by CE Murphy
“Good heavens, by whom?”
“By Julia Webber, of all people!”
Such news could be not come as more of a shock than a bucket of cold water being up-ended over her. Indeed, Elsabeth felt that perhaps such a thing had happened, and that it had then frozen, holding her quite in place. “Julia Webber has invited you to London? Oh, Sophia, that sounded dreadfully mean, and I did not intend it that way. But—she has invited you to London?”
“No, you have no meanness in your soul.”
Elsabeth could not allow such a comment to go unremarked, and gave her response voice by the lifting of an eyebrow, which caused Sophia to laugh. “Very well, it is Rosamund who has no meanness in her soul, but you are never mean to me, Elsabeth, and I do not take your words as being so. I have been in contact with Miss Webber,” she confessed more shyly. “We have been writing to one another all autumn, and now she has invited me to visit.”
“How splendid for you.” Elsabeth could not quite hide her astonishment, nor stop herself from enquiring, “Sophia, have you mentioned to Miss Webber that Rosamund is in London?”
Sophia replied, “No,” with some surprise. “Had Rosa not written her before she left? I am sure they have seen one another!”
“They have not. Perhaps Rosamund is right after all, and her letter went astray. And she has been so busy since—well!” There could be, Elsabeth felt, no other answer, for she thought little enough of Miss Webber to believe that she would not invite Sophia to London if doing so meant risking her brother and Rosamund encountering one another. A certain sly delight awoke within Elsabeth’s breast: how delicious, if all of Miss Webber’s plottings should come to naught thanks to her friendship with another Bodton girl! Wickedly pleased, Elsa concluded, “You will have to see her for me, and tell her how much I miss her! London, Sophia! Is your mother happy?” Elsabeth slipped her arm into Sophia’s, and together they walked across the fields, laughing and chatting. Mrs Enton was beyond delighted; she intended on sending Sophia to Town in their best coach, and had already conceded some significant portion of a budget for new gowns. Miss Webber’s exquisite taste would see Sophia bedecked in the most magnificent of London finery, and Mrs Enton was already imagining herself at her daughter’s wedding to a tall, intelligent politician of distinctive means.
“I only wish that you could come, too,” Sophia said as they finally made their way back toward Oakden. “I know you are not fond of Julia—of Miss Webber—but what fun we should all have in London together, Elsabeth! What a gay time it would be!”
“I shall be happier to hear it in letters,” Elsabeth promised. “Then I will have all the fun of admiring with none of the bother of being polite. Imagine if you should encounter Mr Archer! I might have to dance with him again!”
In truth, Elsabeth felt a little bereft, although it was not in her to resent either Rosamund or Sophia’s good fortunes. But she had depended on Sophia for the months Rosa had been gone, and had expected to continue in such a vein; to find herself without close female friends brought her as near to heartache as Elsabeth Dover could come. She entertained Captain Hartnell less, and waited for the post more, though one of the most striking missives came the very day Sophia left for London.
“I have encountered Miss Webber!” Rosamund wrote happily. “Only this very morning, which will be some two or three days since, when you receive this letter. I was correct: my letter to her did not arrive, and she was most agitated to learn I had been in London all this while without her knowledge. She will come to Aunt Felicity’s in three days’ time—perhaps on the very day you are reading this!—and we shall finally have a little visit. She has already fallen upon me with apologies for their departure from Newsbury; they had believed, she says, that they would be gone only a week or so, but circumstances in Town demanded that they stay on. There! Now we know, and I can confess that my heart is greatly relieved. I am eager to write you again, Elsa, with all the news of the Webbers and even, perhaps, a certain Mr Archer...”
Do not task yourself with learning about Mr Archer on my behalf, Elsa wrote in response. I am sure I need know no more of him than I already do. But it is my pleasure to share glad tidings! Sophia Enton has been invited to London to stay with Miss Webber, and so, I am sure you will all see a great deal more of one another than might have been expected. Entirely satisfied with the situation, she posted the letter immediately, knowing that it would arrive in Rosamund’s hands no more than a day or two after Sophia settled in London.
(34)
Indeed, no gladder tidings could have reached Rosamund Dover, whose fondness for Sophia Enton was exceeded only by Elsabeth’s. She wondered that Miss Webber had not mentioned Sophia’s impending arrival during their visit at Mrs Penney’s home, but concluded that it was only natural for Miss Webber to want Sophia for herself for a few days and, of course, to allow Sophia time to become settled in London. Rosa was not above admitting to herself that she would have been inclined to visit her Bodton companion at the earliest possible moment, perhaps well before propriety allowed; by those lights, Miss Webber had done her quite a favour! Content with this explanation, Rosamund waited an appropriate number of days before sending a note to Sophia and proclaiming her fervent desire to see her.
It might have come as some surprise to Rosamund to learn that Sophia had been agitating to visit Rosamund for some days already by the time that note was delivered. It was not that Sophia lacked things to do; rather, she had been so busy with dress fittings, dinner parties and social engagements that she could hardly be said to have settled. All of this had been arranged by Julia Webber, who took unparalleled pleasure in Sophia’s popularity. Julia was never far from Sophia’s side, attending her so assiduously that Julia’s elder sister, Mrs Gibbs, observed that it seemed Sophia was Julia’s star, and Julia but a satellite in Sophia’s orbit.
Sophia blushed heartily at this remark and protested it could not be true, that she was only a small and uninteresting country girl, which caused great gaiety on Julia’s part. “You could never be small,” Miss Webber assured Sophia, “and that you are from the country only gives you a genuineness often unseen in Town. Now, tomorrow, my dear Sophia—”
“Tomorrow, I should like to visit Rosamund,” Sophia said with as much firmness as she could muster. The words proved fateful, for, at that very moment, Mr Webber, who had been in the country to shoot since before Sophia’s arrival, appeared in the doorway with a genial smile.
“Miss Enton! I had not known you were already come to London! How splendid it is to see you!” This greeting was delivered with the expected polite enthusiasm, and a less sensible woman than Miss Enton might have imagined it to be wholly genuine. But Mr Webber’s smile began to show strain around the edges, and, though his voice remained light, it would be impossible for any but the very least sensitive of creatures to recognise the urgency of his next query. “I could not have heard that correctly, could I? That Miss Dover is in Town as well? Surely, we would have learned this intelligence...”
Julia Webber’s own smile was strained as well. “I have only just learned it myself, whilst you were away, dear brother. It seems Miss Dover has been in London since well before Christmas, and her letter to me went astray. I am sure we are all eager to see one another again, but pray tell, Robby, where is Mr Archer? You have not left him at Streyfield, have you?”
“No, he will be here momentarily. He is...We must have her to supper, Julia. Good God, she must feel entirely neglected. I cannot have it!”
“How she can feel neglected when we were not even aware of her presence—”
“Who has been neglected?” Mr Archer, stripping gloves from his hands, entered the drawing room with the air of a man about his business, only to stop in pure startlement upon seeing Sophia. “Miss Enton? I had no idea we were to be so graced. You are looking tremendously well: London seems to agree with you. Surely, you cannot feel neglected, even if Webber and I are only lately come to Town and no doubt bothersomely inattentive
.”
He was, Sophia thought at this rush of words, an entirely different man in London. Perhaps it was the comfort of being surrounded by those of his own class, which he had made manifestly clear he was not in Bodton; certainly, her own small presence could not be sufficient as to disturb a man otherwise in his element. “I have been in London a week yesterday, Mr Archer, at Miss Webber’s invitation, and I hasten to assure you I have been in no way neglected, although I shall consider myself all the more fortunate to have such elegant companionship as yourself and Mr Webber now that you are returned. I hope you have been well.”
“Entirely,” Archer agreed, “and up until this moment, I might have said Webber had been as well. Webber, you are pale. Does London’s thick air disagree with you now, after the freshness of the country? Sit down; Peters, get the man a brandy.”
The Webbers’ butler, as inconspicuous a man as Sophia had ever seen, presented Mr Webber with a brandy so swiftly that she could only imagine he had been attending that very pursuit before Archer ever spoke. Webber both sat and drank as commanded, then tended to the question Archer had asked first upon entering the room: “It is Miss Dover who must feel neglected, Archer; I have only just this moment learned she is in London.”
Webber could not have forced a more dramatic change onto Archer if he had spoken with full malice and aforethought. The Streyfield man’s posture became rigid and his colour blue ash. “Miss Rosamund Dover is in London?”
Astonished at the change in him, Sophia entertained the notion that he, and not Webber, was the man in love with Rosamund, though the lie was put to that thought as his next words burst forth: “Does Miss Elsabeth attend as well?”
A short silence followed this question, broken after a moment by Sophia herself: “I do not believe so, Mr Archer. That is to say, no; Elsabeth remains in Bodton.” A spark of mischief awakened in her and she continued, guilelessly, “I shall tell her you have asked after her when next I write.”
“That is not necessary.” Archer sipped from the brandy that Peters had discreetly pressed into his hand before looking at the drink as though it had appeared unsummoned. “Webber, I have no doubt that Miss Dover is well indulged and in no way neglected. It would no doubt be superior for us to not impose ourselves upon her time; I am sure she is busy with social calls and new friendships.”
Surely, a more crestfallen expression had never graced a gentleman’s face. “Perhaps you are right, Archer, although it strikes me as unseemly to not pay our respects now that we know she is in Town.”
Although it was clear even to the most unobservant of persons that both Mr Archer and Miss Webber did not wish for Mr Webber to once again encounter Rosamund Dover, Sophia was herself possessed of two things: one, a genuine and long-standing friendship with Miss Dover, and two, a kind, if not romantic, heart hidden within her bosom. With a gaiety verging on false, because she knew her next words would distress both her hostess and Mr Archer, Sophia cried, “Oh, but I, certainly, cannot go without seeing Miss Dover; that would be the height of rudeness, and my visits could not be considered an imposition on her time, for we have been friends since childhood. And she is such an amiable creature: I cannot imagine that she would not welcome one or two additional visitors when I attend her.”
Mr Webber’s misery reversed itself as swiftly as clouds cleared from the skies. “Yes, of course you must visit with her, Miss Enton, and you will ask, will you not, if I might join you the next time? I mean, that Miss Webber and I might join you. I am confident that, if you ask in person, she will not be able to refuse you, as she might very sensibly refuse a letter; she must think me a cad for our abrupt departure to London, without so much as a word of explanation. Oh, I ought not have allowed you to sway me so, Archer; after her sister’s disastrous encounter with the river, it is no surprise that she was slow in responding to our invitations.”
“I fear her sister is precisely the reason Miss Dover did not respond.” Archer fastened a gimlet eye on Sophia as he spoke. “I should think Miss Leopoldina’s antics were sufficiently appalling as to make Miss Dover understand that her small affection for you could not possibly be enough to overlook her family’s deficiencies. I would consider it cruel to impose myself on her in your position, Robert, and we are all well aware that you are not a cruel man.”
None of this was spoken for Mr Webber’s benefit: Sophia recognised that as clearly as she might recognise her own name. No: it was entirely meant for her own ears, and said—to her, who knew the Dover family secret—that Archer knew it as well, and that he would not be above exposing their sorcerous heritage if needs must. She met his hard expression and, by degrees, felt her own grow as unforgiving in return.
There was, Sophia Enton discovered in that moment, a certain freedom to being the sole disappointing child of her parents: without marriage prospects to consider, she could speak without fear of condemning her future comfort, and, without siblings, she had no one to protect through her own flawless behaviour save herself. The Dover girls were as sisters to her, and it seemed, there in the Webbers’ very civilised sitting room, that, if she had no expectations of her own happiness to fight for, it cost her nothing at all to fight for Rosamund’s.
She rose with slow grace, until her preposterous height, always a source of embarrassment, allowed her to gaze directly into Fitzgerald Archer’s startled eyes. “I am confident that your presence would be a cruelty to Miss Dover, Mr Archer. I am equally confident that Mr Webber’s would be a comfort; I know for my own part that she was most distressed when the Newsbury contingent departed so abruptly, for I was the bearer of that unfortunate news. Miss Dover is not excessively demonstrative, a trait I would think a man of your particular reserve would admire, but she is very fond of the Webbers, and Leopoldina, however appalling, has no effect upon that. I dare say that, if you had any respect for your own friend’s judgement, you would be most pleased to have him visit Miss Dover to, at the least, tender apologies for his abrupt departure. Polite society would expect nothing less.”
Archer was of too black a complexion to blush easily; despite this, Sophia believed she saw colour rise in his cheeks. He had expected her to be cowed; had expected his unspoken threat to expose the Dovers to silence any disagreement that a pliant female might feel. Well, she was not pliant, and, standing to face the gentleman, Sophia concluded she might never be bothered with compliance again. Men had wanted nothing to do with her, and she little enough to do with them, save for the stability that marriage offered; without it as a possibility, she saw no reason to behave as men would have her do, most particularly if to remain silent might hurt the women with whom she had always been closest. Bolstered by her own convictions, she continued to look into Archer’s eyes, until he said in a voice much offended, “Perhaps I have been mistaken about the appropriateness of all the Bodton females. Robert, Miss Webber; good night,” and departed in a whirl of coattails.
Sophia discovered her hands were shaking; she gazed at them a moment, then settled carefully back into her chair, where their tremble could be hidden by her skirts. “Forgive me,” she said after a moment, and sought Julia’s gaze with her own. “Forgive me; I did not intend to cause your other guest discomfort.”
The very corner of Julia Webber’s mouth curled reluctantly upward, as if she struggling against great humour. It made her extraordinarily beautiful, not with Rosamund’s soft beauty, but, rather, with a stronger and more compelling attraction. “On the contrary, Sophia, you most certainly did. I should be cross with you, but I believe I have never seen Archer so thoroughly routed, and by a woman, no less. Would that you were a man, Sophia: I should marry you instantly, for the anticipation of watching such tête-à-têtes for the rest of my life.”
If Archer had perhaps blushed, Sophia did so in earnest. “I thought your cap was set for Mr Archer.”
Julia glanced after the departed gentleman as though Sophia’s comment came as an unwelcome reminder. “I had rather have you, Miss Enton. I should not approve, bu
t I cannot dislike the fire that sets you to defend your friend so magnificently.”
“I think Mr Archer can,” Sophia whispered. “Perhaps I shall become your bosom friend, and argue with him for your entertainment, for I can imagine no other companion I should like better in life than yourself.”
“Nor I,” Mr Webber proclaimed warmly. “Sophia—Miss Enton—I must thank you for your strong moral compass, and your understanding of the straits poor Miss Dover has been left in. Even if we should only encounter her once, and then distress her no more, I shall be forever grateful for your assistance in offering my apologies to her. Archer will come around to seeing how right you are; he may be prideful, but he is not a fool. Please, I beg of you: write to Miss Dover at this very moment, so we might have hopes of smoothing these unsettled waters between us.”
“I shall, Mr Webber,” Sophia agreed, but found it was Miss Webber to whom she looked for approval. Upon finding it in the form of a smile both resigned and intrigued, Sophia did as she was bidden, and put pen to paper.
(35)
“I confess that it was awkward,” Rosamund wrote to Elsabeth not too many days later. “But it is over now, and should we meet on the street it will be as fond friends, nothing more. My heart is quite healed, Elsabeth; I believe London has been good for me. And it has done very well indeed for Sophia, whom I have surely never seen look so happy! You would hardly know her, Elsa, and, indeed, if you could see the way Miss Webber dotes on her, you could no more doubt Miss Webber’s kind heart than you might doubt my own. Miss Webber says, quite possessively, that she intends to keep Sophia in Town until at least the spring, and Aunt Felicity says she does not know how she has done without me and that she cannot bear to let me go. Oh, Elsabeth, are you well there, alone with Mother and the young ones? I miss you so very much, and yet find myself selfishly loath to leave London. Not for hopes of encountering Mr Webber—I am quite shut of those dreams!—but for the elegant company and the diverting entertainment. London is so grand, and I am sure that I am now entirely well.”
