A Regency Yuletide

by Sharon Sobel

  A deeper frustration than she had ever known filled Sophy. Except for her injured knee, her mother appeared so healthy now that the doctor was aware of her heart problem and monitoring her care. Jeremy’s presence abroad seemed ideal, for it would calm her mother’s fears of Sophy being abroad without a family friend nearby. A part of her wanted to remain in America as long as her mother’s health would allow. If only he would agree, Jeremy’s companionship might provide an acceptable compromise to everyone in her family.

  “Would you not consider going to America for a matter of months until a suitable replacement can be found? I understand your loyalty to our homeland, but you cannot put the Crown first any longer. You must be loyal to your family—your future family.” She faltered at the words, feeling her heart breaking within.

  “It seems odd to hear this from you, when you have failed to heed your own advice. And what will happen if your mother fails in your absence?” His voice was tight with irritation. “Your mother needs you, Sophy. Mine died while I was away, and I was not able to say goodbye. Do not lose the chance to spend time with yours.”

  Sophy fell silent, stung by Jeremy’s rebuke. She resented his comparison of their mothers’ situations. Her brothers had indicated the doctor was hopeful her mother might have a year if not more of good health ahead of her. His dismissal of her suggestion made her fear his love was not as deep as he had proclaimed earlier. While he probably felt she was behaving unreasonably, she was not prepared to dismiss her sense of duty to the ministry. She had not yet convinced herself that her resignation was entirely necessary.

  She had promised the Mission Society her help. Her commitment to their cause was strong, an attribute that Jeremy St. Laurent obviously failed to appreciate, she told herself bitterly.

  An hour later, in the throes of frustration over Jeremy’s refusal to consider her suggestion, she found herself responding to Humphrey Fotherington’s attention. The children’s growing excitement as the holidays approached, and their challenges to see whose sled could go farthest, provided entertainment as well as conversation free from tension. She might at least make someone happy, she decided, knowing her brothers would be pleased to see her keeping company with Humphrey.

  “I understand you spent more than a year abroad in the wilderness. I should very much like to see America one day,” Humphrey surprised her by admitting one afternoon.

  Sophy’s ears perked up at the welcome words. “I think you would enjoy it very much,” she told him. Wistful at the idea of giving up her dream of staying in America longer, she wished her time abroad could stretch longer than the next few months, even though she knew it was probably inevitable. Instead she pointed out the practical advantages. “It’s a growing country, and opportunities abound for anyone with the desire and ambition to create a new life.”

  “And money, of course,” Humphrey reminded her. “There is little one can accomplish without money to support new endeavors. That would not be an issue were I to go abroad.”

  The idea of having a companion abroad appealed so to Sophy that she spent considerable time with Humphrey over the next few days. She’d begun to fear no one would find the idea of traveling to America agreeable, even if only for a short time. When Humphrey expressed an interest in the New World she did not press for more.

  Instead she challenged him to a game of chess one evening and even refrained from showing excessive jubilation when she defeated him handily. He in turn was a most gracious loser. Spending time with him removed the pressure of making a decision from her shoulders. While she wished Jeremy might change his mind about accompanying her abroad if only for a few months, the distance he placed between them, both physical and emotional, told her otherwise.

  Sophy found herself getting on surprisingly well with Humphrey. His presence troubled her only when he focused their conversations on the social opportunities London afforded. He did not hesitate to boast of its many glorious distractions.

  “America has its wildlife, yet buffalo cannot surpass the variety of animals in London’s Menagerie,” he said. “One cannot find exotics like the elephant, tiger, and lion in America.”

  “No,” she was forced to concede, “yet they do not run wild in the countryside here as do America’s buffalo.”

  Instead of arguing as Jeremy would do, Sophy found Humphrey equal to her intellectual challenges without the disapproval she’d come to expect from Jeremy. She enjoyed the banter she exchanged with Humphrey and thought his nature less disagreeable than Jeremy’s. The time they spent together allowed her to put her marital prospects in perspective. Humphrey had made London sound somewhat appealing while at the same time expressing an interest in at least visiting America, unlike Jeremy.

  Her intention to distance herself from Jeremy seemed to be succeeding until one evening at dinner. She had found her fan effective at keeping Jeremy at bay. A single wave of it drew Humphrey to her side and called attention to her feminine attributes.

  She began carrying her fan regularly, waving it absently at dinner one evening, until Jeremy abruptly reached out and stopped its movement.

  “I think that is sufficient,” he said with a polite smile. “The fan creates rather a strong breeze for such a cool evening, don’t you think? I fear you’re creating a draft Arabella finds unsuitable.”

  Sophy flushed and glanced across the table where Arabella seemed too deeply engaged in conversation with Barclay to have noticed, but she acquiesced and set her fan aside.

  The following day she noticed Jeremy seemed to spend less time in pursuit of her, even for casual conversation, preferring instead the company of Harry or Eddie. The strain in their relationship became obvious enough for Humphrey to notice, who responded by pursuing her vigorously in Jeremy’s absence.

  To Sophy’s dismay she found the more constant a companion Humphrey became the less appealing she found his attentions. He struck her as a vulture that saw his chance, resuming his true nature as he scavenged the refuse left by Jeremy.

  The realization angered her, for she did not intend to allow someone for whom she cared deeply to ignore her. They had resolved their differences about relationships that were now in the past, yet their lives were now headed in opposite directions.

  She attempted a new approach with Jeremy that afternoon. “You would have the opportunity to deliver babies if you traveled to the New World with me,” she said plaintively. “Surely it must have been a highlight of the time you spent at war.”

  “My efforts might suffice in an emergency,” he said, frustratingly reluctant. “Childbirth is probably still better left to the skill of an experienced midwife. It is not what I would desire to do with my life.”

  “I have no wish to be petulant, but I believe a man who cares for a woman would sacrifice for her—as he has done for his country.” Bitterness rose within Sophy. “If I do not choose my future course soon the next ship will leave without me, and you will be glad of it.”

  “A man who truly cares for a woman would not stand in the way of something she wishes to do as deeply as you wish this.” Jeremy’s brown eyes searched hers. “Would you have me deny it? Where is the strategy in lying? We are not at war, are we?”

  Sophy found it difficult to disguise her exasperation with him. “You would know better than I, would you not? I would never receive such treatment from Mr. Fotherington.”

  Jeremy’s scornful laugh infuriated her. “If you think Fotherington will accept your traveling, you are mistaken. Are you pleased that he acts as if he is willing to try the New World to set up a business? He says it to please you. Fotherington’s interests are here. His words are merely the lies one tells when attempting to win the woman of his heart. Fotherington’s no better than Charles Ferris.”

  The idea sent a rush of doubt through Sophy, but she dismissed it at once. She’d begun to believe Mr. Fotherington might prove a more agreeable compani
on, and Jeremy’s infuriating decision to remain objective rather than loyal to her only strengthened her belief.

  “At least he entertains the idea of accompanying me at some point,” she concluded. “He has always wanted to visit America, unlike yourself.”

  Jeremy reflected on her puzzling attitude after they parted, wondering if she had heard a word he’d said. Despite his outspokenness about his reluctance to travel to America, Sophy continued to press the issue. Spitfire that she was, she intended to promote her cause until he consented. While he loved her and admired her determination, he decided that the best way to win her heart was not to point out a solution he considered evident. Rather it was to find a diplomatic way to help her view situations in a different way while tempering her fear of rejection, for that was what he believed her resistance to be. His love for her told him that in some ways he knew her better than she knew herself.

  Her generous heart, strength of character, and innocent belief in her mission made her the most desirable woman he could possibly imagine for himself. Her love of children was evident in her commitment to her missionary work.

  Yet that passion made him wonder if she truly wanted to be a wife and mother now that she’d had a taste of America. How could domestic life compete in her plans after her adventures? But he also saw the pain she forced her mother to undergo by insisting on returning to America, and he was concerned that Sophy failed to recognize it. Having lost his own mother while he was away had drained him emotionally. He knew the guilt grown children felt when a parent died in their absence. He did not want Sophy to have to endure the pain and regret that accompanied such guilt. He had to spare her that suffering despite her inability to recognize the risk if she chose to travel abroad now.

  Lady Fairfax had been gracious in not insisting that Sophy, her only daughter, remain at home to care for her in her waning years. His concern lingered as he wondered why Sophy could not comprehend the seriousness of her mother’s frailty and react as he’d expect.

  WHEN, SOPHY wondered, had she faced a decision more painful than the one that faced her now? She had never felt more conflicted. Now that she was home she recognized how much she loved England, her home, her nieces and nephews. The world she saw today was different from the one she’d left. The words in the note she’d written predicting how she would be spending her life twenty-five years later came back to her. She wished desperately that she could predict the future, even as far as next month. Unfortunately, she could not.

  To her chagrin, the men attempted to settle the decision for her the next day. A discussion of holiday traditions had arisen, along with the concept of First Footing, the holiday tradition she feared most. The subject arose casually but soon took shape as a challenge as they gathered in the drawing room that night. Snow fell softly beyond the window as Sophy listened, patience mixing with frustration, while Arabella attempted to teach her the difference between two embroidery stitches.

  “We have had so many injuries this month,” their mother remarked, stitching on her own embroidery hoop, “we must hope our First Foot is a tall, dark-haired gentleman. According to tradition, that is who will bring our house and all who are in it good luck for the twelve coming months.”

  “We can’t let it be Herbert then,” Barclay joked, seated by the fire with a glass of brandy, “for with that blond hair he looks far too much like a Viking. Sorry, Herbert, but that coloring suits Bella far more than you.”

  Arabella Prindle blushed a becoming shade of rose, Sophy thought. She turned toward Barclay in as subtle a fashion as possible and saw the change had not gone unnoticed by her brother.

  Barclay threw his leg over the arm of the chair. “In ancient times, it was believed that, after the New Year, the first single man who entered a home inhabited by a young unmarried woman was the man she would marry. Perhaps the only way to determine who shall have Sophy’s hand is to see who the First Foot is.”

  Humphrey Fotherington exchanged a meaningful glance with Sampson Hodge, their faces thoughtful, as if they were considering such an outrageous challenge. Sophy held her breath. Surely Barclay could not be serious.

  “Let us not jest about this,” Fotherington said cautiously. “Is it truly appropriate to vie for the hand of such a desirable creature as Miss Templeton using such a haphazard method?”

  The discussion left Sophy’s nerves on edge. She imagined such a challenge resulting in a race to the front door, with Jeremy the winner, settling the matter once and for all—but only if he were willing to accept her decision, she thought.

  “I believe there are far more sensible ways to choose a mate,” she declared, rising and excusing herself as gales of laughter followed her departure.

  Sophy listened in disbelief when the subject arose again the following evening at dinner, as Harry carved a joint of mutton.

  “We must all know and understand the rules of First Foot,” Lady Fairfax cautioned. “There is no stepping outside right before midnight, with the first bell that rings in the New Year, and returning indoors just as quickly.”

  “Let’s make it fair, then, to give everyone a sporting chance,” Humphrey Fotherington proposed. “If we—and Miss Templeton, of course—are to abide by First Foot rules, the first gentleman across the threshold is the one she will marry.”

  The conversation continued along the same lines. By the time the sweetmeats were served Sophy agreed at last to consider the ridiculous tradition, desperate to end the discussion. By New Year’s Eve her plans to sail to America for her temporary stay would be finalized, and any betrothal that came that night would be put on hold. Her future husband, she decided, must either agree to the arrangement or forfeit the First Foot victory. All was silent until Barclay chuckled, drawing everyone’s attention.

  “What kind of bumblebroth have we gotten ourselves into with this?” he said, shaking his head. “Perhaps a better question is why Sophy is so accepting of the idea.”

  Smiling sweetly, Sophy returned to her dessert in smug silence, satisfied that everyone was pleased with her decision.

  As Christmas drew closer she made it clear to the trio of suitors that presents were unnecessary, unless they cared to give gifts to her nieces and nephews. That her injury made her unable to reciprocate made a most appropriate excuse. The truth was that she had no desire to encourage any of them.

  Finally, two days before Christmas, while the others in the household were outdoors at a skating party, the snows had melted sufficiently to allow the mail coach to pass through Sheffield and for deliveries to be retrieved. The improvement in the weather brought the answer Sophy had waited for. She would remember it as the day she was able to discard her crutches for good.

  She accepted the letter from the British Mission Society with trembling fingers, so impatient to read the long-awaited answer that she tore it open in the hall as it was handed to her. She scanned the missive until she found the words she so desperately sought, her heart leaping as she learned they had found a chaperone. While no one could replace Mrs. Amesbury, the director noted, the minister bound for America would be accompanied by his wife who was unquestionably suitable.

  As she let out a sigh of relief and her heart began to beat again, Sophy felt her spirits plummet. Having waited so long for the reply, more events had transpired in the past fortnight than she had ever expected. She was startled to find herself hesitant to accept the Society’s offer.

  Three issues held her back. She had become uncommonly attached to her nieces and nephews in the time she had been home. Her mother, frail now, had injured herself in what could have been a disastrous fall.

  And Jeremy had returned to her life.

  The combination left Sophy unsure whether she wanted to return to America. How would she feel leaving behind those she loved most? Her mother, Teddy and Emily, and Jonathan and Susannah were here—as was Jeremy.

  Her faith was s
haken as she realized she must reconsider her decision. She need not respond to the letter just yet. If she were to change her mind, she would need time to adjust emotionally. For the time being she would say nothing.

  Her emotions were buried so deeply that making the right decision would require time and patience. And privacy. It would be, she knew, the biggest decision of her life.

  But she had no time to dwell on it, for the Christmas whirlwind kept her mind occupied, leaving her no time to fret over her undecided future. The aromas wafting throughout the house distracted the guests from their card party as fragrant pine mixed with cinnamon, nutmeg, and savory meats and cheeses from the larder. The merry mood indoors kept everyone from grumbling and fretting about the weather and turned their hearts toward laughter and sharing.

  Guilt flowed through Sophy as she realized too late that she had forgotten to make a present for Jeremy. She had spent all her time making gifts for her nieces and nephews, creating games from ideas that had occurred to her while she lay abed letting her ankle heal. In the bookshelves she discovered cherished books from her childhood that she knew would appeal to the children. Their gifts had been a joy to consider and to make.

  Then she’d put her newly gained knitting skills to work on presents for the adults, but she had forgotten Jeremy’s because his posed the most difficult decision for her. No matter what gift she contemplated giving, no matter how common, none seemed devoid of emotion.

  With Christmas Eve on their doorstep, she had nothing to give him and no ideas. She could not get to a shop in such deep snow, and she hadn’t time to knit anything, for her presence was needed for holiday activities. Given their emotional stalemate, she could think of no suitable present.

  Then she remembered their childhood days and the objects that delighted them most. On a whim she decided to look inside the old toy box in what had been their playroom in childhood.

  And there she found just what she’d hoped to find.