My Dear Sophy

by Kimberly Truesdale

  “Exactly.” She gave him a distracted smile and fell silent. After a moment, his curiosity got the better of him.

  “Miss Wentworth, you seem preoccupied. Might I ask if everything is all right? We have found your brother. Is something else the matter?”

  Recalled to herself, Sophy said, “Oh, quite all right, thank you.” And after a pause. “I was racking my mind for some recollection of you. I fear it has been more years than I care to count and my memory does not wish to cooperate.”

  Connie heard her unspoken apology and reassured her. “It has, indeed, been many years, Miss Wentworth. Fourteen, actually. I was a young lad of thirteen years old running wild with my two older brothers. We were a sore trial to our parents, I fear. Much as your young brother seems to be.”

  “Yes, Freddy is a little older than you were, but he still has an incredible capacity for getting into scrapes.” Sophy shook her head. Connie noticed how her long and loose hair moved in waves at the motion, like the rippling of water behind his ship.

  “Fourteen years,” Sophy returned to her previous thought. “I was eight years old. It does not surprise me now that I hardly remember you. The social circles of eight-year-old girls and thirteen-year-old boys do not often overlap, even in the confined world of Milverton.”

  “Well, I shall endeavor to remedy that on this happy visit,” Connie resolved. “The social circles of men and women in their second decades rotate much nearer each other.” Their smiles met and Connie thought again how much he would enjoy this visit home for more reasons than the joy it would bring his parents.

  “I must thank you again sincerely, captain, for helping my family today,” Miss Wentworth said in a serious tone.

  “I accept your thanks. But I must tell you that I hardly knew I was helping anyone. Not much that is praiseworthy about not realizing you are helping, eh?”

  Miss Wentworth shook her head, cheerfully dismissing his nonchalance. “Nevertheless, you must resign yourself to accepting my family's thanks, no matter how unworthy you consider yourself. You may be sure that my father will take every opportunity to remind you of your good deed. As will I.” She smiled as she pronounced this sentence, and they once again fell into a comfortable silence.

  “Might I ask how the lad managed to have the whole of Milverton out looking for him?”

  Miss Wentworth offered an exasperated sigh and a weary smile before she began to tell him about the events of the previous week. The two new friends covered the last miles back to the town in easy conversation about the trials that young boys presented to parents, older sisters, and naval captains.

  Chapter X

  As Sophy and Captain Croft reached Milverton, they could see a crowd of townspeople waiting for them. Well, not for them. They had been waiting for Freddy and were now gathered around him. Sophy hardly had time to spot her brother before a joyful cry went up and, as a body, the crowd turned toward her and the captain.

  The cry had come from Mrs. Croft, who was now hurrying – no, actually running, Sophy smiled – toward where her son now stood next to Sophy. With a grin on his face, the captain strode boisterously forward and swept the small lady into his arms. The force of their joyous meeting swung the pair clear around and left Mrs. Croft breathless with laughter as her feet returned to the ground.

  Reverend Croft, who seemed to be almost in a daze, reached the pair and embraced them both. He was too excited to contain his joy and turned to the townspeople to announce in his good-humored, stentorian tones, “It's my boy, Connie!”

  Sophy cheered along with the townspeople, who could not help but rejoice in their rector's good fortune. She witnessed all of this with a happy heart and smile on her face. This morning that had begun so frantically had now turned into the best kind of surprise. Two sons returned home. The townspeople had, once again, helped immensely. Now she watched them looking at the happy scene play out among the three Crofts. She watched them lovingly observing and discussing a child returned to the fold.

  And what a return it had been. Sophy doubted she would ever forget the pure joy she had seen on Mrs. Croft's face when she had spotted her boy. The woman had moved, skirts, age, and all, like Sophy had never seen before. Something had made her almost fly across the path toward her son. And Sophy hadn't missed his expression, either. The captain had so easily strode the few steps and picked up his mother. They had laughed so joyously as they spun around. Unlike the townspeople, Sophy had been close enough to hear them exchange quiet endearments as they clung to each other. And then Reverend Croft had stepped up and embraced the pair, completing the joyful picture. It hadn't all been quite how a proper family greeting should be conducted, but Sophy liked that somehow.

  And besides, she thought to herself, when have we ever stood on proprieties in this town? Only when we have some visitor, a term that could hardly be applied to a man whose parents were beloved members of the community and who had himself spent the first years of his life here. Even though she did not remember him from her childhood, Sophy still found that, when she thought about it, Captain Croft already felt like a familiar friend. In the short time it had taken them to return along the Milverton road, they had talked together as if they had known each other for years. It was curious, she thought. How could I be so comfortable with someone I have only just met?

  Sophy had spent her whole life in this town and was used to people coming in and out of each others' houses, caring for others' children, helping with the harvests. No one was ever alone. The Wentworths and Crofts stood upon even less ceremony. The townspeople came and went at all hours from rectory and doctor's house alike, tending their spiritual and bodily ailments. The two families lived only a few steps apart and were constantly dropping in on each other, especially the two patriarchs, who frequently consulted about patients. Long ago they had both realized they were in the same business: caring for people. Both were there in birth, death, and trials. They shared the joys the sorrows of their people and looked to each other for support through it all. Sophy was sure they would share in the excitement of today – both good and bad.

  That thought recalled Sophy to the fact that the joyous reunion of the Crofts was not the only event of the morning. She sighed aloud and prepared herself for an afternoon of smoothing hurt feelings and calming her family members of their tempers.

  Sophy watched as the mob of townspeople scattered to their various corners of Milverton, there to share stories of the exciting morning they had passed and to complete their interrupted Saturday chores. Sophy made her way toward her father and Freddy. The horse was gone, probably taken to the stable by a kind friend. Yet again today, Sophy sent up blessings for the wonderful people that surrounded her. As she saw her father's stormy face, Sophy tacked on to her blessings a prayer for forbearance, whether for herself or her father she left up to the Almighty.

  * * *

  Though happily occupied with his own family reunion, Connie was still aware when Miss Wentworth moved away from him. Over his mother's head he watched her walk back toward her own family. He saw the slight hesitation before she rejoined them and imagined that she had sighed and rolled her eyes.

  Connie smiled privately imagining that gesture. He'd already seen it a few times as they had walked and talked about her brother, the one who'd caused so much trouble this morning. Connie was quite enchanted by her willingness to laugh at the situation. It was something he himself always tried to do. He fancied it made him quite an easygoing captain. But Connie couldn't recall if he'd ever experienced that kind of easy humor in a woman before. Except for his mother. He looked at her dear little frame. All the women he knew had been highly melodramatic. Every little thing was cause for an uproar. It was part of the reason the men did not like to have women on board the ship. Yet Sophy had kept a level head, even as she had pictured the worst that could have happened to her brother.

  In the middle of his musing, Mrs. Croft put her arm through his. She smiled up at him and suggested they walk to the house for som
e luncheon. Connie patted her arm lovingly and thought that his mother was the best female he knew. And her first thought was always for bodily comfort in the form of food.

  It was very good to be home.

  The trio made their way slowly back to the rectory. Connie was flattered at the outpouring of love and welcome they met. Every few feet they were stopped by someone else offering blessings and joy to the reunited family. Mrs. Croft was like a peacock, proud of her handsome son who had done so well for himself and who she could now show off to her friends.

  As each person stopped to say hello, Connie carefully placed names and faces. All the years he'd been gone, he had still exchanged long and detailed letters with his mother. He had made them as frequent as being on the other side of the world would allow. His parents knew of his trials and triumphs and he knew much of the Milverton gossip.

  In the last letter he'd learned that Doctor Wentworth had delivered his eighth baby of the month, which everyone considered a new Milverton record – and had kept both doctor and rector in an endless round of deliveries and baptisms. And his mother had said a new curate had recently moved to Preston-Bowyer. His mother had said that the young curate had made quite an impression on Reverend Croft, and apparently on all the girls in the village. His mother had also reported that this was expected to be a good harvest season. That meant that many of the families would have an easy winter, hopefully without too much sickness.

  On those long voyages across the oceans to the other side of the world, those little tidbits of gossip helped him immensely. They were signs that he still had a way to reach his beloved family. On those cold nights and hot days when the wind wasn't behaving and the men were even worse, during those times he could be very lonely. Especially now that he was a captain, separated from his men by the invisible but very real barrier of authority, no longer truly comfortable being below decks with them, and afraid to distinguish anyone too much by repeatedly having them at his own dining table. At those lonely times he read and reread the letters from his mother, remembering exactly how his mother and father would speak, imagining their faces as they related all the news from home. That had kept him sane on more than one long, dark night.

  And so, even though he longed to have his mother and father to himself, to soak up as much of their love as he could before venturing back to the sea, Connie forgave the townspeople their enthusiasm because he knew that it stemmed from their genuine love and affection for his parents.

  Soon enough, the nuclear group had made it back to the rectory where they found a fine and simple luncheon set out for them. Connie enjoyed a few bites of the blessedly fresh food – even being the one in charge of a naval ship didn't excuse him from the monotony of shipboard fare, not to mention the preserved nature of it – before the questions began in earnest.

  “Your return is such a surprise, Connie! However did you manage it?” His mother asked.

  “Yes,” the Reverend chimed in, “you haven't abandoned the sea life, have you son?”

  Chuckling, Connie responded, “Of course not, father. Besides, I believe His Majesty's Navy would find me, no matter where in the world I tried to go. Did you know that in Jamaica we picked up a man from Scotland who'd already been pressed once and thought he'd made his escape?” Connie shook his head, commiserating with the unfortunate fellow. “His Majesty is loath to let any man leave his clutches.”

  “Poor man,” Mrs. Croft sighed.

  “Nonsense, my dear. He must do his duty and fight the enemies of the crown,” Reverend Croft had quite decided opinions on doing one's duty, especially to God and the government.

  “I am afraid the problem will only worsen as the war continues,” Connie sighed. “There are never enough sailors to fully man all our ships. We lose so many to disease, nevermind our battle engagements with the French.” All three fell into silent meditation on this point. He could train the men for battle, help them stay alive in the midst of gunfire, but it was disheartening to know that he could do virtually nothing to stop the ravaging of disease.

  “Oh my dear,” Mrs. Croft began, “what a sad topic. So many mothers...” She trailed off. Connie knew that his tenderhearted mother was thinking of all the mothers who had lost their sons and feeling grateful that she was not yet among that number. “I am an extremely lucky woman.” She smiled at her son. “And one who still has not been offered an answer. What brings you back home so unexpectedly, my dear son?”

  “Ah, yes --” Reverend Croft began.

  “No! No!” His wife cried out, waving her hand in her husband's face. “You are not to speak, my love, until Connie has offered us his tale. You will only drive him once again from the point and my mother's heart will be unequal to the task of waiting.”

  Reverend Croft made an exaggerated show of pinching his lips together and motioning for his son to speak. Connie could see the mischief in both his parents' eyes. They were happy scolding each other. It was something they had done for all of Connie's life, and it was how he could tell if they ever spoke in true anger. Mrs. Croft adored playing the put-upon wife, patiently bearing with her husband's silly whims. And Reverend Croft had perfected the look of a hen-pecked husband. He wore it now as his son began to tell what had brought him back to Milverton after a fourteen year absence.

  “When I last wrote you, mother, had I mentioned that we were headed to the West Indies?” His parents both nodded their heads.

  “Well, I thought we would join the fleet out there for awhile, have a nice cruise on the Pleasant. As my first real command aboard the ship, I thought we'd be assigned some small duties around the islands. But when we arrived, the admiral turned us right around and sent us as a convoy ship back to England! I must say that the men were sorely disappointed. As was I.”

  “Why were you disappointed? Did you all not want to see Mother England again?” Mrs. Croft asked, only half joking. She had always stayed close to home and could not quite understand her son's desire to be so far away.

  “Frankly, no,” Connie laughed. “Aside from the rampant disease in the islands, the men much prefer Jamaica to Plymouth. Much more opportunity for actual work. Not to mention prize money. We rarely meet French or Spanish ships in the middle of the ocean or in an English port. And on convoy, we could not pursue those ships even if we spotted them. That opportunity for prize money from the ships we take is what motivates most of the men to stay with me. Take that away and the voyage becomes very much more difficult in all respects.” Connie became reflective. “I guess I never quite understood the burden of command Captain Howell suffered when we were on the Baron. Trying to keep a crew together and, if not quite happy, at least not unhappy enough to mutiny.”

  They all three shuddered at that word. “Don't mention mutiny, son,” the Reverend begged. “Your mother and I live in fear that something will happen to you and that is one of the worst things, especially now that you have command of your own ship.”

  Though it was a real fear, especially as the Navy became more desperate for sailors and less able to pay them, Connie tried to reassure his parents. “No need to worry, father. I try to run a strict but fair ship. My sailors have redress for their complaints and I have not yet had to issue public punishment. I count myself quite a lucky man, all in all.”

  “As you should,” his father agreed.

  “I cannot condone the war,” his mother added, “but it has brought you much success, so I must be thankful to it for something.”

  “To the Navy.” Connie raised his glass in a toast.

  “The Navy.” His parents echoed. When they had taken a drink, his mother piped up again.

  “And yet we still have not established what exactly has brought you home!”

  “Patience was never your strong suit, mother,” Connie said, laughing heartily.

  “No, it is not. So please have mercy and do not delay your explanation any longer!” She pleaded.

  “Well, all right, mother,” Connie conceded, winking at his father. “The trade co
nvoy brought us into Watchet, where we received orders to Portsmouth. The journey will only take us a few days' sailing – depending on the winds – so I decided to remain at Watchet with the express purpose of surprising you and father. I left O'Brian in charge and here I am.” Connie made a flourish to present his person.

  “And here you are,” his father beamed at him. “For a few blessed days. We shall endeavor to make the most of them.”

  “Here! Here!” Connie toasted. Again they raised their glasses together as laughter filled the room.

  * * *

  Down the road at the Wentworth house, the mood was much less exuberant and the family was less than thrilled with their own reunion. In contrast to the warm welcome the townspeople had offered Connie, stopping to shake his hand and pat him on the back, the same people had largely avoided the cluster of Wentworths. No one dared disturb them.

  Though they were left alone by the townspeople, Doctor Wentworth refrained from speaking about Freddy's disappearance until the family – who had all missed their breakfast and were now quite hungry, as well as being tired and angry – had partaken of their luncheon. Sophy was grateful for this, not only because the effort of searching and worrying had quite famished her, but also because she hoped a meal would give everyone a chance to reflect and calm themselves.

  Her parent certainly seemed to be reflecting on something. He left them all in an uncomfortable silence during the meal. A few times Edward tried to begin a conversation about that naval gentleman who had come to town. But each time he was met with unenthusiastic responses from his siblings and quickly dropped the subject. Sophy felt sorry for him, but she was also occupied in reflecting on the whirlwind morning that had passed. A brother lost and found again and a new gentleman – a handsome and charming one, at that – come to town. Not only that, Captain Croft had been responsible for the return of her brother. She must let her father know this detail as soon as she could. He at least owed the gentleman a word of thanks.