My Dear Sophy

by Kimberly Truesdale

  My Dear Sophy

  A Sophia Wentworth Novel

  Inspired by Jane Austen's Persuasion

  by Kimberly Truesdale

  MY DEAR SOPHY

  A Toast and Tea Publications Book / July 2012

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2012 by Kimberly Noelle Egolf

  Cover art and design by Emmanuel Jose

  Except for brief quotations, no part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author. The characters and events in this book are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any similarity to real people, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN # 978-0-9858537-0-9 (Ebook)

  ISBN # 978-0-9858537-1-6 (Paperback)

  For Mom

  Thanks for always cheering me on.

  Chapter I

  Sophia Wentworth had lately developed a talent for always knowing the exact time of day it was without looking at a clock. She did not encourage others to be envious of this skill, however. It was not one she herself particularly relished and would happily have relinquished it at the first opportunity.

  She had begun to notice this ability about three weeks ago, at the same time that her two younger brothers Edward and Frederick had begun to argue incessantly. And so Sophia had learned to divine the time, not by the soft chiming of the mantle-clock or the sonorous clangor of the church bells, but by the noisy sounds of her brothers' disagreements.

  Each morning, the same loud voices roused Sophia from her sleep. She heard the same thumping of walls and furniture and the same clumping of booted feet as the boys stomped past her bedroom door. Inevitably, one would say to the other, as they stomped loudly by, “Would you be quiet! You'll wake Sophy!” The ironic humor she had found in this protestation had been drained out by the third morning of its repetition.

  As she sat sewing by the open window in her front room, Sophy idly wondered how many more of her waking hours were to be interrupted by the silly arguments of her younger brothers. She loved the two boys dearly, of course, but they were making it excessively hard to like them very well at the moment.

  These past weeks, Sophy had been at a loss as to what to do about them. She had no experience managing young boys and their father had been little help. Last week Sophy had spoken to him about the constant bickering between her brothers. He had merely shrugged and informed her that he and his own brothers had done the same thing that that age.

  And so she was thrown again on her own resources. The position was not unfamiliar to her. Eight years ago their mother had been carried away by a sudden fever. Edward had been nine and Freddy only seven years of age, too young to be left alone to mourn. Their father had retreated into himself, leaving fifteen-year-old Sophy to mend the broken hearts around her. Knowing her whole family depended on her, Sophy had not allowed herself to collapse as she wished to do. Instead, she had been the rock as the world shifted around her family.

  Time cured much of the family's sorrow and they easily resumed their old roles. Edward and Freddy once again became normal, rambunctious boys and Doctor Wentworth resumed his successful medical practice. But Sophy always remained at the center of their little world.

  As the daughter of one of the most respected men in town, Sophy also became the center of life in the small Somerset town of Milverton. The town had stood since ancient times at the center of a crossroads. It had once boasted a thriving market, but had in the past hundred years relinquished that honor to a succession of nearby towns. Still, the people worked hard to raise their families and work their farms. Through the trials that befell them, they kept their faith and their laughter. Sophy had learned much of life from them.

  And they did not hesitate to share everything with her. The “Doctor's Place”, as it was known to everyone in the vicinity, sat at the eastern limit of the small town. It was a sizable house, perfect for a working gentleman and his family. It being necessary for everyone coming into or out of Milverton to pass his door, the doctor considered its situation ideal.

  Indeed, the front room where Sophy was in the habit of sitting provided a view onto the one street that ran through the town. The light in this front room was good for the endless round of mending work she did, merely to keep her family in decently presentable clothing. Most afternoons she could be found next to the window doing the day's sewing and chatting to any neighbors who chanced by.

  Many of them had made visits with Sophy into a daily habit. They came to her each afternoon as if she was a queen at court or a priest in his confessional to tell of ailments and cures, of grievances and happinesses, of sisters far away and children nearby. Sophy listened to them all with genuine interest, ever ready to share their joys and sorrows alike and to offer a kind word or a hearty guffaw as each storyteller required.

  No one was now at the front window with her, and so Sophy heard her brothers arguing before she saw them come around the corner toward the house. Right on time, she thought, not looking up from her sewing. This was clearly not to be the day the bickering blessedly ceased.

  In the past few days Sophy had lowered her goal from bringing Edward and Frederick to some kind of mutual accord to simply preventing them from physically harming one another. It was becoming more difficult each day. When her brothers were around, she had to remind herself constantly that she did, indeed, love them.

  Edward and Frederick Wentworth were close in both age and size. In her more frustrated moments, Sophy had speculated over who would win in a fistfight – God forbid it came to that between them. Although, she smiled to herself at the thought, maybe she should simply let them fight it out. Like dogs, fighting might establish the pecking order and settle them down a bit. Yes, that might be the way to do it.

  Edward Wentworth was the elder of the brothers. At seventeen, he had grown into a studious young man. The size of his mental ability matched his height – he seemed to tower over Sophy's shorter frame. And Edward enjoyed teasing her as he had continued to grow and she had begun to “shrink.” He was tall and skinny, though he and his brother ate their weight in food each day. He would soon be the perfect picture of a willowy scholar. Still, he would have no problem attracting females. She saw the way the younger girls looked at him. He had a handsome profile, dark hair and eyes. He kept clean and tidy. And what was most attractive of all, he seemed entirely unaware of the female attention, though Sophy suspected he might not be as unaware as he liked to pretend. She had seen him primping in the mirror quite a bit lately. Especially before church services on Sundays. She would have to keep her eyes open to see which of the girls received his attentions.

  Thankfully, she did not yet have to worry about Freddy in this way. Frederick – or Freddy as everyone had called him since he was a small boy – was still very much a rambunctious youth even at the age of fifteen. He sometimes seemed younger than his years, being content to leave all of the burdens of growing older to his brother and sister. His light hair only grew lighter as he spent time in the sun. And he was happiest when he was out of doors, roaming the fields and hills surrounding Milverton. Freddy was impatient with being indoors, especially for lessons. This had been the source of much of the recent fighting, as Edward had become frustrated with his brother's inattention to the lessons he found so useful and interesting. What Edward found even more infuriating was that his brother could be quite brilliant when he chose to apply himself. But Freddy took every opportunity to abandon his work in favor of some outdoor mischief.

  If they kept up this arguing once they entered the house, she would send them outside again, Sophy decided. Freddy would love that. Edward would too, though he would be loath to admit it. Edward was trying to play the adult now that he was sev
enteen and readying for a life of study. This made him his father's favorite. Sophy knew her father wanted Edward to become a doctor like himself. He had no particular plans for Freddy. Sophy wasn't sure he'd thought much at all about his younger son. Sophy doubted their father even noticed that Freddy was growing up, too. To his father, Freddy was still a blond-haired little boy.

  That blond-haired little boy now came crashing into the front room.

  “Hello, Soph!” Freddy yelled, delighted as he always was to see his sister.

  “Hello, Freddy!” Sophy yelled back, unable to resist his high spirits. Sophy found herself being far too serious most of the time. She loved to laugh and be silly and, even when they were fighting. Her brothers gave her a good excuse to do so. Besides, even with her responsibilities, Sophy was still an older sister and could not resist an opportunity to tease her younger brothers.

  Edward winced. “I wish you wouldn't yell at each other like that. It's so childish.” Sophy smiled slyly and Freddy made a face. Then, in his best mock-serious voice, he intoned, “Good afternoon, dearest sister.” Sophy, from her position in the chair by the window, inclined her head in a slight queen-like gesture of acknowledgment and said, “Good afternoon, rambunctious younger brother.”

  Instead of taking the whole exchange in the spirit of fun with which it was intended, Edward decided to take offense at the mocking his brother and sister were giving him. He huffed to his chair and threw himself down in it.

  “Do you hear that, Sophy?” Freddy asked.

  “What, Freddy?”

  “Edward's sense of humor has flown away. There it went, out that open window, right over your head. I wonder if it will ever come back.” Freddy draped himself across the comfortable old sofa as he made this statement. He affected an attitude of sorrow, but mischief danced behind his eyes. Sophy – seeing that Edward was in no mood for teasing at the moment – wisely kept quiet.

  “Stop roasting me about everything, Freddy,” Edward was indignant which only served to antagonize his younger brother.

  “Stop being backward and humorless about everything and I wouldn't have to roast you.”

  “That's not fair!” Edward sat up straight in his chair. “I'm only trying to be serious sometimes, not like you...”

  “That's enough,” Sophy declared firmly from her seat at the window. Both boys quieted immediately. They knew when their sister was serious. She wasn't about to let them completely take over her afternoon. Especially not with the same argument they'd been having for weeks. Edward desiring to be serious and chafing at his brother's continuous ridicule and Freddy unable to resist teasing his brother about what he viewed as a fatal weakness toward sobriety. It was an insoluble problem – Sophy knew from experience trying to reconcile them these past weeks – that would only end in slammed doors and quite a lot of mumbling under their breath at every comment.

  Sometimes Sophy could not believe that they were both on the verge of manhood. They acted like little boys. She'd brought out this accusation last week in an attempt to shame them into better behavior, but it had backfired horribly. They had turned on her instead. As much as they hated each other at the moment, they hated being called little boys even more. Edward did try so hard to be grown up.

  As the boys got older, the future weighed more heavily on them. Their father had money, but not enough to support his children indefinitely. That was not the life either boy would choose for himself anyway. All three children were used to work. They were invigorated by it. It gave purpose to life, their father had bred them to believe. But what work to undertake was a big decision. Being the son of a well-off and beloved town doctor gave both boys more prospects than most of the other young men in the town.

  And what of her own prospects? What did her father plan for her life? Like Freddy, she wasn't sure her father had ever really considered her future. She was simply Sophy. Reliable Sophy. She was of average height and weight. Her hair was thick and glossy brown and held gentle waves when she ever let it out of the simple roll at the back of her neck. Her face wasn't distinguished by any specific features. They were all simply ordinary. And simply Sophy.

  Perhaps it was no wonder that her father never really thought about her. At least he'd never talked to her about any plans. She was twenty-three years old now. Perhaps the time for plans had passed.

  Over the last two years, Sophy had watched all of her friends get married and move away from Milverton. Only two months ago, Maria Smith, her oldest and dearest friend, had married Mr. Kenilforth right here in Saint Michael's Church. He was a London man she had met while on a visit to a cousin. Maria had been happy and Sophy certainly did not begrudge her that. But she also knew that Maria had been very lucky. Sophy had no London cousins to introduce her to eligible gentlemen. And those type of gentlemen rarely made their way to Milverton.

  The entirety of her social circle consisted of people older and younger than herself. She thought of the boys she had grown up with. They were like brothers to her. And many of them were now married in any case. No one thought of Sophy as marriage material. She could not picture any of them as potential husbands, either.

  Except for one. A light blush rose to her cheek as she thought about him. He was a handsome young man, but Sophy was unsure if he was thinking of marriage at all, much less marriage to her.

  Mr. Joshua Hollingson was the boys' tutor. He had come to Milverton only five months ago to take over the small curacy of Preston-Bowyer only one mile away from Milverton. They had been much in company together and Sophy had found him to be a wealth of intelligent conversation. She enjoyed their time together...

  “Ow!” Edward cried out, interrupting his sister's thoughts. Freddy had a grin on his face that held a pound's worth of mischief. Sophy let out a sigh.

  “Out, out of the house! Both of you! I don't want to see you again until supper.”

  The boys willingly obeyed. She could hear them as they argued all the way down the lane. In the meantime, Sophy would enjoy a precious few minutes of peaceful quiet – and a pleasant meditation on her visit with Mr. Hollingson tomorrow – before her brothers returned and the evening chaos began.

  Chapter II

  There is nothing so beautiful in all the world as my ship at sail, thought Captain Conrad Croft as he looked out over the deck from his position at the wheel. The crew scurried to and fro before him, pulling in the sails and readying for anchor. It was no more than they had done a thousand times over, and yet Connie could sense the excitement running through every sailor aboard.

  There were many reasons for this thrill of excitement. The first being that they were returning to England after three-quarters of a year away. It was hardly the longest service they'd seen away from England, but their latest had been a particularly trying passage and the men had grown increasingly dissatisfied.

  The Pleasant and her crew had been sent across the ocean to Jamaica earlier in the year. Connie had hoped, along with the rest of his hundred and forty-three men, that they would join the fleet there and earn the opportunity to take enemy ships. Anything they took would be prize money added to the meager pay from their Navy salaries. All the way across the ocean the crew had been in high spirits at the prospects before them.

  But when they had arrived in Jamaica, the Admiral had turned them right around and sent them back to England with a trade convoy. It was an important commission that showed the trust they placed in Connie and his crew, but it held no promise of reward. The men had grumbled all the way back home.

  But as they approached England, the men grew more excited. The Pleasant was scheduled for a week in Watchet harbor, where they were anchoring now. Then in a week's time they would sail around the south of England to reach Portsmouth. The Admiralty had called the ship in for repairs.

  Since the captain himself was going ashore this time – and since he knew the rare treat would somewhat assuage the crew's disappointment over the lost prize money – Connie had his first lieutenant and friend Brandon O'Brian
draw up a schedule to give the men each twelve hours' shore-leave throughout the week the ship was docked in Watchet harbor. When Connie had announced this plan to the crew yesterday, the mood had changed immediately to one of celebration and anticipation.

  It was infectious, though Connie did not need any prompting to be excited. This week was going to be a special treat for him as well as his crew. He was going home. What with one thing and another, fourteen years had passed since Connie had seen his childhood home in Milverton, Somerset. He had been back to England, of course, and his family had come to see him at various ports when they could travel. But time had never allowed him the leisure to travel back to his home.

  Now they were anchored in Watchet harbor, only fifteen miles north of Milverton. It would be an easy ride to his home. One he planned to make tomorrow morning at first light. Yesterday Lieutenant O'Brian had reminded Connie that he had been away from Milverton longer than he had ever lived there. Connie had been shocked to realize that, at twenty-seven years old, he had spent half his life at sea and away from his family.

  That made his homecoming all the sweeter. Connie smiled to himself as he thought of the look on his mother's face when he turned up at their door. Neither of his parents knew he was coming home. He hoped they would be pleased by his return. Though, knowing his parents, he had nothing to worry about.

  Connie's father was Mr. Harding Croft – the long time and much-beloved rector of Milverton. Shortly after taking his orders for the clergy at the age of twenty-three, Mr. Croft had married the pretty Miss Maria Harris of Oxford. They had moved to Milverton a year after their marriage on the promise of a post as curate of nearby Preston-Bowyer.

  So the newly-married Crofts had moved into the curate's house in the small hamlet. For three years, the couple lived there quite happily. Maria bore two healthy sons – Robert and Geoffrey – and showed herself a confident and caring wife and mother. Absent a nearby mother of her own, Maria turned to the women in her husband's flock. They petted and counseled the young wife through her confinements with all the wisdom of their long experience. They loved her as their own daughter.