by Sarita Leone
While her sister did not require an answer, Sophie thought, No, there is no way to hide who we really are—a mask is but a diversion, not a mirror of the person lurking behind it.
Rachel finished with a flourish, waving her arms and raising her voice so loud their parents rushed from the library to see what the fuss was about.
“No! I cannot fall for a man who is my equal. I am so stupid that I have lost my head to a man whose identity I will never decipher!”
Chapter 7
Rachel couldn’t be pulled out of her doldrums by anyone. Every member of the household tried, each using their own best personal techniques for getting the youngest Teasdale to turn a smile. Some got a grin, but none accomplished the goal completely. Three days after her admission, Rachel was still less than cheerful.
It was bitterly cold outside, but by Saturday morning the snow had stopped. By mid-morning, the streets looked passable, so Sophie suggested an outing.
“What do you say to a walk, Rachel? It shall do us both good to get out for a bit of fresh air.”
And it will give me a chance to clear my head, as well, Sophie thought. It seemed impossible they had both fallen into the same trap, and found themselves with feelings for men they would probably never meet again.
“I think not.” Rachel held a book of poetry limply in one hand, its pages open but unread. She had been staring at the ceiling for the better part of an hour.
“I think so.” Sophie felt the slow burn of frustration grow within her. She had tried to be patient with her sister, but this moping around was more than she could bear. With more gusto than was necessary, she pushed up from the sofa and dashed across the room. Grabbing Rachel’s wrist, she tugged her from her seat. “It will be good for us. We have been cooped up in the house since the Atwell’s party. Come on, get your coat and scarf. There is a whole world outside, and we need to take part in it.”
Rachel reluctantly went toward the hall closet.
“Don’t forget your gloves,” Sophie called. She purposefully put a cheery note in her voice. “We don’t want your fingers to freeze, do we?”
It wasn’t a huge victory, but at least it was something. She and Rachel were on their way back into the world. One way or another, they had to get past their musings about men, New Year’s, and the party. It wouldn’t be easy, but somehow they would manage it.
Hopefully.
****
“See? Aren’t you glad now that you came out with me? And don’t you feel foolish for having put up such a fuss when I suggested the outing?”
The walk to the shops closest to the house had brought color to their cheeks and supplied warmth the day’s icy weather could not steal. They were heavily dressed, and while things were slushy underfoot they had no trouble navigating the snowy sidewalks.
“I do feel entirely foolish, Sophie. About raising such a stink when you asked me to come out with you, certainly, but about something else as well.” Rachel stopped to examine the wares on display in a flower shop window. When she lingered, Sophie followed her lead.
Eventually, dear sister, you will show your hand—and what is in your head. All I have to do is wait…
“What, pray tell? I was only teasing you, Rachel, when I asked if you feel foolish about trying to refuse the outing. I had nothing more in mind, but if there is something you wish to discuss…”
“I do. Oh, but I earnestly do!” Rachel clasped her hands, and then twisted her fingers together so tightly she nearly broke the ribbon holding her reticule closed.
“Careful,” Sophie cautioned. She pointed to the taut ribbon closure. “That is certain to break if you keep such pressure on it.”
Loosening her fingers, Rachel turned to face her and for the first time Sophie saw an expression of regret in her sister’s wide eyes. The sentiment was uncalled for, and put Sophie on instant alert. Rachel was a good, kind soul but she rarely did things she regretted. What could bring such a grave air to her normally cheerful personality?
“What’s wrong? You seem somber. Whatever it is, I’m sure we can fix it. Tell me, what is it?”
“I am a cork-brained girl, that is the problem.”
“You are not! You may be many things, dear sister, but stupid is not one of them! Whatever makes you say such a thing?”
Rachel shrugged, but she seemed much calmer than she had only a moment earlier. “I fear I have made a cake of myself—yet again. I have been mulling over my declaration of—of…well, my declaration that I am enamored of a certain nameless gentleman, and I find I am…”
Sophie waited. She counted to ten. Then she added another four for good measure. When Rachel’s lips remained sealed, she asked, “What? You are what?”
Another shrug, this one twice as emphatic as the first. Rachel’s shoulders rose so high they touched the bottom of her bonnet before they fell. “Mistaken.”
“Mistaken?” It would have been comical had she not been so exasperated. Leave it to Rachel to announce her intentions—and her agony—over a man only to repeal the words just a few days later! “Do you mean you are not setting your cap on the man who partnered you at the Atwell dance?”
“That is exactly what I mean, Sophie.”
Rachel began to walk again, leaving the flower shop behind as if it did not exist. She moved purposefully through the growing crowd, winding her slim body into breaks in the foot traffic a larger person would not have been able to navigate. Sophie was as slender as her sister, but after Rachel’s cryptic pronouncement, she felt stunned, her feet temporarily stuck to the cold ground like pebbles in a frozen puddle.
Finally, she found her senses and followed Rachel at a brisk pace. It did not take long to catch up. When she did, Sophie put a stilling hand on her sister’s arm. They paused, this time before a bakery shop window. The aroma of sweets wafted out the door each time it opened or closed, but even the tempting aroma didn’t put her off finding out what was going on inside Rachel’s mind.
“Are you telling me that you don’t intend to set you cap on the man you met the other night?”
“That is precisely what I am trying to tell you. Why, I could cast up my accounts, I am so embarrassed! Thank goodness no one save the family witnessed my ridiculous outburst. I would die of mortification if anyone else knew I have so solidly mistaken the feelings in my heart and mind. Why, it almost defies logic! How can one be so completely misguided—especially about one’s own feelings? I feel like a complete fool!”
Sophie could not help herself. She giggled.
It was, she realized, almost cruel given the measure of Rachel’s distress but she was, after all, only human. And like it or not, some things struck her funny which others might perceive as entirely dismal.
The turn of events was ridiculous. It had been almost too much to accept when she learned her sister had fallen under a masked man’s spell, as she herself had done. At the exact same affair, no less. Now, to find Rachel changing position on the leaning of her heart was just plain funny.
Perhaps it was only a matter of time before she, too, no longer found herself fixated on a masked dance partner. Highly unlikely, but nonetheless possible…
Or not.
“How can you laugh when I’ve just spilled my soul out to you? How can you be so cruel?”
Rachel turned and stomped off, nearly knocking a woman off her feet as she exited the bakeshop. Sophie murmured a hurried apology as she caught the woman’s indignant glare. She rushed to catch her sister—again.
When she did, she grabbed Rachel’s arm so hard the younger woman almost stumbled. Sophie reached out and held her up as they both slid sideways on the icy walkway. As soon as their feet felt planted, they looked into each other’s eyes and smiled. They were, after all, sisters, and it did not take much for them to make amends.
“I am not laughing at you, Rachel. And please, do not make a Cheltenham tragedy out of the day. There’s no need at all to blow anything out of proportion.” Sophie paused to take a breath, her gaze goi
ng to the sky.
It was rapidly turning darker, and the air growing colder. They would have to turn for home soon—but first, they should set things straight between them.
“I did not laugh at you. My mirth was, I assure you, pure relief. You’ve been so subdued these past few days that I’ve been concerned about you. I worried you might make yourself ill over something that could not be changed, or for a man who does not deserve your high esteem.”
She waited while Rachel removed her right glove, readjusted the angle of the leather fingertips and put her hand back into the piece of clothing. Then, she watched Rachel shift her weight from one foot to the other, as if doing an impromptu one-person jig. Finally, she kept her mouth firmly closed as her sister struggled to find a suitable reply. It took all of her concentration, willpower, patience, and sisterly devotion not to push Rachel to speak before she was prepared to do so.
The prodigious preparations had not been in vain. Nor had Sophie’s genial attitude and willingness to allow Rachel as much time as she needed to be ready to share her secrets.
“I believe he does deserve my high esteem. He seemed everything I thought I wanted in a husband. And yes, I did say ‘husband’, even though you are the one who has made the resolution to stay open to meeting and cultivating a relationship with an eye toward matrimony. But even though this masked man—that just sounds so strange whenever I say or think it, but there is no other way to put it, is there? But he was a masked man and even if he seems like all I have wished for, after careful consideration I don’t believe he is the man of my dreams.”
“Why the sudden change in attitude? Only a few days ago you were convinced you might perish because he might stay forever anonymous. Now it doesn’t seem to matter who he is, or what sort of relationship you might build if you were both unmasked. Now the most pressing point seems to be that none of it matters. You have put him out of your mind completely, is that what you are saying? Please, Rachel, explain yourself. I cannot help but be confused.”
The sky continued to become grayer, but neither sister wanted to move until they had finished their discussion. A stiff wind sent icy shards through the air, bringing the temperature down substantially. To linger overlong would be foolish, but now that Rachel was finally in the mood to talk, Sophie hated to risk not hearing the whole story behind her sister’s unusual behavior.
Evidently, Rachel felt as chilly as she did, because when she spoke she didn’t waste words. “I’ve reconsidered my feelings toward him, that’s all. I regret speaking so hastily. Now when I think of the masked—oh, you know whom I mean. Anyhow, when I think of him, I just cannot see myself with a man like that.”
“Like what?”
“Polished. He is too polished by far for my taste. I am not high in the instep, Sophie. You must understand, because you aren’t, either. We aren’t fancy women after high in the nob men. I am more down to earth, with a simpler disposition. I believe I would be much more content with a man who isn’t as polished as he was. A man more like our Colin than the Corinthian I danced with.”
Colin and Rachel? The idea was absurd! Not only were they complete opposites on so many points of view, but Sophie knew for a fact that Colin considered her sister with the same feelings he held for his own. It was preposterous—and she opened her mouth to say so but Rachel cut her off.
“No, no,” Rachel said, laughing. She waved a gloved hand between them. Snowflakes, nearly as large as tea plates, began to fall. One dropped lazily between them, and was unceremoniously brushed aside by the waving hand. “I don’t mean I want Colin. I just mean I think I would prefer someone similar in temperament to our dear Colin, that’s all. He is much more comfortable, don’t you agree, than a fancy, masked man?”
“Life is more comfortable when shared,” Sophie allowed. She still couldn’t get past the mind picture of Colin beside Rachel that had been insinuated these past minutes.
“Exactly. Now, I’ll forget about the man who danced my toes sore and will concentrate on finding someone more like myself and less like a shiny apple. I find I’m more a grape person, comfortable lounging in a cluster rather than feeling buffed to perfection and put on display. And you, Sophie, will remember you made a promise on New Year’s Day. You did not forget, did you?”
How could she have forgotten? Between the dancing dream with his Valentine wishes and her insane New Year’s resolution, she had hardly had time to think of anything else.
Rachel waited, and the sky grew ominous, so Sophie shook her head.
“I haven’t forgotten. I remember my promise, dear sister. But now I do believe we should head home before we’re caught out in a snowstorm.”
She would have turned them toward home, but Rachel smiled sweetly and pointed to a doorway just a few feet from where they stood.
“The ribbon shop? You don’t mind, do you? I promise I shall only take a minute—two at most—to choose a ribbon to match my lavender morning dress. I have, I am embarrassed to admit, a row of needle holes along the edge of its pocket.”
By the time they left the ribbon shop, the sky was nearly coal gray and snow fell heavily. They were not far from Henry Street, but the trip home would be less congenial than their earlier walk had been.
Putting her head down against the wind, Sophie said, “We mustn’t delay. This mess could get worse still. We need to get home before we are frozen through.”
They linked arms, and held firmly to each other. Each had a package tucked beneath the other arm. With their minds on the weather, the sisters hurried along the sidewalk. The crowd had diminished substantially, so there was no need to weave between foot traffic now. Only a few brave souls were out, and they all had their heads down and scurried for warmth, as well.
“Brr!” Rachel shivered beside her. “It’s cold out here.”
Neither of their coats was as warm as it should be for the day. Earlier they had dressed in layers, and felt as bundled as children prepared to go sledding, but now they were still cold. If they had been juveniles on a sledding expedition, they would have long since given up their activity in favor of home, hearth, and hot chocolate.
“Just don’t think about it.” Sophie’s nose ran, but she didn’t want to pull her hand from where it twisted around Rachel’s, so she ignored the drip and quickened her step. “If you don’t think about it, you won’t be so cold.”
The logic was faulty, but it was the only thing she could think to say. Her brain felt frozen beneath her bonnet.
Just when she thought she might cry from the bitterness, a shiny black barouche pulled up beside them. Six black horses towed the conveyance. Unperturbed by the weather, they stomped their hooves energetically when the driver held them at a standstill.
The side door swung open. A second later a small metal step unfolded from inside the cabin. Then, Colin stuck his head out of the doorway and beckoned them over.
“Come on! This is no day for man or beast to be out—it is even less fit to shelter two delicate ladies. Come on, please, before you catch a chill!”
Rachel dropped Sophie’s arm so fast it might have been on fire. She hurried over the snow-covered cobbles toward the coach. When she realized her sister was not on her coattail, she turned and asked, “Good Lord, Sophie—whatever are you waiting for?”
“I confess, I don’t know.” Then, her heart grateful beyond measure, she climbed into the carriage behind Rachel. They watched Colin speak with the driver before he slammed the door shut.
Sophie didn’t believe she had ever been so happy to see Colin as she was at that very moment. He was a hero, rescuing them from winter’s icy grip. Had her nose not been dripping so copiously, she might have thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly just to show her appreciation.
****
They looked chilled to the bone. He would have liked to get up and move from his seat to theirs but wanting to do a thing and actually doing it were two very different propositions. Had it been proper, Colin would have sat down betwe
en the sisters, put a protective arm around each one and held them close while they thawed out. Instead, he had to settle for handing Sophie a hanky and covering their legs with one of the coach’s heavy woolen lap blankets while she blew her nose.
He had been on the way home from the duke’s residence when he spotted them trudging through the knee-high snow. Part of him was annoyed that they were out in such frigid weather. How could they be so careless? Influenza, ague, and all manner of ailments plagued the city during the winter months. If Sophie took ill…
Perish the thought!
Another part of him, the more self-indulgent side, was cheered by the sight of the sisters making their way through the drifts. He had wanted to see Sophie for days but had been cooped up in John’s house while he recovered from his cold. How fortuitous that his wish should be fulfilled before he even made his own doorway.
“Dare I ask what the two of you are doing out on such a terrible day?” Numerous pots of tea with honey had soothed his throat so when he spoke he sounded normal. Aside from a minor lingering cough, it was as if he had never been ill. “It is, I fear, hardly the perfect day for a shopping expedition.”
Rachel answered. “You know how it is, being shut inside for days on end. We had to get out, or we might have gone stir crazy. You would hate to hear we’d been carted off to the Hospital of Saint Mary of Bethlehem’s, wouldn’t you?”
“It would be rather unfortunate to hear you and Sophie were patients at Bedlam.” He chuckled at the thought. “Still, it seems you might have chosen a more pleasant day for your insanity-avoiding jaunt, don’t you think?”
“If we waited until the sky was blue, the air warm, and the weather fair, we might not get out of the house before May.” Sophie shot him a glance that sent his heart thudding in his chest. “I dare say, we might be swinging from the chandeliers—if there were any in our house—well before then.”