Miss Sophie's Secret

by Fran Baker

  “Indeed?” her mother exclaimed, straightening up and giving her daughter another penetrating look.

  Jeanette withdrew her hand and stared unhappily down at the floor.

  Jonathan cleared his throat. “I believe I have found the very carriage for you, Aunt Ruth. One of the new barouches—dark blue with wheels picked out in yellow. It is the latest kick of fashion.”

  Lady Biskup smiled. “It sounds delightful, my dear.”

  He glanced toward Lady Englewood, who was still scowling furiously at him. “Yes, uh, well,” he began. “If you will excuse me . . . Your servant, ma’am.” He bowed and quickly left the room.

  The moment the door closed behind him, Lady Biskup glared at Lady Englewood. “I have never been so shocked and disgusted by anyone’s behavior. To think that you would treat a guest of mine with such coldness and arrogance, Blanche.”

  “Guest!” Lady Englewood exclaimed. “Do you mean to tell me that you have taken that viper into your nest? He will be sitting in our midst like a fox among the fowls. If you think I intend to allow that penniless, plain-faced, shabby-genteel mushroom to insinuate his way into Jeanette’s heart, you are sadly off the mark, I assure you!”

  “Mama!” Jeanette cried, her face flushing an even darker crimson.

  Ignoring her, Lady Englewood pressed on. “As I see it, it would be a kindness to speak frankly to him. He is only the son of an impoverished soldier, and should divest himself of pretensions. You, who are fond of him, my love, should let him know that he is thinking too high if he expects to find a wife among the ton. Tell him this in a gentle way, but tell him firmly. Tell him that it would be best for him to leave London immediately and not attempt to mingle with society.”

  Lady Biskup’s lips were drawn into a thin line. “Let me be certain that I understand you, Blanche. You want me to say to him, ‘Jonathan, my dearest boy, despite your unexceptionable birth, excellent character, and unbesmirched reputation—not to mention your years of self-sacrifice and the dangers to which you have subjected yourself while serving your country on the battlefield—Lady Englewood has decided that you are not grand enough to associate with—’”

  Lady Englewood fluttered her hands. “No, no. I see that it cannot be done. And, in any case, there is no cause for concern, as Jeanette is pledged to Fairmont.”

  “It is not decided,” Jeanette said. “I have not accepted him.”

  Lady Englewood bristled. “And why you have not done so is more than I can understand. We cannot expect him to wait patiently while you dawdle and simper. He is rich, grandly connected, and delightfully tall—the perfect husband, I should say. Some other girl will certainly rush in and snap him up if you do not do so immediately.”

  “And with him so tall, Jeanette dear, that would be unfortunate, indeed,” Lady Biskup said in a wry tone.

  “But I do not love him,” Jeanette said.

  “Love!” Lady Englewood cried. “Pray what does love have to do with the matter?” She turned to Lady Biskup. “Speak sense to her, Ruth. These young girls today have been ruined by reading rubbishy novels. Mrs. Radcliffe, indeed! Pah!”

  Lady Biskup rose to her feet and gave the bell pull a yank. “Yes, yes, we all know where our duty lies. Now we shall have a bit of tea to refresh us and clear away all unpleasant thoughts. Sophie, Jeanette, you may take yourselves off into a corner for a cozy chat.”

  The door opened and Leeds stepped into the room.

  “We shall have some tea, please,” Lady Biskup said.

  “Yes, m’lady. And with your permission, m’lady, a Mr. Albert de Lisle is waiting in the blue withdrawing room, in the hope that your ladyship will receive him.”

  Lady Biskup let out a snort of indignation. “Indeed! That presumptuous puppy! How does he have the audacity . . .?”

  She hesitated and glanced toward Sophie. For several seconds she sat considering her niece intently.

  “I shall inform him that your ladyship is not at home,” Leeds suggested.

  “No,” she said. “Perhaps it would be best to receive him. You may show him in, Leeds.”

  Sophie turned away. Her heart was beating rapidly, and to her surprise she found that she was reluctant to face Albert. After the years of longing, then the shock of his denial, she was in such a state of confusion that she could not sort out her feelings. This was not the reunion she had visualized. With her two aunts and one cousin in the room, she would not be able to run to meet him and slip her hands into his. There would be no ardent embrace—no stolen kisses. In fact, she wondered how he could possibly repair the damage he had done to their relationship this morning.

  Before she could steady herself, the door opened and Albert stepped into the room. She saw, to her surprise, that he was uneasy, his cheeks flushed and his gaze moving nervously from one lady to another. He bowed gracefully to each of them.

  If anything, he was more handsome than he had been when he visited Vaile Priory. His hair, which was dark and curly, lay in perfect coils around his smooth temples. His eyes, a penetrating blue, looked steadily into hers before turning to Lady Biskup.

  “Indeed, you are here, my dear aunt,” he murmured in his silken voice. “My friend, Peter Joshua, insisted that it was you, whom I had inadvertently abandoned, but I could not believe him. Please accept my sincerest apologies for failing to rush back immediately to make everything right; but I had remembered a pressing engagement with Lord Leach at the Home Office, which I had foolishly forgotten, and it was necessary for me to meet with him and make my apologies before I could come to you. Now I throw myself on your mercy and beg forgiveness, which I’ve no doubt you’ll bestow, as you’ve always been the kindest and most generous of relations, from the time I was a small boy—almost like a mother.”

  Lady Biskup, who had sat stone-faced throughout this outpouring, her lips primmed and both fists bunched in her lap, took a long, deep breath. “And how, pray, did this Peter Joshua come to recognize me? I know of no one, old or young, by that name.”

  “By the crest on your carriage,” he pointed out. “He insisted that it was Lord Reginald’s. And when I allowed myself to consider, I realized that it was indeed you, Aunt Ruth, of whom I had caught the most fleeting of glimpses. I could not believe that the young lady was Sophie, however, as she was a mere child when I saw her last. But as I put one fact together with another, I realized that Sophie must now be seventeen—soon to be eighteen years of age.” He turned to give her a smile of approval. “And I am gratified to see that she has grown into a young lady of quite remarkable beauty.”

  He sobered and assumed an expression of suffering. “Alas, I was nearly to Lord Leach’s office before I had sorted out all the evidence and realized that it was most probably my beloved family that I had so thoughtlessly slighted. But you see that I have come to you at the earliest possible moment to make amends.”

  A heavy silence greeted his long-winded explanation.

  Albert cleared his throat and began again. “It has been the greatest source of sadness to me that I have been unable to visit you at Vaile Priory these past years. My life has been completely occupied with duty and hardship. My father has been ill; I’ve been obliged to assume his responsibilities. We have had poor harvests and much sorrow on our island. At last, I am happy to say, I have been able to ease the suffering of my people. Their lot is happier and continues to improve, for which I am deeply grateful. Now I am again able to indulge my own needs for warmth and friendship.”

  He glanced from one lady to another. Lady Englewood had taken a handkerchief from her reticule and was applying it to her eyes.

  “I have come to wonder,” he continued, “if I have not, perhaps, been too self-denying these past years—my mother would have guided me if she had lived. I am convinced that a man should sometimes—in the most important things—allow his heart to govern his head.”

  Sophie, Jeanette, and Lady Biskup stared into space with glazed expressions, but Lady Englewood reached out a hand.

&nb
sp; “Poor boy,” she commiserated, “your words ring so true. And a woman’s head should always be governed by her heart.”

  She caught sight of Jeanette’s quizzical expression, and her eyebrows rose sharply. “No, no, that is not what I meant to say.” She twisted her handkerchief between her fingers. “One’s duty is of paramount importance. One should never allow one’s heart to cloud one’s judgment.”

  Albert shook his head. “I have lived by that maxim these past four years and have found no pleasure in it, ma’am.” He turned to Lady Biskup. “But now that my friends have gathered around me again, I am confident I’ll feel a lifting of the spirit.”

  He bowed. “I am planning a small dinner party tomorrow evening and would be delighted to have all of you, my dearest friends, join me.”

  Lady Biskup nodded coolly. “You must excuse us, Albert. We are not settled in as yet.”

  “I shall trust then that you will soon honor me with your company.”

  He glanced at Sophie, his face soft and ingratiating. To her surprise, she felt a flutter of annoyance. He waited a moment, his gaze lingering on her, before he turned back to Lady Biskup.

  “I shall bid you good day, now that I have delivered my best wishes and welcomed you to town.” He gave her a radiant smile, then bowed with equal cordiality to each of the ladies.

  If he had hoped to be detained by gracious urgings, he was disappointed. While the others kept their gazes downcast, Lady Biskup nodded brusquely and said, “Good day, sir.”

  With a sigh and a nod to them all, Albert departed.

  “Well, the poor young man,” Lady Englewood breathed. “I’m sure I cannot bear to see him so pulled down.”

  “Poor young man, nonsense!’ Lady Biskup sniffed. “I’ve never heard such utter fustian in my life! Let us face the facts. He cuts us, and now he is sorry. A more conniving and false-hearted creature, I cannot imagine—”

  “But he is so delightfully handsome,” Lady Englewood mourned. “He has a smile like an angel.” She turned to her daughter and wagged a finger at her. “Now, Jeanette, I must warn you. You are not to fall in love with him, do you understand me? I shall not have you saddle yourself with a pauper and a musty old castle full of mold and mildew, no matter how comely its lord might be.”

  “Don’t worry, Mama,” Jeanette assured her. “I have no intention of doing so.”

  Chapter 5

  When Lady Biskup made her way downstairs that evening, resplendent in a gold satin gown, diamond tiara, and claret velvet opera cloak, she was pleased to find Jonathan awaiting her arrival on a brocade sofa in the grand salon. He was dressed in the black satin coat and knee breeches that had replaced the colorful formal attire of Ruth’s youth, with the only break in severity being a starched white cravat. As he rose to greet her, it occurred to her that although he had been a rather plain boy, he had grown into a handsome man, lean and long-legged, with a hint of humor lying always behind his dark eyes. He nodded toward her now, smiling.

  “So, Aunt Ruth,” he began, “we have received Albert de Lisle’s initial sortie and have successfully repulsed it, I understand.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Have we, indeed? I wonder. That is, I am unsure of his effect on Sophie. Does she accept his nonsensical tale? His delivery was so false and theatrical, I cannot believe that anyone with an ounce of sense . . . But Sophie is such a kindhearted little thing, I fear she may have swallowed his farradiddle and become re-enamored of him, which I cannot like.”

  “Nor I,” he said. “However, if she truly loves him . . . Though I will not face that possibility as yet.”

  “I’d have been able to expose his villainy for all to see,” Lady Biskup continued, scowling at the memory, “if Blanche—that ninnyhammer—had not been taken in by his rhetoric. And, Jonathan, we have another thorn in our side. This silly creature is in high fidgets at the thought that you might attempt to wrench Jeanette from Fairmont’s loving arms. Will you?”

  He cocked a quizzical brow at her. “Wrench? Certainly not! What are Jeanette’s feelings in this matter?”

  “She says that she does not love him.”

  Jonathan sighed. “But Fairmont loves her—there can be no doubt about that. He speaks of nothing else, poor Roger.”

  “Blanche is quite determined that Jeanette shall marry him. The girl nearly wept when her mother chided her for hanging back.”

  Jonathan tapped a thoughtful finger upon his smooth-shaven chin. “Perhaps she is in love with someone else.”

  “Well, that is possible. In fact, I am under the impression that she is. I wonder who it could be. You don’t suppose it’s that odious Albert de Lisle?”

  “Good God! I hope not!” His mouth tightened at one corner. “No one could possibly find a sweeter, gentler, more beautiful wife than Jeanette.”

  “What?” called a voice from the hallway. “Are you speaking of Jeanette? Please wait until I’m with you before you continue.”

  Sophie fluttered into the room, a black velvet opera cloak thrown over her simple white gown, and her eyes shining with excitement.

  “What were you saying about Jeanette?” she asked.

  “Jonathan was saying that she is the sweetest, gentlest and . . . what was it you said, my dear, most beautiful wife a man could wish for?”

  Sophie was silent for a moment, her lips pressed tightly together. Then she smiled. “It is true. And if you wish to make her your own, Jonathan, you shall have her, despite Lady Englewood’s insistence that she marry Fairmont. Certainly Jeanette would be happier with a man of your temperament than with a cold, unfeeling stick such as Lord Fairmont.”

  “Wait,” he protested. “Fairmont is not a stick. Neither is he cold and unfeeling. He would make Jeanette an excellent, compassionate husband, I have no doubt And, Sophie, please do not attempt to promote a match between Jeanette and me. Nothing but misery will result if you interfere with nature’s plan.”

  She bit her lower lip and then opened her mouth. But before she could speak, he added, “You spoke to Albert today. What was your opinion of him?”

  Sophie looked up at Jonathan, her huge brown eyes shining with confused emotions. “I thought . . . that is, I should not wish to be labeled cynical or quick to censor, but . . . Well, I fear that I doubted his words.” Sighing, she shook her head. “That is, if not doubted exactly, I wondered if he were completely sincere. Or if sincere, was he, perhaps, coloring his memory in order to recall what he wished to believe true, rather than what was actually true?”

  Jonathan nodded solemnly.

  “Either case is as bad as the other,” Lady Biskup pointed out. “What is the difference between outright lies and lies which someone believes to be true?”

  “No difference,” Sophie agreed.

  Jonathan fastened his cloak at his throat and assisted Sophie in fastening hers. “We’ll put it out of our minds and give ourselves up wholly to the enjoyment of the play we are about to attend.”

  “Yes,” Sophie said, smiling. “And to the enjoyment of our friends. Jeanette will be there. And Fairmont, and Fairmont’s mother, and . . . I wonder who else.”

  The party that awaited them in the Englewood box at the theater was hosted by the baron and baroness. Lady Biskup clasped her brother’s hand with a display of affection that was normally foreign to her nature. In return, Lord Englewood planted a quick kiss upon her brow.

  The Englewoods’ guests included Fairmont and his mother, Jeanette, Nicky, and one of the young ladies who had accompanied Lady Englewood to Madame Young’s that morning—the pretty little brunette. She was dressed in a simple white gown that was almost identical to Sophie’s, and had their hair not been arranged in two strikingly different modes, they could have been mistaken for sisters.

  Nicky laughed brightly, “Look here, Ellen,” he said, taking Sophie by the hand and turning her first one way and then another. “You look enough alike to be sisters. You must get to know each other better. Sophie Althorpe, Ellen Joysey.”

  E
llen smiled warmly at Sophie. “I have always wanted a sister, and you shall be she.”

  Sophie nodded. “I have always wanted a sister, too. From now on, let it be so.”

  Turning slowly to survey the other members of the party, Sophie noted that Jonathan, who was talking to Jeanette and Fairmont, was also watching them curiously.

  “What are you buzzing about?” he asked her.

  Sophie took Ellen’s hand and led her over to him. “Have you met Ellen Joysey? We are going to be sisters, henceforth.”

  “You are a pair, to be sure,” he agreed.

  The dowager countess Fairmont, a tiny round woman with a three-foot-tall headdress of black ostrich plumes and a throbbing bass voice, was the first to take her seat.

  That was the signal for everyone to settle into his place. And while Fairmont and Jonathan attempted to arrange the seats in pairs, Nicky moved them in such a way that Sophie was on one side of him and Ellen on the other. Jonathan promptly scolded him and moved Sophie’s chair alongside the one in which he intended to sit. But Lady Englewood stepped into the fray and somehow managed to shuffle everyone so that Jonathan was sitting with Ellen and Nicky was sitting with Sophie.

  “There,” she said in a satisfied tone, “now everyone will have a delightful time.”

  “No,” Jonathan said, rising and moving the girls again, “Nicky will never forgive me if I lure Ellen away from him, and I have many things I must ask Sophie about Vaile Priory. It has been so long since I visited there.”

  Lady Englewood would have protested, but her husband, who had been huddled with Lady Biskup—their heads close together as they talked in low, urgent voices—reached out a hand and drew her down onto a chair beside him.

  “Please, my love,” he said. “The curtain is about to rise.”

  With a resigned sigh Lady Englewood accepted defeat, although she turned one final time toward Jonathan and gave him a scalding look.