jonathan frowned slightly but made no reply.

  * * * *

  During the week that preceded Countess Dangerfield’s ball, Sophie attended the theater with Jonathan four times. One of the performances was an opera that was set in a warm, rosy Italian garden—a comfortable contrast to the raging storm outside. The music was quite beautiful, Sophie decided, but the heroine was enormously fat. When she was obliged to bid her lover addio, she carried her poor compatriot to the floor with her, landing with such a crash that the audience was hard put to stifle its laughter. Thereafter, her high notes were a bit quavery, and Jonathan pointed out that she walked with a decided limp. During the final curtain calls, however, she was greeted with such warmth of applause that she appeared to consider herself amply rewarded for her stoicism

  On the whole Jonathan gave every indication of enjoying these entertainments, though he appeared to be less affected by the dramatic moments than Sophie was. More than once she caught him covering a smile when his heart strings should have been thrumming. And there were times when she felt that he laughed a bit longer than was necessary. But all in all, it was apparent that he relished their excursions together. She often caught him smiling at her when he thought she was looking elsewhere, and it occurred to her that she had never shared such delightful moments with Albert de Lisle.