A Regency Yuletide

by Sharon Sobel

Later in private she had a chance to offer her future sister-in-law her best wishes.

  “I am certain you and Barclay will be very happy together,” she told Arabella after they exchanged an embrace. “You have the good sense not to allow misunderstandings to keep you apart.”

  “Do you not think you will join us?” Barclay encouraged kindly. “It would be so appropriate if you were to get leg-shackled on the same day as us. It is not too late.”

  Sophy shook her head, her throat tight. “The honor of being first to the altar is yours if you’d like it.”

  The following day, Boxing Day, meant the children would have a special visit to Thomas and Dolly Riggs’s cottage, something they greatly anticipated. Boxing Day being the day they would give presents to the staff and to tenants, they had decided to bring their own handmade gifts for the tenants, in addition to those their grandmother had prepared.

  With Harry and her mother, Sophy accompanied them on the visit, surprised to see how much Dolly’s midsection had spread since she last saw her. Dolly practically radiated joy.

  Upon her return, however, she was dismayed to discover Jeremy had already left.

  “He’s going home to his father,” Barclay told her, “but he plans to return in time for the New Year.”

  “Why did he leave?” Sophy demanded. “What else did he say?”

  “He said he had to leave regarding a business matter.” Barclay shrugged. “He didn’t elaborate.”

  Sophy fought a growing resentment as she walked upstairs to her bedchamber. What business was more important than she, especially at Christmas and with their future hanging in the balance? Jeremy had not even taken the time to say goodbye.

  It was a short time later that day, after the group had enjoyed a light supper and tea, that the children called Sophy downstairs to give her their present.

  “You already gave me lovely drawings,” she reminded them, surprised.

  “We gave you what we had ready,” Susannah corrected her. “What we really want to give you is this. We’re sorry it’s late, but we had to wait for Riggs to finish it.”

  “We wanted something special for you,” Emily explained proudly.

  Together they turned and lifted a long narrow object from behind them.

  “It’s a walking stick,” Teddy announced, “to help you walk when you go to the New World.”

  Hands extended before them, they presented the walking stick to Sophy as a group. She caught her breath as she accepted her gift, studying the animal figures carved into the chestnut. Riggs had done an admirable job with the design, carving the faces of wolf, deer, bear, and buffalo to represent the animals the British commonly associated with the American wilderness. He had obviously spent a great deal of time and effort on the gift.

  “We’ll let you go if we must,” Jonathan said softly, “but you need something to help you with that limp—and something to remember us by.”

  Sophy looked at the children, their faces alight with hope before their expressions turned sad. Sophy was at such a loss for words that her mother thanked them for their thoughtfulness.

  “What an ideal present for Aunt Sophy,” she praised them. “You put a great deal of thought into giving her something that would make her happy. And now,” she said to Sophy with a smile, “you are all set, despite the tenderness in your ankle.”

  Choking back tears, Sophy thanked the children, hugging each in turn. Her feelings overcame her again when she was alone in her room. She could not stop thinking of the kindness and devotion the gift represented. The children were willing to let her go because it was what she wanted. Yet how could she leave the nieces and nephews who loved her and whom she loved so? The gift left her feeling as burdened as she was grateful.

  She sat at her desk and reread the letter from the mission society. Beside it lay the acceptance letter she had delayed posting because of the holidays. The walking stick was propped beside the door, ready to see her off. Now, with Jeremy gone and that part of her life behind her, the truth struck her.

  She knew for certain she could not go. She would remain in her country with her family where she belonged. The wave of relief that swept over her nearly crushed her in its intensity.

  But it was too late, she realized, forlorn again, to salvage the other part of her life. Jeremy had left. And what she might have had with him was gone as well.

  “AND SO,” SOPHY concluded the next morning, glancing from her mother to Barclay, “now that I am staying here rather than going to America, it seems only appropriate that I keep an open mind as I turn my attention to my future. No doubt my decision will please you both. I am happy with it as well.”

  Having described the change of heart that had brought about her decision, she sat back in her chair at the breakfast table where she had asked the pair to remain with her after the others had finished and departed. She did not have to wait long for their reaction, for exclamations of joy and enthusiasm burst forth from both almost before she had finished speaking.

  “It really is time you seriously considered marriage,” her mother said gently. “You have made a great sacrifice in giving up your plans and staying here instead, but now we must see to your happiness.”

  “But I am happy,” Sophy insisted. “Being here with you is all I need.”

  “Perhaps for now,” her mother said as she smoothed Sophy’s hair from her face tenderly. “I appreciate your loyalty to me, but I have already discussed it with your brothers, and we feel it is time for you to find someone you can love as well.”

  Sophy groaned inwardly at her mother’s words. If the subject had been discussed among her mother and brothers, her fate was already decided.

  “Now it’s Sophy’s turn,” Barclay declared, as if reading her mind. “Since she hasn’t decided, perhaps we should allow Fate to find her a mate and leave it to First Foot.”

  The reference to the ancient custom sent a shiver through her. “We have discussed this already. Surely you can’t be serious.”

  “You know,” Barclay continued, his enthusiasm growing, “it might be the best way to find a husband for you. Not to take it lightly, but whoever makes the first appearance at our door will be a man who is putting his best foot forward with you in mind.”

  Sophy had to admit she had given unfair regard to the attentions of her potential suitors. They at least had been willing to get to know the part of her life they had observed on this side of the ocean. Realizing her mother and Barclay knew her better than anyone and had her interests at heart, she reluctantly agreed to consider the plan. It hardly mattered who she married after all, she thought wearily, for the one who probably would have made the best match was now out of consideration.

  The men who were left had all been in a frenzy when the First Foot tradition was brought up. Sophy knew Barclay must have told them of the plan.

  “I haven’t known any of these men long enough,” she complained to her brother. “How long have you known Arabella?”

  “We met in town toward the end of last Season. She can be stubborn, but I’m used to that.” Barclay gave her a teasing glance that made her hope she too could become as flexible when the dreaded time came. “Do you think I haven’t known her long enough?”

  “No,” she admitted. “Even when you’ve known someone for a long time, you sometimes don’t know them as well as you think. Or they believed in you and supported you once, but no longer do so.”

  She had no time to wallow in regret, for the First Foot discussions reached a feverish pitch over the next few days.

  “The game is on for Miss Templeton’s affections!” Sampson Hodge said one evening with such relish it alarmed Sophy. “Who shall be her First Foot? With Viscount Cobleigh having left early, the odds have improved considerably.”

  With the pressure on, Sophy found herself unable to avoid Humphrey’s a
ttentions. He courted her furiously during the week following Christmas, suggesting activities they might enjoy in London from the horsemanship at Astley’s Amphitheatre to the latest exhibition at the Royal Academy.

  “Let us set the First Foot rules,” Eddie reminded them one evening, when their ministrations had all but worn out Sophy.

  “The First Footer must not arrive empty-handed,” Herbert Prindle spoke up. “Tell us, would you prefer coal or salt?”

  “I like the idea of staying warm,” Harry said with a smile, “so I find coal the ideal gift. In rural areas such as ours, some residents leave a lump of coal outside the door so they can serve as their own First Footer.”

  “But there are some rules as well,” Sophy’s mother cautioned. “It is not permissible to wait beyond the gate until after the New Year and then rush the door at the stroke of midnight.”

  “Anyone else?” Humphry Fotherington continued lightly. “Bread? Money? Perhaps whiskey would suit better.”

  “Whatever you bring,” Emma said, “you shall be offered food and drink in return.”

  Only after he was invited inside, Sophy thought. Maybe she would not invite any of them in, and the silly tradition would come to an abrupt end. She smiled, attempting to find joy in the realization that these men were willing to compete for her hand.

  “Of course, it’s best,” Jane spoke up with what Sophy considered ridiculous solemnity, “if the First Footer is a tall, dark-haired man. No one who resembles a Viking. Sorry, Eddie,” she added, flashing a smile at her brother-in-law amid laughter.

  “I am neither tall nor dark-haired,” Herbert Prindle said, crestfallen, “so perhaps I am eliminated by virtue of my build.”

  “You might not be tall,” Sampson Hodge joked, “but you’ll appear that way if we have Teddy answer the door.”

  With the competition mounting, Sophy was not surprised to find Herbert Prindle talking with Barclay late one afternoon. The pair were smoking cigars, while the others in the household had paired off to engage in rounds of piquet.

  Barclay blew a puff of smoke, grinning at Sophy. “One less for you to worry about,” he announced. “Herbert’s dropped out of the race.”

  “I am sorry to hear this, Mr. Prindle,” Sophy said gravely. “Pray do not do so on my account. Having come to the realization it is time for me to wed, I will make the best choice possible.”

  “Lovely as you are, Miss Templeton,” Herbert replied, “I believe I am destined to be a bachelor.”

  Sophy smiled. “Then we have more in common than I thought. Perhaps I am destined to be a spinster.”

  “Never,” Herbert said. “I don’t believe it’s in the cards. I suspect great things are in store for you, with many happy surprises along the way.”

  “Then it is down to two gentlemen,” Sophy surmised, intrigued with the concept suddenly.

  “Two that we know of,” Herbert reminded her with a wink.

  “Whatever you do, Soph,” Barclay warned sharply, “at least act as if you intend to go through with it, else the fellows at the clubs will start taking odds that you’ll cry off.”

  She suspected he had consumed too much brandy to see the depth of her pain. “Perhaps as Herbert suggests, spinsterhood is not in my future after all. Ah, well, I shall simply have to be patient to see who begs my hand at the door after midnight.”

  No matter who it is, she thought with a pang of dread.

  AS THE DAYS passed, her family made Sophy well aware she must consciously choose one man over another. Yet how was she to do so when the one her heart yearned to see, the one who mattered most, was in the next county? He was not far when it came to counting miles, though he might as well have been, for he felt impossibly far beyond her reach. Worse, it was all her fault—again.

  Once, as she tiptoed throughout the house, avoiding places the men gathered, she overheard them when they thought her out of earshot. As they competed in the race for her hand, they discussed which amusements might please her and what they would show her in London. She was both amused and exasperated to hear their thoughts, with grumbling and excitement part of everyone’s journey to the New Year, just as they had been in the old.

  Satisfied to see his sister happily betrothed, Herbert Prindle remained impassive while Sampson Hodge continued to press his suit. Humphrey Fotherington treated her as if he had already won her hand.

  “You do have a choice here,” Barclay reminded her, “though Fotherington seems to feel he is in the lead.”

  This time Sophy remembered to think before she spoke. “It is not precisely the solution I might have chosen, but if he asks for my hand, I suppose I shall accept.”

  Having consented to the idea, she could find little else to say on the matter. Some days her future felt as bleak as the winter landscape, for she had no realistic hope of a relationship with Jeremy. Meanwhile, as speculation continued as to what would make the most appropriate First Foot gift, two men waited here for her to decide among them. She saw no reason to look further.

  SHE WAS PARTICULARLY vigilant the day before New Year’s Eve as she watched for some sign of hope. Fate responded with a snowstorm that whitewashed the countryside, bringing a bitter wind that whipped about and blinding snow that seemed to fall endlessly. The view from the window reminded her of an old rhyme about wind that came out of the northeast. Flee it, man and brute, the rhyme advised. Jeremy had certainly fled it as best he could.

  Even if he changed his mind, she realized with growing dismay as snow continued to fall the next morning, he would never make it in time because of the deep snows. Fate, she was forced to admit, had apparently decreed that they should not be together.

  Tonight her family would ring in the New Year with the customary toast of “Waes haeil,” Be well, with the clink of glasses. The custom was medieval, but Sophy’s dilemma was modern, one that brought quiet despair.

  She wondered if it were even possible for her to be happy without Jeremy. In his absence she saw the truth. If she had felt devastated thinking she might not return to America, it was nothing compared to knowing someone else would be first through the door on New Year’s Day. Her future was one day closer, and the truth hung heavy over her.

  It was customary that all quarrels were put aside on New Year’s Day, but Jeremy was too far away to know of her change in heart. While no one was required to pay any debt for the first week of the New Year, Sophy owed him a debt she could never repay.

  “Well, this is it,” Barclay said to her when they met in passing on the staircase that afternoon.

  “This is it.” She managed a strained smile. She would be brave for her family, for they mattered more than anything. “Bark, I must ask. Did you talk to Jeremy before he left?”

  “We talked, but not about you.” He must have seen her face fall, for he added, “He only said it was a business matter he had to attend to. Whatever it was, it seemed very important to him.”

  Sophy accepted Barclay’s words and tried to dismiss Jeremy from her thoughts. At midnight, she promised herself, just as she had promised her mother, that the first man through the door would be the man she would wed.

  The evening hours passed with gay revelry. Barclay and Arabella looked forward to their nuptials in the year to come, while Harry and Jane and Eddie and Emma looked forward to watching their children continue to blossom. Their mother, Sophy knew, looked forward to seeing her only daughter settled at last, living closer to home where they could resume the intimate bond they’d shared before Sophy went away.

  For Sophy, the hours ticked by painfully slowly as the stakes were raised. The merriment of the holidays and the humor that accompanied their First Foot dares had faded for her, with tension left in its wake. With two hours left until midnight, raucous laughter dwindled to casual conversation, then quiet reflection, and, finally, to silence.

  Stick-
skinny Sampson Hodge broke a wine glass when he accidentally dropped it in front of the fire, while Herbert Prindle, exasperatingly calm, paced repeatedly from one end of the drawing room to the other, increasing his pace, then slowing it, until Sophy feared the carpet would be in tatters before midnight.

  Only Humphrey Fotherington managed to maintain his confident demeanor, a realization that frightened Sophy more as the minutes ticked by.

  At one point, Teddy and Emily grew so sleepy that Emma and Eddie carried them upstairs to bed, with her mother volunteering to stay with the children. Jonathan and Susannah sat quietly by the fire, playing cards and enjoying staying up late in the company of adults.

  At one point, Barclay passed close to where Sophy sat, leaning over to whisper in her ear, ”Perhaps Jeremy will come yet.”

  “What makes you say that?” she returned, hoping she did not sound as frantic as she felt. “Did he give you reason to believe he might?”

  “I can’t put it into words,” Barclay confessed. “It’s just a feeling. I don’t suppose it means much, but I hope he comes.” He rested his hand on her shoulder briefly. “If this is a contest,” he whispered fiercely, “it’s one he ought to win.”

  Then he walked away, returning to the silent group.

  As the grandfather clock chimed eleven, Herbert Prindle expressed a desire to go out for some air. Fifteen minutes later, Sampson Hodge gave Sophy his wide smile and promised to return by morning. Looking around, she saw no sign of Humphrey. Her heart pounded so hard she found herself sweating.

  “What do they plan to do?” she asked Barclay in desperation.

  “I don’t know,” he replied, the curiosity in his eyes so evident she did not doubt him. “No one shared his plans with me.”

  Her mother returned downstairs several moments later, taking a seat beside Sophy as she attempted to offer support. “You made this decision with the courage I’ve come to expect from you,” she said softly. “I’m proud of you, Sophy. I am certain this New Year promises great happiness for you.”

  Sophy returned her smile, unconvinced. She tried but failed to steady her nerves as midnight approached. Over the past week this moment appeared to be coming too quickly. Now time seemed to have stopped, as if it, too, were unable to make headway in the storm that raged beyond their windows.