Miss Mary’s Daughter

by Diney Costeloe

  Sophie saw his handsome, smiling face, looking up at her enquiringly, and found herself returning his smile. Here was a man who regarded her with admiration in his eyes, who always treated her with a warmth that brought an answering glow to her own heart. She reached out her hand and he took it in his.

  ‘That would be delightful,’ she said, ‘if you can spare the time.’

  ‘Oh, that will be no problem,’ Nicholas said as he took her hand. ‘If you just tell me where you live, I shall pay you a visit as soon as I have concluded my other business.’

  His eyes held hers for a moment, making the colour seep into her cheeks, and then he raised her hand to his lips before releasing it.

  ‘I had better go,’ Sophie said in confusion, as she felt the warmth of his lips on her fingers.

  ‘Of course,’ Nicholas agreed. ‘Perhaps I may walk into the village with you.’

  Nicholas took hold of Millie’s bridle and they walked down the hill past the church and into the centre of the village.

  Few people were about, as the winter evening was closing in, and the lighted windows of The Clipper looked warm and welcoming. But though tempted to spend half an hour with the charming doctor, Sophie again turned down his invitation to step inside.

  ‘Perhaps another time,’ she said. ‘But I look forward to seeing you in London.’ And she told him where she lived before she left him outside his own house and rode back up the lane to Trescadinnick.

  When she reached the stable yard, Ned was waiting to help her dismount and to deal with Millie. ‘I’m glad you’re back safe and sound, miss,’ he said. ‘Mr Charles said I shouldn’t have let you ride out alone on a day like today.’

  ‘I’m sorry if I got you into trouble, Ned,’ Sophie said, another wave of irritation sweeping through her at Charles’s presumption. ‘But I am quite safe riding Millie and he need not have worried.’

  There was no one in the hall as she entered and she went straight up to her room, where she found Hannah folding the last of her clothes into her trunk.

  ‘Now, Miss Sophie, I’m right glad to see you back safe and sound,’ she said, her relief all too obvious. ‘Mrs Treslyn is here and wants to have a word with you when you’ve changed your dress.’

  ‘Aunt Matty?’ Sophie said in surprise. ‘I didn’t know she was coming again today.’

  ‘Mr Penvarrow sent Paxton to fetch her,’ Hannah explained. ‘She’s in the drawing room with Mrs Leroy.’

  Sophie nodded. ‘Did you tell Mrs Paxton that I’d like my dinner on a tray in my room?’

  ‘I did, Miss Sophie. Mrs Leroy wasn’t best pleased, but Mrs Treslyn suggested that it wouldn’t hurt if you were tired.’

  ‘Did you find out train times from Paxton?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘Yes, and he’ll take us to St Morwen first thing in the morning to catch the train to Truro.’

  ‘Good,’ said Sophie. ‘That’s settled then.’

  19

  Matty had been startled that afternoon by the arrival of Paxton in the pony and trap with a summons from her father to come at once to Trescadinnick. She had no idea what he wanted and not knowing if she would be expected to stay the night, brought an overnight bag with her.

  When she walked in through the front door, she was greeted by Louisa in the hall.

  ‘I’m glad you’ve come, Matty,’ Louisa said as Matty removed her cloak. ‘Papa is in a furious rage. He’s had a great argument with both Charles and Sophie. Charles is refusing to go back and apologize; indeed, he’s not even speaking to him. Sophie, stupid girl, has announced she’s going back to London tomorrow, and in the meantime has ridden off alone on that horse of yours.’

  ‘Gracious!’ said Matty. ‘What on earth sparked that off?’

  ‘Father’s made a new will and named Sophie his heir. It’s she who’ll inherit Trescadinnick when he dies, not Charles... And when I think of all the time and effort Charles has put into keeping the place running and solvent...’ Louisa’s face contorted as she fought for words. ‘If it weren’t for Charles, there wouldn’t be anything for anyone to inherit except a crumbling house and a stack of debts.’

  ‘And Father told them all this today?’

  ‘He told Sophie yesterday, but she, little minx, kept it to herself,’ said Louisa bitterly. ‘She didn’t warn Charles what Father had done.’

  ‘Well, I think you have to agree it wasn’t her place to do so, and it’s hardly her fault that Father has changed his will.’

  ‘Of course it’s her fault,’ snapped Louisa, ‘ingratiating herself with the old man. Sitting with him, reading to him, playing the piano for him.’

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Louisa,’ Matty retorted. ‘She did as she was asked. And,’ she went on, ‘both you and Charles must have known that it was on the cards that Father would change his will once he’d sent for her and brought her down here.’

  ‘You were the one that brought her down here,’ Louisa pointed out angrily.

  ‘I was the one that was sent to fetch her,’ Matty said patiently. ‘It was Father who sent me, as you well know.’

  ‘Well, she’s leaving for London tomorrow,’ said Louisa. ‘And as far as I’m concerned it’s not a moment too soon.’

  ‘Tomorrow!’ exclaimed Matty. ‘No wonder Father’s in a state.’

  ‘Well, you’d better go up and see him,’ Louisa said. ‘He’s waiting for you in his bedchamber.’

  Matty knew there was nothing further to be learned from Louisa, so she went upstairs and knocked on her father’s door. When there was no reply she softly opened the door and found him dozing in his chair by the fire. As Matty paused in the doorway, looking at him, she was struck yet again by how much he had aged in the last few weeks, perhaps even in the last few hours. She crossed the room and pulling up a chair beside him, took his hand in hers.

  ‘Papa? Are you awake?’

  The old man jolted upright and snapped, ‘Of course I’m awake, Matilda. I’ve been sitting here waiting for you.’

  ‘I came as soon as I could,’ Matty said placatingly. ‘Now then. Tell me what’s happened.’

  ‘What’s happened is that I’ve made a new will in favour of Sophie. She, ridiculous child, says she doesn’t want Trescadinnick. Can you believe that? Says it’s not fair on Charles! What has fairness got to do with anything? She’s blood-kin. He’s not.’

  ‘And you think that it’s right to cut Charles out, after all he’s done?’

  ‘Charles was never in,’ growled Thomas. ‘You and Louisa were to have equal shares.’

  ‘You mean you were never going to leave Trescadinnick to Charles?’ Matty was incredulous. ‘After all he’s done?’ She stared at her father. ‘Louisa says he’s not speaking to you, and I have to say, Papa, I’m not surprised!’

  ‘I suppose he’d have got it in the end.’ Thomas sighed. ‘Louisa’s share anyway. But this way he can have it all much sooner.’

  ‘Sooner? How do you mean?’

  ‘I told him, when Sophie first arrived, that I was going to leave the estate to her, but all he had to do was marry her and it would be his as well.’

  ‘Marry her?’ Matty shook her head in disbelief. ‘You told him to marry her. And did you say the same to Sophie?’

  ‘Not then,’ Thomas admitted. ‘I told them both again this morning of these arrangements.’

  ‘You told them they were to marry each other?’

  ‘Obvious thing to do,’ grumbled Thomas. ‘Sorts everything out right and tight.’

  ‘Papa,’ Matty tried to keep her voice calm, ‘I’d have thought by now you’d have learned that you can’t dictate to people how they’re to live their lives, whom they’re to marry, where they’re to live. Look what happened when you refused Mary permission to marry the man she loved. You lost her. You banished her for not falling in with your wishes and you lost her. Do you want to do the same with Sophie? She’s leaving for London tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ Thomas cried in agitation. ‘So soon? I sha
n’t allow it!’

  ‘You can’t prevent it, Papa,’ Matty said, ‘short of you locking her into her room. Sophie is her own woman, like her mother. If you try and force her to do something she’ll simply walk away, and you can’t stop her.’

  ‘I can cut off her allowance,’ muttered Thomas. ‘What’s the chit going to live on if I do that? Eh?’

  ‘That’s your problem, Papa. You still regard her as a chit of a girl when she’s actually a woman grown. She’ll be twenty-one very soon and able to look after herself. And Papa,’ Matty spoke slowly and clearly, ‘with regard to finances, I shall make sure she has no worries about money. I have plenty and will simply replace your allowance with one of my own.’

  ‘How dare you interfere!’ snapped the old man.

  ‘How dare I?’ Matty got to her feet and looked down at her father, still hunched in his chair. ‘Because I’m no longer afraid of you, Papa. You can’t bully me any more. I didn’t dare stand up to you before and lost my sister. I wasn’t in a position to help Mary then, and I lost her, but I’m not going to lose Sophie in the same way. I will look after her until she finds someone she does want to marry, and you can’t stop me either.’

  ‘It comes to something when a man isn’t master in his own house!’ growled Thomas.

  ‘You can be master in your own house, Papa, but you can’t be master of other people’s lives! Now,’ Matty continued, ‘I’ll wait till Sophie gets back and see what I can do to retrieve the situation.’

  ‘Gets back? Where’s the girl gone?’

  ‘She took Millie out and went for a ride.’

  ‘Alone? Didn’t Charles go with her?’

  Matty sighed. ‘Papa, I don’t think Charles and Sophie are speaking at the moment.’

  ‘Ridiculous!’ expostulated Thomas. ‘And so I shall tell them!’

  ‘Papa, I think you’ve told them enough,’ retorted Matty, and with that she left the room. Downstairs she related her conversation to Louisa, who couldn’t believe that Charles had never been in her father’s will.

  ‘But we always assumed everything would go to Charles!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Did Papa ever say so?’

  ‘No, but it seemed obvious. Admit it, Matty, you thought so too.’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ conceded Matty. ‘But we should have known Papa better.’

  Louisa sighed. ‘Well,’ she said a little unwillingly, ‘I suppose if he did marry Sophie, it would...’ She searched for the words. ‘It could possibly be the answer.’

  ‘Except,’ Matty said, ‘perhaps for Charles and Sophie.’

  Next morning Paxton carried Sophie’s trunk out to the waiting trap, while Sophie said goodbye to the family. She had breakfasted alone in her room, but she knew that she couldn’t avoid making her farewells, especially to AliceAnne.

  She went first to her grandfather, who had not yet risen from his bed. ‘I’m returning home now, Grandfather,’ she said. ‘I have come to say goodbye.’

  Thomas, propped against his pillows, said, ‘But you will come back again?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Sophie conceded. ‘But I’m not sure when. AliceAnne has asked me to come and spend Christmas with you.’

  ‘I should like that,’ Thomas said simply. ‘We shall miss you, Sophie. Will you come?’

  Sophie reached out and took his hand. ‘That depends on you, Grandfather. I think it is wrong of you not to make Charles your heir. And I think it is wrong of you to tell him... and me, whom we should marry.’

  ‘I shall not change my mind,’ the old man said.

  ‘Then it is unlikely I shall come back,’ returned Sophie.

  Thomas’s lips tightened and he turned his head away from her. Sophie released his hand and with the murmur of ‘Goodbye, Grandfather,’ quietly left the room.

  When she reached the hall, she knocked on Charles’s study door and without waiting for an acknowledgement, went in. Charles was sitting at his desk, apparently writing a letter. He looked up and said, ‘Good morning, cousin.’

  ‘Paxton is waiting outside,’ Sophie said, stretching out her hand. ‘I’ve come to say goodbye.’

  ‘So you really are going back to London?’

  ‘Of course. I told you so yesterday.’

  ‘But so soon?’

  ‘The sooner the better,’ Sophie replied. ‘The sooner we can all get back to our normal lives.’

  ‘Will you come back?’ Charles asked.

  ‘Not as things stand. There seems to be little point, don’t you think?’

  Charles had been regretting his outburst of the previous day. He knew it had been unfair of him to take his anger at Thomas out on Sophie. It was hardly her fault that the old man had changed his will and made the outrageous suggestion that everything would be fine if he just married her, but he’d said words he could never unsay and now he was at a loss.

  Sophie still burned with humiliation at his harsh dismissal of her and faced him now, her expression set.

  ‘What about AliceAnne?’ began Charles.

  ‘What about her?’ snapped Sophie, for she too had been thinking of the little girl and the promise she had made. ‘As you never fail to remind me, she’s your daughter. You look after her. You spend time with her. You make her Christmas special. You’re her father.’ Then, without pausing to see how Charles had received this salvo, Sophie turned on her heel and walked back into the hall where her two aunts were waiting to see her off.

  Louisa simply said, ‘Goodbye, Sophie. I wish you well.’

  ‘Where’s AliceAnne?’ Sophie asked. ‘I haven’t said goodbye to her.’

  ‘She’s in the schoolroom, learning her Bible passage. I will tell her you said goodbye.’

  ‘Tell her I will write to her,’ said Sophie, sad that Louisa’s hostility had sent the child away before they’d had the chance for a proper farewell.

  ‘I’ll tell her,’ said Louisa. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do in the dairy.’ And unaware of a muffled sob, she disappeared down the passage to the kitchen.

  As soon as she had gone Sophie crossed to the table and peeped under its chenille cloth. There was AliceAnne, curled up on the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks. Sophie held out her arms and the little girl crawled into them. ‘Don’t cry, AliceAnne,’ Sophie soothed. ‘Don’t cry, dearest.’

  ‘B-b-but you’re going away,’ stammered AliceAnne. ‘I don’t want you to go. I like it when you’re here.’

  ‘But your papa is here with you,’ Sophie said gently. ‘He’s here to look after you.’

  ‘But I want you... and Hannah. I don’t want Hannah to go.’

  This brought Sophie up short. It wasn’t that she minded AliceAnne wanting Hannah to stay, but it was the first time she had actually considered what effect her taking Hannah with her to London would have on AliceAnne. As their stay at Trescadinnick had lengthened from days into weeks, Hannah had taken over much of the child’s care, looking after her clothes, sitting with her as she took solitary meals in the schoolroom. It was often Hannah who took her out for her afternoon walk, played with her, read to her, taught her parlour games, and helped her get ready for bed. Sophie, with her piano lessons and help in the schoolroom, had become part of AliceAnne’s life, but Hannah had become central to it.

  Sophie pushed these thoughts aside and giving AliceAnne a hug, said, ‘I have to go now, AliceAnne. We have a train to catch. But we will come back and see you, I promise. I’m just not quite sure when. Come on now, there’s a good girl, stop crying and come out to say goodbye to Hannah.’

  AliceAnne gulped hard, her tears subsiding, and together they walked out to where Paxton waited with the pony and trap. Hannah was waiting with him and immediately AliceAnne broke free and ran to hug her. Hannah put her arms about her and held her close for a moment and then, holding her away a little, looked down into her tear-streaked face and said, ‘Now then, Miss AliceAnne, no need for tears. You heard your Aunt Sophie say we’ll be back. That’s something to look forward to, isn’t it?�
��

  AliceAnne nodded, not able to speak without crying, and Hannah gave her one more hug before climbing up into the trap where Sophie was already waiting. Paxton flicked his whip and the pony set off down the drive. Sophie looked back at the house and was surprised to see Charles had come out of the front door and had lifted AliceAnne in his arms, holding her close against him. For a few minutes they stood there, Charles, AliceAnne and Aunt Matty, bathed in the pale winter sunshine, watching until the trap turned the corner and was out of sight.

  Neither Sophie nor Hannah spoke as they travelled along the road to St Morwen, each deep in her own thoughts. Hannah had been very dubious about this sudden flight from Trescadinnick, and had said so the previous evening as they sat by the fire in Sophie’s bedchamber while Sophie ate the simple supper that Mrs Paxton had sent up.

  Sophie had been adamant. ‘I can’t stay here, Hannah,’ she said. ‘It’s bad enough that Grandfather has made me his heir. I can’t do much about that; he’s made up his mind. But he’s cut Charles out and that makes it very difficult for us to remain under the same roof.’

  ‘I see that, Miss Sophie, but couldn’t you at least stay a few more days and leave in a more dignified manner?’

  ‘We might have managed that,’ Sophie answered. ‘But when Grandfather demanded that Charles and I should marry, without, as far as I knew, consulting either of us, it turned out that he’d already told Charles that was his plan. Charles had his answer ready and made it abundantly clear he doesn’t want to marry me, and I certainly don’t want to marry him.’

  Hannah had to accept Sophie’s decision and here they were on their way to the station, and by the end of the day they would be back in their own little house in Hammersmith. If Hannah had been given the opportunity to go back to London in the first few weeks of their stay at Trescadinnick, she would have jumped at the chance to return to the bustle of the city, but now they were actually going, her heart was heavy and she had no wish to leave. She had gradually slipped into the routine of Trescadinnick and though she looked after Sophie’s few needs, it was her care of AliceAnne that gave her a definite place in the household. Louisa had been happy enough to relinquish the daily care of the little girl and Hannah had grown to love the lonely child who was growing up, almost overlooked. It wasn’t, however, AliceAnne who filled her thoughts as they drove away that early morning, but someone else she had come to love: Will Shaw.