by Lucy Langton
Sophia sighed to herself. What a strange day. And it would not improve with time either.
The breakfast wore on throughout most of the day. The servants continued to bring out hot food, which transitioned from breakfast fare to tea sandwiches, and finally trays of what appeared to be supper were carried out. There was dancing, of course, and much chatting and gossiping throughout the day.
The sun finally set and night was upon them. As guests began to leave, Sophia felt butterflies in her stomach. The time was upon them. The moment of truth. Looking about for Lord Timothy, she could not find him. Perhaps he was preparing for their wedding night, freshening himself up, changing into a more comfortable suit.
Sophia went to her room where Arabella prepared her. Her hair was loosened and softened, her gold gown was exchanged for a white one with a plunging neckline, her jewels were removed, and her face was washed clean. Sophia was ready for whatever that night had in store for her.
“Go to him,” Arabella said with a smile.
“Is now the time?”
“Now is definitely the time.”
Sophia walked down the hall to where she knew Lord Timothy’s chambers to be. She thought it odd that he did not come and summon her, but perhaps that was all part of the ritual.
She gently knocked upon his door, and hearing no response, she pushed the door open, revealing Lord Timothy, lying face down on his bed. Her heart began to pound in her chest, thinking he might be dead, until it occurred to Sophia that Lord Timothy was passed out drunk on their wedding night. She felt tears come to her eyes but would not let them fall.
Sophia exited the room without closing the door, running down the hall back to her room. She was relieved that Arabella was no longer there as Sophia wished to be alone. She flung herself down upon the bed, in much the same fashion that she found Lord Timothy, and finally allowed the tears to come rushing out.
Was this what marriage was like? Was this what she was to expect for every remaining day of her life? What had she done to deserve this? Sophia feel so alone. So utterly alone.
Sophia cried herself to sleep that night. It was not at all what she expected on her wedding day and it broke her heart. Did her father know he was marrying her off to such a brute? And what did the Barberry family seek to gain from aligning with the Clumber name?
Although she was now Lady Sophia, future duchess, it meant little to her. Sophia had never felt so alone in the world and couldn’t help but regret that the terrible union was ever thrust upon her. She’d have to figure out how to survive at Willow Grange, without further destruction to her heart and spirit.
Chapter 5
The following morning, Sophia woke up in a daze. Had the day before even truly happened? The wedding was beautiful and refined, Sophia looked exquisite and the future duke was quite dashing, so how was it that Sophia awoke in a bed by herself the next day?
Arabella helped to dress her in a simple pink muslin gown, pearls were placed around her neck, and little crystal earrings were hung from her ears. Looking in the mirror, Sophia could see that she looked as beautiful as ever, yet she was still in possession of her maidenhead and it infuriated her.
“How was last night?” Arabella asked sheepishly.
“I don’t wish to discuss it,” Sophia replied, and that was the end of the conversation.
Despite her anger and humiliation, Sophia found that she had a strong appetite that morning and came down to breakfast promptly at eight. The dining room was set for a grand breakfast, as there were some guests who were still in attendance from the endless day before. They all had smiling faces, and everyone greeted the future Duchess of Clumber with relish, but inside, Sophia’s heart was sinking.
“And where is Lord Timothy?” one gentleman asked.
“I’m afraid he slept in this morning. It was a rather long day yesterday.”
“And a long night, last night,” the man said cheekily.
Sophia wanted to roll her eyes, but to do so in proper society would be inappropriate. Instead, she displayed a polite smile and found her seat at the table.
She looked around the room to locate her husband. He was still nowhere in sight. No doubt he was still passed out from the previous day’s drinking. Was Lord Timothy always going to have such trouble with alcohol? Had she unwittingly married a drunk? The thought infuriated Sophia even more.
“Good morning,” she heard a voice flatly say, and the individual that plopped into the chair beside her was Philip.
“Good morning,” Sophia repeated.
After the initial greeting, there was silence between them as both waited for hot tea to be served. Sophia found that she was in desperate need of a good cup of tea. She was accustomed to drinking coffee in her former life in America – and she did consider it a former life – and the need for the stimulation from that hot brew was vexing her.
Sophia looked forward, gazing at the arrangement of fruit and fresh pastries on the table, until she felt Philip’s eyes turn and gaze upon her. He said nothing while he did so, and Sophia felt like she was in the proximity of a wild jungle animal, to which one should never turn one’s gaze and make eye contact. Finally, the inspection went on for so long that Sophia felt she must speak.
“Is there something amiss?” she asked politely, turning and confronting him.
“I’m merely awaiting my breakfast,” Philip said with a smile, not looking away.
“From the way you’re looking at me, one would think you expect me to deliver it to you.”
Those words were enough to finally make Philip look away and laugh. Sophia returned her gaze to the fruit. There was something that she did notice as she and Philip made their brief eye contact, and that was that the fellow had shocking green eyes. She had not noticed it before. Whereas Lord Timothy had bright blue eyes and sandy blond hair, Philip had emerald green eyes – not unlike her own – and slightly ginger colouring. She had to admit that she admired it a great deal.
“How was my brother?” Philip asked.
“I beg your pardon?” Sophia replied.
“In bed?” Philip asked, turning his eyes on her yet again.
“Funny, I always assumed the British were famous for their well-studied manners,” Sophia said, turning towards him.
“It’s all a lie,” Philip went on. “Deep down we’re all cheeky bastards.”
“So it seems.”
The two of them laughed, and Sophia was amazed that Philip was engaging her in such humour.
“I need a drink,” Philip said.
“Then you’re just like your brother,” Sophia replied.
“A glass of cold juice. What did you think I meant?”
“A morning cup of ale.”
“Actually, that doesn’t sound half bad.”
Sophia noticed that Philip was wearing the same uniform that he always wore, however that morning, it was quite dishevelled, as though he had slept in it. She assumed he must have found some unsuspecting lady with whom to share his bed the night before. For a moment, Sophia was mildly jealous.
Tea was finally served, as was the traditional English breakfast. Although Sophia did not initially think that she’d like the English breakfast, it was beginning to please her.
Philip, as though testing Sophia’s nerves, brought his fork over to her plate and poked it into one of her sausages, lifting it up into the air and bringing it to his mouth.
“Is that some kind of crude joke?” she asked.
“I’m merely teasing you,” Philip said, placing the sausage back on her plate. “Considering that you spent the evening with my brother, I trust that you need a good laugh. And I like to see you smile.”
Philip grinned from ear to ear like a schoolboy, and Sophia found the image of it delightful.
“I didn’t realise you were such a clown,” she finally said.
“Lady, you have no idea.”
They continued their eating in silence again. Philip began some polite conversation with the gentleman a
t his left, and Sophia was left to wonder why it was that her face felt slightly flushed and she was breaking out into a cold sweat. There was something about the presence of Philip that morning that was playing upon her nerves in frustrating and delicious ways.
Perhaps it was due to the disappointment from the night before. Sophia had been anxious to receive her husband in the manner in which she was supposed to. She anticipated what the physical contact might be like, and the strange and new sensation that her body might feel. Considering that she was left to herself, cold and alone, it seemed as though her body seemed primed for some kind of contact, any contact. It was as though Philip could see all of that, and she felt his compassion, delivered in the form of biting humour.
Just then, Lord Timothy finally came stumbling into the breakfast room. His appearance was pristine, but his eyes were weighty and sunken. As he looked about the room, slightly disoriented, he finally located a chair and sat himself down, pushing back the tails of his coat.
“Well, well,” Philip said under his breath.
“I did not think he would come down,” Sophia said.
Sophia watched as Lord Timothy was served his tea, and picked up his teacup with a shaky, desperate hand. He began to eat his food greedily and paid little attention to those around him.
***
What Philip could not let go from his mind was the burning desire to know what had happened the night before. Did Sophia lose her maidenhead to his brother, or did Lord Timothy pass out from drunkenness? Philip secretly hoped it was the latter, for he harboured a secret desire to have Sophia for himself.
“Do you like our country?” Philip asked, wishing to make polite small talk.
“I have not experienced much of it thus far,” Sophia replied.
“You’ll be lucky if you ever leave Willow Grange. The Clumbers are ‘home bodies’, as I’ve heard the saying goes.”
“Well, not me. I like to venture to new places,” Sophia said indignantly.
“Best of luck with that hope,” Philip replied with a smile.
His belly full, Philip spread out his knees under the table, brushing his right knee upon Sophia’s. She jumped a little from the contact.
“My apologies,” Philip said, genuinely embarrassed.
An overwhelming attraction hit Philip just then, as though it came out of nowhere. Perhaps it was Sophia’s black hair, or her green eyes that had that effect. For a moment, it made Philip’s heart quake and he brushed the feeling away.
He watched as his brother got up from his seat and walked their way. Timothy greeted Philip with a nod of the head and then brought his hands to Sophia’s shoulders, greeting her with a gentle touch.
Philip scowled. Seeing his brother’s hands on Sophia made him feel angry for reasons he could not understand. And what’s more, it appeared as though Sophia found the contact to be pleasing, which angered him even more.
“I trust that you slept well,” Timothy said.
“Very well,” Sophia replied with a faint smile.
“Most good.”
Philip thought to himself that his brother was some kind of inane cad in that moment. Did he not just clearly give away that the two of them had not shared the same bed? If he wanted to know whether or not Sophia had slept well, he could have damn well rolled over in his sheets and asked her.
There was no intimacy between them. Philip was sure of it. At least, it felt good to convince himself of it.
***
Timothy placing his hands on her shoulders had been the most physical contact Sophia had received from her husband, and it had instantly warmed her. Was there still hope for them having an intimate, physical relationship with one another?
He walked away and returned to his seat, and Sophia couldn’t help but wonder if he had only greeted her in the first place as a kind of show. It was what he was supposed to do. She felt her heart sink at the notion of it.
Once again, she felt Philip’s eyes turned towards her and Sophia met his gaze, seeing that one of his brows was lifted in doubt.
“What?” Sophia asked, wishing to understand his expression.
“Absolutely nothing at all,” Philip replied, turning away from her.
As breakfast wore on, Sophia began to wonder where Emily was. She politely excused herself from the table and went up to her aunt’s room, where she found the woman in tears.
“Whatever is the matter?” Sophia asked, putting her arms around her.
“I’m leaving today,” Emily said through her tears.
“I’m jealous that you get to venture out to sea again,” Sophia said with a humorous laugh.
“I’ll probably take ill again,” Emily replied, blowing her nose into her handkerchief.
“I don’t think you will. You’ll enjoy the freedom.”
“Are you going to be all right here?” Emily asked.
“Of course, I’ll be all right. I have Arabella.”
“Arabella should not be the one to look after you. It should be your husband.”
Sophia was taken aback by Emily’s words. Could she sense that there was already a rift between her and Lord Timothy? Sophia wished to keep up appearances, but she could not lie to her aunt.
“He’ll come around,” Sophia said softly.
“He had better,” Emily replied with unveiled animosity.
***
Sophia chose to undertake the carriage-ride to the port with her aunt that afternoon. She enjoyed the ride, and the marvellous countryside outside the window. Emily cried some more, but there was laughter as well. More than anything else, Sophia was grateful for the brief time that they had shared.
“You’ll come home and visit, I trust,” Emily said as she stood before the great ship in the harbour.
“Of course, I will.”
Sophia felt a pang in her chest, for she did wish to visit New York, but she did not know when that would be. She still did not understand the demands of her new life, and what was to be expected of her.
The two women embraced and, as Emily walked up the little bridge towards the ship, Sophia pushed back a tear. She was sad to see her aunt leave, and the future still seemed so uncertain.
Yes, Sophia would return to a cold home. Willow Grange, despite its beauty, was lacking in warmth. She wished that she could amend that somehow, but the coolness did not come from the decor but rather from the people who lived there. There was no way in which Sophia could fix that.
But, riding home in the same carriage, finally having a moment to herself, Sophia thought of one thing and one thing alone: Philip. He was a nincompoop, but at least he was amusing. He was infuriating, but at least he was handsome. Philip left Sophia with the hope that even if she was destined for a cold marriage bed, at least she’d have someone to spar with. Someone to infuriate her and make her laugh. She was unfamiliar with the depth of Philip’s character. In fact, she barely knew him. But she sensed that in Philip she would find a sparring partner that would serve as good distraction, at the very least.
As the carriage continued its journey, Sophia gazed out of the window at the remarkable rolling hills and lush trees. Yes, England was a beautiful country, and one day she would become a duchess. Already her life was taking her to rich and unexpected places, and there was no telling where she’d go next. Hopefully, the rest of her days wouldn’t see her confined to Willow Grange. That is, unless there was someone pleasant with whom to share a bed.
