The Invention of Sophie Carter

by Samantha Hastings

  “I’m sure you did.”

  Aunt Bentley smiled at this and then laughed derisively. “Spark, indeed. Nonsense!”

  Sophie turned her head to hide her own smile. She felt more than a spark of feeling for Ethan. It was more like a bonfire—wild and out of control.

  For the first time ever, Sophie felt pity for her aunt. No one loved her. Sophie certainly didn’t. Mariah was trying to, but she was continually rebuffed. Charles seemed indifferent in her presence, and her husband apparently hadn’t loved her. The only people who loved Aunt Bentley were dead: her father; her mother; and her sister, who’d died alone and in the direst poverty.

  How lonely it must be not to be loved.

  It certainly was Aunt Bentley’s own fault. She’d refused to take care of her sister’s children, and even now she was only willing to accept one of them. Aunt Bentley was more worried about her position and fortune than she was about personal relationships. And soon she would be all alone. Sophie’s visit would end, and Charles would return to New York.

  If I keep pushing people away, I’ll end up all alone, too.

  It seemed so simple. Yet, to Sophie, it was as earth-shattering a thought as a thousand-ton hydraulic press. She didn’t want to be like her aunt. She wanted to be able to love others and open herself to love. To trust others to not fail her. To trust herself to not fail them. She had to start letting people into her heart and into her affections.

  She only hoped that she wasn’t too late.

  * * *

  Mariah woke up on the floor of Sir Thomas’s studio. She stretched out her arms and legs, and the blanket that was covering her fell off. Her neck felt stiff and her whole body felt as if she were the one wearing metal armor. Gingerly she got to her feet.

  Mrs. Spooner walked through the door. “Awake at last, are we?”

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  Mrs. Spooner smiled. “Genius cannot wait. Let’s see your portrait, then.”

  Mariah felt her temperature rise as Mrs. Spooner came near the canvas and began inspecting it with the same circumspection with which she’d examined Sir Thomas’s Joan of Arc.

  Sophie’s portrait looked forward defiantly, her curly red hair streaming over her bare shoulders, onto the black dress and out of the painting. Mariah’s soft face turned away from Sophie, her curls pulled back, her dress white with a high collar.

  “You’re not at all the same,” Mrs. Spooner said finally. “What do you mean to do with your painting?”

  Mariah flushed. “I don’t have any plans.”

  “All the better,” Mrs. Spooner said practically. “Mr. Poulton will be arriving today to frame Joan of Arc. With your permission, I’ll have him frame your painting as well.”

  Mariah tugged at her sleeve. “How much does that cost?”

  “Consider it a gift,” Mrs. Spooner said. “I have a knack for discovering fine artists, and I mean to add you to my list of discoveries.”

  “Me?”

  “You,” Mrs. Spooner said with a wide grin. “I’ll even venture to have your painting displayed publicly, if you’ll trust me with it.”

  “Of course, I can’t thank you enough!” Mariah cried, her eyes beginning to water. “You’ve done so much for me and my sister. There’s no way to repay you…”

  “Friendship requires no payment,” Mrs. Spooner said. “Now, go home and see what mischief your sister’s been up to, and leave everything to me.”

  NINETEEN

  MARIAH COULD HARDLY BELIEVE HOW quickly the next seven days passed. Her aunt required so much help with the party arrangements that she barely had time to dress before dinner or switch places with Sophie. Not that how Mariah looked mattered; Charles had spent the last week visiting his country estates without even bothering to say goodbye.

  The night of the party, Mariah sat still as Sophie pinned each curl into place. “Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

  Sophie laughed. “Ethan’s in Birmingham, and I’m afraid Charles is no inducement for me.”

  They heard a knock at the door and Mariah’s eyes opened wide. Sophie placed her finger to her lips and tiptoed toward the bed.

  “Who is it?” Mariah asked.

  “Aunt Bentley.”

  Mariah heard Sophie curse softly as she hit her head on the side of the bed frame. Mariah waited for Sophie to finish shimmying underneath before she walked to the door and opened it.

  “Do you need something?” Mariah asked, acutely aware of the second pair of boots on the floor beside the bed.

  Aunt Bentley didn’t speak immediately as she entered. She seemed to take up half the room with her enormous dress of dove-gray silk. Mariah stood dumbly holding the doorknob, unsure of what she was supposed to do. Their aunt had never visited their room before.

  Aunt Bentley looked around the room, taking in every detail. Mariah hoped she wouldn’t notice Sophie’s hair poking out from underneath the bed.

  “I received a visit from a lawyer today,” Aunt Bentley said finally.

  “Yes?”

  “Captain Trenton died three days ago,” she said. “His lawyer came to inform me that you and your sister have each inherited two thousand pounds. I’m glad you were prudent enough to visit him. Your attention has received its reward.”

  “I … I-I can’t believe he’s dead,” Mariah said, tears springing to her eyes.

  “Don’t become maudlin, Sophie,” Aunt Bentley snapped. “You only saw the man once in several years and excessive displays of emotion went out of fashion when the Prince Regent died.”

  Mariah wiped at her tears. “I’m sorry. It’s such a surprise, is all.”

  “I meant it to be a happy surprise,” Aunt Bentley said, stiffening. “Two thousand pounds will make a great deal of difference in your future as well as for Mariah. You will not be rich, but you will never have to be dependent again.”

  Mariah sniffed and flushed at her own duplicity. “Thank you, Aunt Bentley. You’ve been very good to me.”

  “You’d better finish getting ready,” she said brusquely. “My guests will soon arrive.”

  Without another word, she left the room. Mariah rushed to the bed as Sophie stuck her head out.

  “Poor Papa,” Mariah said, crying again.

  To her surprise, Sophie’s eyes were full of unshed tears.

  “You know what this means, Mariah?”

  “What?”

  “That he truly loved us,” Sophie said. “And he didn’t forget us, and that means more to me than the money.”

  Sophie walked to the table and picked up the handkerchief to hand to Mariah, but instead brought it closer to her own eyes, examining the embroidery. “Is this the Bentley crest, Mariah?”

  Mariah took the handkerchief from her sister and put it to good use on her eyes first, and then her nose. She could feel Sophie’s scrutiny as she said lightly, “Charles lent it to me once. I should have returned it already. I will tomorrow.”

  “You’d better return it before he leaves,” Sophie said. “Aunt Bentley mentioned that he would only stay here tonight, and then he plans to stay the night in Dover before he sails.”

  Mariah turned from her sister, unable to meet her eyes.

  “We can talk about this tomorrow,” Sophie said. “Let me powder your face a little, to cover up that you’ve been crying. We can grieve tomorrow.”

  Mariah felt numb as her sister powdered her face. Sophie pinned four more curls before pronouncing Mariah perfect. Standing up, Mariah looked in the mirror: the white silk dress made her appear paler than usual.

  Sophie pinched Mariah’s cheeks. “For color.” Then she helped Mariah pull on her long white gloves and dancing slippers.

  “What are you going to do while I’m gone?”

  Sophie gave her a sad smile. “I think the best way for me to honor Papa is by using his telescope. I mean to sit on the roof and search for him in the stars.”

  Mariah nodded, overcome with emotion.

  Sophie hugge
d her. “Don’t forget to smile!”

  Mariah gave her a wan smile and then left the room. Aunt Bentley and Charles stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs in the grand foyer.

  “There you are, Sophie,” Aunt Bentley said. “I was just telling Charles about your good fortune.”

  Mariah didn’t trust herself to speak, so she looked down and merely nodded. She heard the knocker and glanced first at the door and then to Charles. Their eyes met for a moment before he looked away.

  “Come stand by my side, Sophie,” Aunt Bentley said. “We must welcome my guests.”

  Charles stood on the other side of Aunt Bentley. He might have been in another room for the lack of notice he gave Mariah. The first guests to arrive were the Penderton-Simpsons. The parents barely acknowledged Mariah, but Adaline gave her a brilliant smile. “My dear Sophie, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you—or Lord Bentley.”

  She looked archly from Mariah to Charles. He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid that I’ve had business with my estates to settle before I go out of the country again, Miss Penderton-Simpson.”

  “That’s a very good excuse,” Adaline admitted gaily. “Still, you must make it up to me tonight.”

  “With pleasure,” Charles said. “May I have the first two dances?”

  Adaline blithely accepted, and Mariah tried very hard to smile. More guests arrived, and Charles’s attention went to them. Mariah didn’t recognize most of the guests, but she had a shrewd suspicion that Sophie would have. A beautiful blond young woman named Lady Gordon positively winked at her!

  At last, Aunt Bentley proclaimed that they could leave their post and join the party. Charles went at once to claim his dances with Adaline, who beamed in his arms. Mariah didn’t have to watch them long before she was asked to dance by a Mr. Heath. His face was pocked like ground beef, and he tread on her toes twice.

  Mariah was relieved when he led her off the dance floor. She stood there, uncertain for a moment, and Mr. Heath circled the room and came back to her.

  But before he reached her, another gentleman stepped in front of him and asked, “Might I have this next dance, Miss Carter?”

  He must have arrived late, because Mariah hadn’t seen him before. He was tall with blond hair, bluish-green eyes, a straight nose, and a strong chin. Mariah shyly held out her hand. The unknown gentleman pulled her into his arms and whisked her away to the dance floor.

  “I’ve come to beg for forgiveness, dear friend.”

  Mariah’s breath hitched, and she stumbled through the dance step. Who was he and why was he asking for Sophie’s forgiveness? How was Mariah to know if she could give it or not?

  “I, uh … well … that is—” Mariah stumbled through her words as well as her steps.

  “I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have rushed you. Please say that we may still be friends.”

  “Um … I, uh, I don’t know … I shall, um … have to think about it.”

  He then did an intricate dance turn that required all her dancing skill to follow. She deftly turned and spun reversely in his arms. It was a difficult dance move and she executed it perfectly. She looked up at his face and the man’s pleasant countenance had changed to a serious frown.

  “You’re not the Miss Carter I know.”

  Mariah panicked and lost her step. “Wh- … I … Then who c-could I be?”

  “Her identical twin sister,” he said simply. “I should’ve known that Sophie wouldn’t have left you behind.”

  Again, Mariah lost her step and the man led her back to the correct dance figure.

  “Where might I find, Sophie, if that’s her name?” he said, looking at her intently. “Or is it yours?”

  Mariah blinked. “Wh-who are you?”

  “Ethan Miller at your service, Miss Carter.”

  Mariah laughed in relief, pulling her hand from his to cover her mouth. They stood there in the middle of the dance floor for a moment before Mariah noticed several eyes on her. She placed her hand back into Mr. Miller’s and they continued to dance.

  “I’m Mariah. Mariah Carter,” she said softly. “You know the real Sophie Carter.”

  “I’m glad of that.”

  “Aunt Bentley only invited one of us to stay,” she explained breathlessly. “Sophie wouldn’t come without me. So we’ve taken turns being ‘Sophie.’ If we knew you were coming tonight, she would’ve been here.”

  Ethan laughed; it was a deep, melodious sound. Mariah liked him for it.

  “Let me guess,” he said quietly. “The whole charade was Sophie’s idea?”

  “Yes,” Mariah admitted. “But I also agreed.”

  “And not one person has guessed there are two of you?”

  “You’re the first.”

  Ethan spun Mariah around as they continued through the set. “May I ask again, where might I find Sophie?”

  “Usually the spare sister stays in our bedroom,” Mariah said. “But tonight, she’s on the roof stargazing.”

  Ethan grinned and Mariah found herself returning his smile. He led her to the side of the room and bowed over her hand.

  “Miss Carter,” he said formally.

  Mariah watched Ethan walk away as Charles escorted Adaline to her side. He bowed over Adaline’s hand.

  “Thank you for the pleasure of those two dances,” he said.

  Adaline tittered. “I have permission to dance a third with you, should you ask me.”

  “I wouldn’t wish to be so cruel as to monopolize you from the rest of the party,” Charles said. “Sophie, may I have this dance?”

  Mariah offered her hand, and Charles clasped it in his. Once on the dance floor, he lightly took hold of her waist with the other. He didn’t speak, and Mariah foolishly enjoyed being in his arms. She closed her eyes and moved with the music, the slight pressure of his fingers directing her every step.

  “I suppose I wouldn’t be behind in offering you my congratulations, Sophie,” Charles said in a hard voice.

  Mariah blinked and opened her eyes.

  “Miss Penderton-Simpson says that everything is all but settled between you and my cousin.”

  Mariah found herself blushing.

  “Your face says it all.”

  She bit her lip. “Charles, I was wondering if I could speak to you privately for a moment. Perhaps in the library? There’s something I would like to say.”

  “I’m not sure it’s anything I would like to hear,” he said stiffly.

  “Please. I need to say it.”

  “As you wish.”

  When the music ended, he took her hand and led her out of the room. He didn’t speak again until they arrived at the library and he closed the door behind them.

  “Nothing is settled between myself and Mr. Miller,” Mariah said.

  “What?” Charles said. He took an involuntary step toward her before checking himself.

  “I’ve wronged my aunt twice, and I’ll leave it to your discretion how much to tell her,” Mariah said. “The first is that I was not invited to stay. My sister, Sophie, was. We’ve always been together, and so we both came to London—one sister staying hidden and the other taking turns being ‘Sophie.’”

  “That … is too incredible to believe.”

  “My sister and I are identical in appearance,” she explained. “But we’re not at all the same in personality. Did you not notice the differences between us? Wasn’t our behavior, our expressions, varied enough to give you pause?”

  Charles ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I never supposed.”

  Mariah grasped the table for support. “And the other wrong was that my aunt specifically asked me not to try to engage your interest. And I did try. But I realize now that it was both wrong and foolish.”

  “Foolish?”

  She shook her head. “You were never interested in me, Mariah. You were only interested in ‘Sophie’ because your cousin was. Another area in which you could compete with him.”

  “That’s not true—�
��

  “I’d hoped it wasn’t,” Mariah said. “But Ethan realized I wasn’t Sophie within seconds of meeting me tonight.”

  “Did you expect me to guess?”

  “Of course not,” she said. “I’m only disappointed that you never knew me well enough to tell the difference between us.”

  “Do you know me well enough to make such an assertion?” Charles demanded.

  “I know you well enough, Charles, to tell you that you’ll never beat your cousin,” Mariah said, shaking her head. “And it’s not because he’s better, older, richer, or wiser. It’s because he’s not competing with you. Every success you have, he will celebrate it with you. Every mistake you make, he will commiserate with you. He doesn’t need to prove himself to anyone. He’s like my sister, Sophie: whole and complete.”

  “Miss Mariah Carter.” He said her name slowly, as if it was new to him. “Can you say that you are whole and complete?

  “No,” she said, pressing her hand to the center of her chest. “My life has been an empty canvas, and I thought I had to wait to find someone to paint my life into a masterpiece. But I was wrong. I am the painter and I am the only person who can make my life into a masterpiece. And I’m the only person who can make me whole and complete.”

  “And how are you going to do that?”

  Mariah attempted a smile and let go of the table. “I’m going to learn how to live on my own. Trust myself. Make mistakes. Learn from them. And then hopefully, someday, find someone whom I can love wholly, because I’ll finally be whole.”

  “I understand,” Charles said slowly.

  Mariah took a deep breath and let it go. “We’d better return to the party. My aunt will be wondering where we are.”

  “You go first,” he said. “It will be better if we don’t enter at the same time.”

  Charles opened the door to the library, and Mariah gave him a small curtsy before leaving the room.

  TWENTY

  SOPHIE WALKED OUT ONTO THE roof and felt the slight chill of evening. She pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders before setting the telescope case down and opening it. Bringing the telescope to her eye, she adjusted it until her view was clear. Captain Trenton had told her that the North Star eventually calls all sailors home. As a child, Sophie had not realized that he had meant death. She scanned the skies for a few moments before locating the Little Dipper constellation, then the brightest star in its handle. The North Star.