Sophy lost herself in this daydream for a moment, until her rational mind reasserted itself. It would not be a romantic life at all. She would probably only end up wet and cold. Sophy sighed softly and turned her mind to the walk.
“It feels good to walk.”
“I agree,” Mr. Hollingson said. “It's such a lovely day, before the summer leaves us completely.” There was a wistful note in his voice.
“You know, I dreaded sitting in your cottage this afternoon.”
Mr. Hollingson looked at her with alarm. “Am I really such an ogre?”
Realizing her mistake Sophy laughed and said, “Oh, not because of you. Only because I have spent so much time indoors with Mrs. Coombe this afternoon.”
Mr. Hollingson understood at once and said, with a heavy dose of amusement in his voice, “Ah, I see. It was not me in particular, but merely the thought of being offered yet another slice of cake!”
“Exactly!” The two laughed at the shared joke.
“I should have rolled up to your door from her cottage for the amount of cake I consumed. But I do always feel so badly about refusing it,” Sophy said.
“Yes,” Mr. Hollingson agreed. “For she will not eat unless you do! And it is her one pleasure in life – as she likes to tell everyone. And so I feel obliged to continue eating all the while I am there. It is a wonder she herself does not weigh more, if she is using every visit to eat as much cake as she can. She makes it seem as if it is such a delicacy and yet, I suspect, she munches her way through an entire cake every day. She is never short of visitors, I am sure!”
“I know for certain that her grandchildren run over to her house whenever they can, being assured of a sweet treat for their pains.”
“I believe there may be worse inducements for visiting a family member.”
“Just so,” Sophy laughed. They fell again into a comfortable silence and continued walking arm in arm. Sophy thought of the simple joy one must take in life. Mrs. Coombe loved her cake. What did Mr. Hollingson love? Sophy wondered.
After a few steps, she broke the silence again. “When I am as old as Mrs. Coombe, I shall delight in cheerfully imposing my will on all who come to visit me in my little cottage.”
“Yes, I see the horrible picture very clearly. Your family will visit you only because you impose the happy tyranny of your absolute love and adoration. They will gather at your knees while you tell them stories of your girlhood and feed them more sweets than they should eat in a week. The doctor will despair of your health and his as he gets quite fat eating your cake. And you will torture the poor young curate on a weekly basis, knowing he will be powerless to resist you.”
Though his tone was light, Sophy's breath caught. His dream of her future seemed to end there, with the enthrallment of the young curate. Sophy confusedly remembered the look she had surprised in his face earlier. Could it be? Could Mr. Hollingson love her? Was love what she felt for him?
“I should dearly love to see that picture when it happens in life as in that dream,” Mr. Hollingson spoke softly, his voice heavy with meaning. Sophy looked up at him, trying to read his face. “By then, I, too, will be old, perhaps rector of Milverton. And I will have much advice for that young, enslaved curate.”
As he uttered the last words, he turned his gaze fully upon Sophy's upturned face. His expression had become serious. Sophy felt the tinge of a blush creep to her cheeks. What was he saying? His gaze was so intense.
Sophy had quite forgotten where they were, and so she did not see the root of the tree upon which she caught her toe. She would have pitched completely forward onto the path had not Mr. Hollingson, still holding her arm, pulled her back.
The momentum of his action spun her toward him. He grunted as the air was knocked from his lungs when she fell into his chest. Sophy's form was flush against him. She was breathing hard, her chest pushing against his as she inhaled deeply. His arms had instinctively gone around her, pulling her into a hug. She knew she should let him go. This wasn't proper at all. If the boys should come back! But yet, she could not will herself away from him.
Sophy looked up at Mr. Hollingson and saw him swallow hard. She was fascinated by the movement of his throat. She could see the dark stubble there and idly wondered how it would feel against her cheek. His arms were around her still. Each breath pressed her breasts into his solid chest. She was acutely aware of him. All of him. She had been this close to a grown man before, but always in the capacity of a nursemaid. Never before had she been so strongly pulled into an embrace. It felt comfortable. A smile played across her lips at that thought. Comfortable. I could stay here, she thought. Stay here in the circle of his arms. Quite happily.
A small, private smile crossed her lips.
“Miss Wentworth.” It was only a whisper, but in their nearness she could hear it. Slowly, she raised her head to look at him, the small smile still on her lips. Mr. Hollingson's eyes had dropped to examine those lips and Sophy had the overwhelming desire to kiss him. He pulled his gaze up to her eyes, asking the question. She answered him by unconsciously dropping her eyes to his mouth. At the same moment, her lips parted and her head inclined slightly to the side.
Mr. Hollingson leaned in, simultaneously tightening the circle of his arms and bringing her closer to him. She could feel his erratic breath on her cheek.
And then a voice came crashing through their haze.
“SOPHY!”
Chapter IV
“Sophy! Help!” The panicked cry came from farther down the path, breaking the peaceful afternoon silence that had descended around Sophy and Mr. Hollingson. They quickly broke apart, both blushing furiously and unable to look at each other. The cry came again.
“Sophy! Help!” It began to register that her brothers were in distress. She moved in the direction of the cry.
“I'm coming!” She yelled as loudly as she could.
“That sounded like Edward,” Mr. Hollingson said, close on her heels. He sounded as anxious as she felt.
“They better not be playing about,” Sophy mumbled the threat under her breath.
A few more long strides showed them that the boys were not joking and genuinely in need of help. They came upon Edward looking at a hole in the ground. Freddy was nowhere to be seen.
“What? Edward, what's happened?” Sophy gasped.
“He... he just fell.” Edward looked stricken as he gestured toward the hole. She hurried forward to the place that Edward had indicated. Afraid of what she would see, Sophy looked down. Mr. Hollingson moved beside her and followed her gaze.
Oh God. There was her youngest brother. The baby she had helped to raise after their mother had died. The brother she would give her own life for. There was her baby brother at the bottom of a deep hole.
And the damn fool was grinning.
And waving at her. She sighed with a rush of angry relief. They hadn't been playing, but Freddy also didn't appear to be dead. She had not yet determined if this was an entirely good thing.
“Hello, Soph!” Freddy said cheerily. “So nice of you to drop by.” He giggled at his own joke. No one else did. Good lord, the silly boy was making horrible jokes while her heart was still beating out of her chest with the remains of panic.
Mr. Hollingson stepped into the fray on her behalf, saying almost angrily, “Frederick, tell us what has happened and if you are all right.”
Freddy sobered and responded immediately. “Edward and I were walking and I saw this little cleared area. I came over here and the ground gave way. I fell to the bottom and Edward started yelling. I am rather in over my head.” Edward snorted with laughter at his brother's joke. Sophy ignored him.
“So, I will go to the cottage and get some rope.” Mr. Hollingson was already on his way out of the clearing, moving swiftly toward his cottage not far away. Sophy appreciated the decisive action. Her mind was still paralyzed by the recent panic.
“Sophy?” Freddy's voice came sheepishly from the hole.
“Yes, Fredd
y,” Sophy said with stiff tones.
“Um... there might be a problem.” Sophy's eyes narrowed as she peered into the dark hole, attempting to see the expression on her brother's face. What was he going to pull now? “What problem, Freddy?”
“Well... in the little tumble I took, I hurt my leg and wrist.” He seemed reluctant to admit his injuries and was no longer laughing. “So I might need more help than a rope.”
Sophy was alarmed again. He was alive, but hurt. Her anger evaporated in her concern for him. She knelt down and stuck her head in the hole. “What's wrong with your leg and wrist? Are they broken?” This could present a problem.
“I don't think so. I can slowly move them, but...”
Sophy nodded her head and finished his sentence. “But you shouldn't put unnecessary pressure on them just in case.” She sat back on her heels and considered. How could they get him if he couldn't climb out? The well was too narrow for someone else to go down beside him.
While she pondered this problem, Mr. Hollingson returned with the rope. He began securing one end to the steadiest looking tree in the clearing. Edward went to offer some help, eager to do something to ease his guilt that Freddy was the one injured and at the bottom of the well.
“Mr. Hollingson,” Sophy said from her seated position next to the well. “I'm afraid that Freddy has injured his leg and wrist in the fall and can't climb out by himself. He shouldn't use his wrist until I can be sure it isn't broken.”
“What if we secured the rope around his waist and I hauled him out? Edward could help. It shouldn't be too difficult.”
This seemed to be the best solution. So they set about putting the plan into action. Mr. Hollingson tied a loop at the free end of the rope, one large enough for Freddy to slip through. Then he lowered the rope into the hole and explained to Freddy what he must do. Freddy got the rope in place and held onto it with his good hand.
Mr. Hollingson stepped into place a few paces back from the hole. Edward took up a position behind him. Both men gripped the rope.
“Are you ready? We're going to start pulling slowly.”
“Go ahead,” Freddy called from the depths of the well. The rope remained slack for a few feet and then pulled tight. Sophy could see the tension in Mr. Hollingson's face and arms as Freddy's full weight settled onto the rope. Freddy was certainly heavier than he had anticipated. His tallness tended to disguise how much he weighed. The two men pulled a few more inches at a time, moving faster until Sophy estimated that Freddy was a few feet off the bottom of the well.
Freddy let out an agonized cry that caused Edward to let go of the rope. Mr. Hollingson tried to stop it before Freddy fell all the way to the bottom again, but the rope slid through his bare hands. Sophy heard him suck in a breath.
Sternly, he barked out at Edward, “Pick up the rope. I can't hold it by myself.” Chastised, Edward did as he was told.
Sophy had dropped to her knees at her brother's cry, looking into the dark well. She called out, “Freddy? Are you all right? What has happened?”
“I'll be okay,” he said in a thin, strained voice. “I hit my leg on the side. I'm sorry for yelling but the pain caught me by surprise.” As he spoke, his voice grew nearer and nearer. He was almost at the surface. Close enough for Sophy to grab on to his shirt and begin to haul him up. While Edward held the rope in case he fell back again, Mr. Hollingson moved to help Sophy. They pulled Freddy free of the hole and into a standing position.
The boy looked a little pale. A quick check told Sophy that he was not bleeding. She had him slowly flex his leg and arm. Good. He could still move everything. It appeared that he may have bruised his knee or pulled a muscle. He should be able to walk, though, since there was no way they could carry him home. The wrist was swelling, but again, he could still move it. Papa would have to look at it, of course, but to Sophy it appeared as if it would heal quickly. As long as the silly boy didn't get into any more trouble before it did. How one boy could be so utterly exasperating, she didn't know. But she saved her scolding for later.
For now, they must discover a way to get Freddy home. Mr. Hollingson wound the rope as the siblings began experimenting. They all laughed as Freddy draped one arm over each sibling and began to limp out of the clearing. Sophy was too short for Freddy to lean on. It was a very lopsided progress they were making, like a five-legged horse. Mr. Hollingson took a few strides toward them and offered his services as a “crutch of the first rate.”
At the first lurching step of this group, Freddy overbalanced and almost fell. Mr. Hollingson reached out to grab him. As his hands met the cloth of Freddy's shirt, Sophy heard him suck in a quick breath and saw him blanch.
“Mr. Hollingson, what has happened to your hands?” Sophy asked, a note of alarm in her voice.
“It is nothing.” He shook his head.
“It is clearly something,” Sophy pursued. “I have attended many a sick man. And a man does not flinch and suck in his breath like that unless he is in some pain.” And trying to hide it, she thought. “So stop pretending you are all right and tell me what it is.” Sophy used her best voice of command. Even the stubbornest of men bowed before that voice. It held an element of strength that said she would have her way. At the same time, it was a tone of care, promising that she would attend to whatever problem he had.
Mr. Hollingson gave in and held his palms out to her. “The rope. My hands.”
“Oh, of course,” Sophy said, as if he'd informed her that the sun was shining. It dawned on her right away. “When Edward dropped the rope...” He nodded.
“Well, Mr. Hollingson, please disengage yourself from my brother. We must tend your hands.” That tone of authority again.
“But... your brother...” He began to stutter.
“Freddy and Edward will muddle along fine. This will not be the first time they have carried each other home. And, despite my hopes, it will probably not be the last time either.” The boys had the good sense to look abashed. “You may help Freddy as far as the cottage, but then we must see to your hands.”
And so the group limped along to the curate's cottage, falling into an unsteady rhythm as they went. Sophy walked behind. Now that the crisis had passed, she was free to let her mind drift again. She admired Mr. Hollingson's strong arm supporting her brother, its muscles flexing under the pale flesh. That arm had been around her not long ago. She wanted to feel it around her again.
Sophy blushed at her own desire. She knew a lady was not supposed to think of such things, was not supposed to carefully examine the muscles of a man, was certainly not supposed to notice how strong his shoulders looked or how shapely his backside appeared under the fabric of his trousers. Her blush deepened. Sophia Elizabeth Wentworth, she mentally chastised herself. Please control yourself. You are not a naive young miss to fall for male charms. You should be concentrating on helping Freddy. And yet...
Mr. Hollingson had been ready to embrace her. And she had been more than ready to embrace him. It had been a wonderful feeling, to be held in his arms. To be wanted like that. Sophy had little experience of such things. Milverton was simply too small. There were no men she had ever felt like this about. Oh sure, a few hasty embraces with some of the boys her age, but nothing serious. Nothing that made her feel hot and cold at the same time.
But here was a man who did make her feel like that, who'd given her something new.
These thoughts occupied her until they reached the curate's cottage. Mr. Hollingson disengaged himself apologetically. Sophy instructed the boys to begin their way homeward, walking slowly and carefully. Freddy should lean as much as possible on Edward.
As the two boys gingerly started on their way back to Milverton, Sophy turned toward the cottage and found Mr. Hollingson looking at her. The smile that played along his lips disappeared as he became aware of her gaze on him. They looked at each other for a moment, until Sophy recalled them to their purpose.
Stepping toward the cottage, she said, “Let's bandage those hands
. We'll need some linens and some warm water.”
A few moments only served to acquire these items. Sophy stood by the kitchen table, the water and linen next to her and Mr. Hollingson in front of her. The afternoon sun gave her enough light to see his injured hands. She turned his palms gently upward and peered closely at them. The nearness of him – after what had happened earlier – was almost too much. She must concentrate on cleaning and mending his wounds. Her fingers gently prodded his raw flesh.
He attempted levity. “So how bad is it, doctor? Is it fatal?”
Sophy smiled, laughter behind her eyes. “I think you'll live, Mr. Hollingson.”
He became suddenly serious. “Joshua, please.”
The laughter disappeared from her eyes as Sophy carefully scanned his face. He was asking her to call him by his Christian name. She hesitated a moment longer before giving a small nod and smile, acquiescing to the intimacy of his name. “Joshua.”
She still held his hands in hers as she looked at him and spoke his name. He seemed to disregard the pain they were causing him as he turned them to grasp hers. He looked down and rubbed his thumbs over the soft parts of her inner wrist. The sensuality of that action nearly made her knees buckle. She had never been touched like that. So tender and so intimate. Something as mundane as a wrist and yet it could make her feel so vulnerable and naked. He must feel her pulse pounding.
“Sophy,” he whispered. He hadn't asked to use her name, but Sophy did not mind the intimacy. Her name sounded so natural on his lips.
Sophy dragged her eyes up to his. It seemed natural to incline her head to the side. She was ready to embrace him, as before. He slowly leaned toward her.
Sophy's eyes drifted closed as he leaned closer. She could feel his breath, warm on her face. And then his lips touched hers. Soft. And gentle. Only the whisper of a touch at first. Their lips parted and touched again as they explored each other, discovered what felt right.
My Dear Sophy Page 3