And what I saw there was you.
My heart is yours, my dear Sophy. Wholly and completely. When I turned to examine myself, I found that you had – without my realizing it – carved yourself a niche there. But that heart aches to think I hope for too much, that I am too late to speak to you, that you have committed your heart to another man. Have you?
Hope will make me send this letter. Hope that you truly love me too is the one thing that serves as some fleeting remedy for my folly in letting you walk off my ship without telling you –
And the thought of returning to you, asking you to be mine, being with you always. These thoughts relieve some of the awful despair. I have no words to tell you – my dear Sophy (shall I ever tire of saying that?) – how I feel at this moment. Anxious, thrilled, hopeful. I can only trust that you know how I feel. And I believe you do.
I know not what harm I caused by turning away from you that day on the bank of the pond, and again at the wheel of my ship. You must know how much I wanted to lean down and touch your lips to mine. But, please forgive me, I stopped because I had convinced myself that you were promised to another man! I thought you deserved a better life than I can ever give you. And so I foolishly let you go.
And I am a fool. Even when you yourself had told me that you were a thinking and feeling being and you were the only one who could make your decisions... even then I did not give you the choice. Glorious Sophy! You told me, and still I tried to keep myself from you.
But no more. I have said what is in my heart. It is your decision now, Sophy. The simple truth is that I love you.
My time grows short. I must send this letter now if I am to send it at all. And even now I grow anxious of the step I am about to take. But the hole in my heart where you should be says I must, no matter my own anxieties. I await the very moment my ship docks in Portsmouth and I can fly again to you and ask you to be mine. I have begged leave of the Admiralty and will return to Milverton as soon as I am able. I will make you a formal offer then, my love.
For now, I can only beg that you will tend my heart while I am away from you.
Though I go to Portsmouth in body, my heart and soul stay in Somerset, safe in your care.
Until I see you again, know that –
I Love You,
Connie.
Sophy could hardly believe what she had just read. Her eyes scanned the closing over and over again. I love you. I love you. I love you. Every heartbeat seemed to echo the words. With a sob of joy, Sophy pressed the letter to her breast, willing the words to stain their ink on her heart.
Captain Croft – Connie – loved her.
He did. And he was coming back to tell her. He was coming back to Milverton for her. Yes. Yes. Yes. Only an hour ago Sophy had resigned herself to a world without him. And now the whole world lay before her – the whole world with Connie in it! It hardly seemed possible. He loved her.
But Mr. Hollingson did too.
Two offers of marriage in the space of an hour? Was ever a woman so blessed? Or so cursed? What should she do? How was she ever to decide which man to choose? Which man deserved her heart? Sophy was excited and anxious all at once. The future she'd never really thought about suddenly lay before her in the forms of two very different men.
Sophy stretched out on her back, the letter still clutched to her chest and the tickle of grass against her neck. She closed her eyes and soaked in the warmth of the sun. Which man did she love?
Chapter XXII
Connie must get to Milverton and tell Miss Wentworth – his dear Sophy – that he loved her. It was two weeks since he had sent his letter and his heart to her, and his naval duties had never seemed more onerous.
The Admiralty had taken its time in granting him leave and so Connie had had nothing to do in Portsmouth but think about Sophy. He had walked the dockyards where the Pleasant was being repaired at least a hundred times, trying to find some other occupation for his thoughts. But without his ship and without any specific orders, he was thrown on his own resources. And he found them quite abysmal.
O'Brian had helped somewhat, playing cards and drinking with Connie in the evenings. But the man had disappeared two days ago with only a note to say he hoped Connie was granted his leave and he would see him soon in Yarmouth. The Pleasant was to be docked there once her repairs were finished.
Without his friend to entertain him, Connie had discovered, for the first time in his fourteen years in the Navy, that he was altogether useless on land. So it had been a great relief this morning when the post had finally brought a letter from the Admiralty approving his leave. He'd had only to make a few arrangements about his crew, pack his things, and hire a horse.
Now he was thundering down the road in the direction of his home. Connie had the fleeting thought that he was probably riding the mare too hard. But he could not bear to move slowly. His future was waiting for him a hundred and twenty miles down the road.
Connie hoped he was not too late. As he had been writing the letter all those days ago, he had been struck with the awful fear that Sophy would marry the curate before she ever knew how he felt. It had been the reason for his haste in sending the letter. What if he was still too late? What if she had accepted the man and they were to be married? It did not bear thinking.
As he spurred the horse faster, Connie wondered why Milverton had to be so damned far away from Portsmouth.
Chapter XXIII
For a hundred and twenty miles Connie had been imagining their meeting, wondering how Sophy would receive him. Would she rush to him with open arms and tell him she loved him too? Or would she run the other way, already committed to another man? In all his speculation on this question, Connie never anticipated the scene he came upon once he finally found her.
It was Tuesday, a little over three weeks since he'd left Milverton. Connie came galloping into town, no desire this time to stroll through his childhood haunts. He stopped briefly at the rectory to shout hello to his astonished parents and stable his horse. Then he knocked at the Wentworth's door, heart pounding from more than the swift walk. A startled Doctor Wentworth informed him that Sophy had gone out for a walk.
Where could she have gone? For a moment he despaired of finding her. Deciding to trust to luck and sentiment, Connie started in the direction of the Old Mill, hoping to find her there. Were they so in sympathy? He had not been able to tell her when exactly he would return. Had she waited for him? Oh, he must find out soon.
All week he had agonized about the moment he would see Sophy again. Had his letter been enough to sway her opinion? He grew angry at his own actions now. How could he have been so callous in ignoring her feelings? He would apologize again and again if that's what she needed. Connie would do anything for her. Anything she needed to feel how fully and completely he loved her. He hoped he was not too late, that Sophy was not lost to him forever. Oh God, what would he do if she was?
All of these thoughts had passed his mind a thousand times since she had left him. He was normally a brave man, but in this he felt so unsure. He wanted both to know and not to know. If she was lost to him, he would return to a weary life aboard ship. Perhaps eventually his old joy on the seas would return, but he did not doubt that it would take a long time.
Connie almost lost his courage before he reached the Old Mill pond. Just this once he would run away, delay the moment of reckoning for fear that it would not be in his favor. Just this once he would give in to the voice of doubt in his head. It was singing...
No, that voice was not in his head. Someone was singing a tune that sounded oddly familiar. Connie stopped short, his eyes wide and his breath coming rapidly. A wave of emotion had swept suddenly over his body. That voice. It was Sophy's. She was somewhere close by and she was singing the song he had taught her. He wanted to rush to her and sweep her up in his arms. But some impulse stopped him before he could disturb her song.
Sophy had been shy of singing before. And now here she was singing out a tune loudly and for all to
hear. Such a happy, free sound. He wanted to see her this way, before she saw him. He wanted to store this happy moment in his mind, as he had done with the image of her at the wheel of his ship. So he crept through the trees around the pond as quietly as he could.
There she was. Sophy faced away from him, singing out over the water. She was dressed in a simple frock that fitted her well. Her hair was pulled loosely up on her head. And she was skipping stones again! Such a joyous sight and sound. His Sophy. His love. His heart. It was time he told her for himself.
Connie stepped out of the trees and onto the bank, still behind her.
“Practicing for our rematch, Miss Wentworth?”
At the sound of his voice, Sophy spun around so quickly that she nearly lost her balance. Connie took a step toward her to help but was overcome with a wave of uncertainty. They stood facing each other. She had stopped singing and the look on her face told him nothing. What should he do? He waited for some indication from her.
And then she spoke. Her words came in little gasps, as if she found it hard to breathe. “Yes, in fact.” Her tone told him nothing. Connie discovered that his heart had stopped beating while she spoke, while she told him how they would be together. “I am practicing for a rematch with a worthy opponent who had lost his courage, but seems to have recovered it.” She grinned at him and his heart started beating again. Connie stepped forward on legs unsteady with nervous tension.
“You are correct, Miss Wentworth. For a moment I had run away in despair and cowardice. But I have returned to correct that. Hand me a stone and we will have ourselves a rematch.”
“And what shall our wager be?” There was mischief in her eyes.
“A forfeit, I think. To be named by the winner on the occasion of a final victory.”
“I accept,” Sophy's gaze told him that her words held more significance than for only this stone-skipping battle. The thought made him dizzy. He lingered in her gaze a moment longer and then gestured to her.
“Ladies first, as always.” She skipped her stone with the fanfare of their previous competition, though much more was at stake here. Her stone hopped three times before dropping to the bottom of the pond. She turned to him and smiled again.
“Shall you match me, captain?”
“I shall try.” Connie bowed to her, then turned to the pond and concentrated. Though he was sure that a forfeit for her would be sweet, Connie wanted to win. He knew what he would do. He tossed the stone. One... two... three... four. He grinned and turned to Sophy, who answered with her own smile.
“You have won,” she pronounced. “What shall you ask of me in forfeit?”
Connie became suddenly serious. Now was the moment of truth. He took another step toward Sophy – she was so close now – and reached down to take her hands. He placed them over his heart.
“In forfeit I would like for you to answer a question.”
“And what is this question?” She whispered.
“Marry me?” Connie looked into Sophy's eyes and saw a joy that reflected his own. He felt tears start in his own eyes. “I love you, Sophy Wentworth. I want you to be my wife, my partner. I want to laugh with you and talk with you. I want to make you happy and take you on adventures. I want...”
And suddenly her lips were on his. Her kiss was fierce and possessive. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself into him. Connie's response matched hers. He pulled her as close to him as she could get. After a few long moments, Sophy dragged her head away and brought her hands up to cradle his face. His heart overflowed with the sweetness of the gesture.
“Yes. Yes, my dear love, I will marry you.” Then she leaned in and kissed him tenderly. It was only the lightest of touches, yet it set him on fire. Yes. Yes. Yes. His heart pounded out the word with every beat. The woman he loved was his.
After an exquisite moment in which time seemed to have disappeared, Connie pulled away. “I can hardly believe this. I thought I had lost you. I thought you would come back to Milverton and marry Mr. Hollingson and be lost to me forever.” The despair was clear in his voice.
“You did almost lose me.” Sophy had a teasing look in her eye.
Connie looked startled. “What?”
“I did almost marry Mr. Hollingson.”
“He offered for you?” Connie felt a physical pain at the thought. What had happened?
Sophy nodded. “He did. Your letter was in my pocket as he did so. It sat there unread while Mr. Hollingson asked me to marry him.” Connie let out the breath he did not realize he'd been holding.
“And what did you say?”
“In the moment, I was so confused about my own feelings. I asked him for more time to consider his proposal. Then I ran here and read your letter.”
“And you decided then?”
“By no means. My emotions were so tangled that I hardly knew myself. At times I wanted to marry him, at other times you. I made list after list in my head of what each of you were offering.”
“And then?”
“And then, when the balance sheet was equal between the two of you, I had to look to my own heart.”
“Sophy --”
“And my heart showed me the answer. It was you.”
“But why?” Connie asked. “Why choose me? Not that I will complain...”
She smiled softly. “I chose you, silly man, because Mr. Hollingson did not speak to me of love.” When Connie looked puzzled, she explained. “He spoke to me of prospects and security and family. All good things, yes, but nowhere did he mention again that he loved me. When I read your letter, love was all I found there.”
Connie was quiet. The responsibility to love her was something to take seriously. “Sophy, I believe you know my prospects. It will be a hard life, but I promise I will love you always. You will never have to doubt that.” He watched as tears sprung to her eyes.
“My dearest Connie, and you must remember always that it is you who have won me. No more nonsense about other men or losing me. We go through life together now.” They smiled at each other.
“What will you tell the poor curate whose heart you have stolen?” Connie asked, morbid curiosity gripping him.
“I have already told him that I esteem him highly, but I cannot marry him.” Then it occurred to her. “How did you even know about Mr. Hollingson?” Sophy was curious.
Connie sighed. “At the dinner party. My mother and Mrs. Hancock were being none too subtle in observing the two of you together. The conversation slipped quite naturally to the expectation of your marriage.” Connie paused. “I believe it was at that moment I truly began to understand myself, my own affections. And at the same moment considered you lost to me.”
“And so you never bothered to ask!” Sophy shook her head. “Silly man. You must make me a promise, now that I am yours.”
“What promise?”
“If ever again in our lives you see that I would like you to kiss me, as you have seen twice now, you must not fail to do it. No more excuses. And I believe I am owed some kisses.”
“And I believe I have never been happier to make a promise!” Connie leaned down and kissed her again. But something tickled at his mind. “Does your father know about me?”
“Yes, once I knew my heart, I talked to him about you both.”
“And what did dear Papa say?” Connie was worried.
“He knows you for a good man, and so he was happy for me. He will be sad when I leave – he has come to rely on me so much – but he made a point to tell me that I mustn't let him hold me back from the life I deserve, from you. He will be fine. As will the boys...”
“Do they yet know?”
“Not yet. I am not quite certain how to tell them.”
“Surely, they will not object to me!” Connie grinned, mischief in his eyes.
“Oh no, I have no doubt that they will love you. You have enthralled them with your tales. And won their hearts forever by bringing them aboard ship for a day. They will be overjoyed at the prospect of
a naval captain as a brother. That is not the problem. No, I worry about them when I am gone.”
“Dear Sophy.” It was time for Connie to comfort her. “They will survive. As will you,” he added. “Besides, there are plenty of boys on the Pleasant who would adore having an older sister. You may adopt some of them.”
“Shall I be aboard with you, then?”
“But of course! I remember a certain woman who told me that if I truly loved my wife, I would let her aboard my ship if she so desired. So, does my wife desire to be aboard ship with me?”
Sophy hugged him tight. “Yes. Yes. I could not bear to part from you now.”
“Nor I, you, my love.”
“But, oh Connie, what of your parents?” Sophy had forgotten about the other side of the equation.
“Well,” he laughed. “If my hasty return did not alert them already, we shall go and tell them now.”
“What if they do not approve?” Sophy looked vulnerable. Connie took her face firmly between his hands and made her look him in the eyes, as she had done to him a moment ago. “Sophy, listen to me. I promise you now, there is nothing to be feared – nothing – when we are together.”
Her smile was all the answer he needed. Connie kissed her gently.
“Now, my dear Sophy,” he turned toward the road, “tuck your arm right here into mine. I am only comfortable when you are there. And let us go and tell the town our happy news.”
One Month Later
“Three cheers for the captain's wife!” Someone yelled out over the main deck of the Pleasant. The voices of the crew rang out in loud huzzahs that carried out over the still water around them.
“Well, Mrs. Croft, the captain's wife, how do you like your welcome on board the ship?” Connie grinned at her. Even after a month together, his grin still made her blood speed up in her veins.
Sophy grinned back and, with a theatrical sigh, said, “I guess it will have to do.”
My Dear Sophy Page 18