“Sophia!” she heard. She looked over her shoulder to see her sister waving her hand madly at her.
“Oh, my apologies, Mr. Nightingale, but I must go attend to my sister.”
“Please don’t go too far, Miss Worthington. I would very much like to dance with you again before the night is through.”
She smiled at him as she turned towards Lydia. “I promise to save you a dance!”
She felt out of breath by the time she reached Lydia.
“Heavens, Sophia! What an extraordinary night you seem to be having!” Lydia said excitedly.
Sophia felt her smile grow even wider. “Oh, Lydia, he is just the perfect gentleman! He is quite –”
“Good evening,” said another voice, much deeper and far harsher than that of Mr. Worthington’s.
The girls looked up once more to see yet another face looking down at them. A far older gentleman, with hair the color of coal, smiled down at them. His face looked strong, and important.
“Am I speaking with Miss Sophia Worthington?”
She cringed slightly when he used her given first name. “Yes, sir, you are indeed. Who do we have the pleasure of speaking to?”
“I am Mr. Buxton, and I would like to request the next dance with you.”
*****
“A bit like de ja vu, don’t you think?” Lydia asked, and once again, the girls curtsied to the man.
But this man was not at all like Mr. Nightingale. This man was night while Mr. Nightingale was day; shadow compared to light, still water compared to a torrential river.
You must remember to be courteous, their mother had told them time and time again. No matter the gentleman, you will do him the honor of dancing with him. For it is only a dance, and no harm will come of it if you are not interested.
She was so grateful that her father had managed to secure Mr. Nightingale’s attention before this man had approached her. It was not an uncommon occurrence for men to ask both her and sister to dance; being of age, many families with sons sought to find suitable matches. This would not be the first time she danced with a man that she had no interest in whatsoever.
So she smiled her prettiest smile, her mind filled with thoughts of Mr. Nightingale, and she accepted his offer.
He led her to the dance floor in silence, his face looking ever forward. He was not plain looking; in fact, she would have to admit he was a handsome man. But his stern brow and set jaw did nothing to put Sophia at ease, and he apparently seemed quite disinterested in her.
It was minutes before he said anything, and by that time, they were already dancing.
“You are quite the dancer, Miss Worthington.”
She smiled at him. She had to admit, he was a remarkable dancer; very light on his feet, which would not be apparent with his height, and also very confident in his movements. She did not feel pushed or pulled in a direction she was uncomfortable with.
“As are you, Mr. Buxton.”
“Is this your first visit to Highrose Park?”
“It is indeed, sir.”
“And how do you find it?” he asked.
She looked up around the ballroom, at all the candles and the paintings and the gilded mirrors. “It’s quite breathtaking.”
“This house has been in my family for four generations now, and it will eventually be mine.”
She looked at him. What an interesting statement. Did he mean to test her will? Or discern something of her character by her reaction?
A more chilling thought gripped her. What if he wishes to know what I think because he intends for me to be the one to share it with him!
Her smile weakened slightly, and she looked away from his face.
“It is a beautiful home. I am sure that you will be very happy here.”
He nodded. “As will my wife, when I am married.”
He either had not heard her, or had disregarded her statement. She found herself frustrated by it.
The music seemed to last far longer than when she had danced with Mr. Nightingale. Mr. Buxton continued to speak about his home, giving a detailed history and description of each room in the large estate.
She nodded and made the appropriate remarks of awe where it was necessary. She found herself wishing that the music would end so that she might be done dancing with the man. He was so very…dry.
“And the stable was constructed by my father, who has owned and bred horses since he was a boy.”
The music ended just as Mr. Buxton’s words faded into the applause of the others guests.
Relieved, Sophia smiled at him and took a step backwards, clapping with much enthusiasm. It was her own secret that it was because the dance was over, not only for the quality of the music itself.
Mr. Buxton looked over at her. “Might I also have the pleasure of the next dance? I still have yet to tell you all about my grandmother’s gardens.”
“Oh, Mr. Buxton, there are so many ladies here this evening who would be most enchanted to be able to have a dance with a man as interesting as you! They would never forgive me for stealing your attention for so long.” She curtsied to him. “Thank you so very much for the dance; it was very informative. I daresay I know more of this estate than even my father!”
He made to speak once more, but she had turned around before he had the chance. She walked quickly and ensured that there were many people between them. She found her sister had also found a dance partner, so she smiled and waved at her before she made her way out onto a balcony.
The night air was refreshing after her hasty escape. She took a deep breath and finally relaxed.
“There you are!”
Startled, she turned around only to see Mr. Nightingale step out into the air, the sounds of the music and the guests following him.
She smiled at him. “Am I ever glad to see you! I had expected you to be someone else.”
“Oh?” he asked. “A tall, brooding gentleman who had the pleasure of dancing with you not a moment ago?”
She looked out over the railing of the balcony. “The very same.”
“And why do you hide from him?” Mr. Nightingale asked her.
She sighed once more. “He was so very…” she looked at him, and when he encouraged her to continue, she said, “boring.” She winced a little, but was surprised to see Mr. Nightingale throw his head back and laugh.
“Miss Worthington, that was perfectly horrible of you to say! Mr. Buxton is a well-respected gentleman, and appears to be looking for a wife.”
She rolled her eyes, unable to stop herself. “That’s all well and good, but I would not be a fit wife for him. Especially if all he ever spoke about was this house of his!” She gestured to the building behind him.
He folded his arms across his chest and smiled at her. “You are a most amusing young woman.”
And then his face grew tender, and he took a step closer to her. “And I am very glad that I was able to meet you this evening, finally.”
She smiled at him in reply, and they would have continued in their merry conversation if it had not been for her sister throwing herself out into their midst.
“There you are!”
“Whatever is the matter?” Sophia asked.
Lydia looked cross. “Father already wishes to leave. He says that Mother is feeling ill.”
Sophia sighed. “She is always feeling unwell.” She looked up at Mr. Nightingale. “It has been a wonderful evening. I so dearly wish that I didn’t have to leave.”
Lydia grabbed her sister’s hand and gently began to pull her towards the door.
“Will I see you again?” Sophia asked him.
He held his hand out in her direction, right where she had been standing a moment before. “Only if you wish it!”
“I do!”
“Then I will come to you soon!”
“I’ll be waiting!”
And then her sister succeeded in dragging in from the night, leaving poor Mr. Nightingale alone in the cool of the air.
****
*
Breakfast the following Tuesday was bright and cheerful, with the family sitting together enjoying their tea and eggs. Mr. Worthington read the paper, Mrs. Worthington gazed out the lead-paned window, surely searching for inspiration for her next dress, and Lydia and Sophia sat with their heads together, still engrossed in conversations about the prior weekend’s ball.
“A letter for you, sir.”
The housekeeper, Mrs. Radcliffe, came in the room and presented their father with a silver tray, on which sat a folded piece of parchment, sealed with a red wax seal.
He thanked Mrs. Radcliffe, who then curtsied and excused herself from the room. They eyed the letter curiously as their father read it.
“Sophia, my dear, it appears as if you made quite the impression on a certain gentleman at the ball.” He winked at his daughter down the table.
Sophia and Lydia looked at each other, eyes wide, and smiled excitedly.
“Could it be?” Lydia asked.
Sophia looked at her father hopefully.
“It appears as if we will be having a guest this afternoon.” He looked at Sophia. “He wishes to discuss a private matter, as well as spend some time with you.”
Lydia and Sophia grasped each other hand’s and giggled together like young girls.
Their mother hushed them, but a small smile stayed on her face.
Their father looked pleased as well. “Did I not tell you that he was a fine man?”
“A fine man indeed, father!” Sophia agreed. She couldn’t wait for him to arrive. She could not believe it had already been three days since she had seen Mr. Nightingale, but it had felt too long. He had promised to come to her, and here was his promise being fulfilled!
“Alright girls, then we have much work to do!” their mother said, and she got to her feet. “We must meet with Cook to make sure everything is ready for tea, as well as ensure that you both have only the finest dresses to wear. We mustn’t seem too grand; we want him to think us humble in nature.”
“Yes, Mother!” the girls replied. Sophia was nearly shaking with excitement. Could it be this simple for a marriage to happen? Was it truly possible for her to be so happy? Was Mr. Nightingale truly all of the man that he seemed to be?
She wasn’t sure, but her excitement prevented any sort of doubts from coloring her view of the day.
The rest of the day was spent preparing the home for the arrival of Mr. Nightingale. The girls spent much of their time in their rooms, Lydia helping Sophia choose the perfect dress to see their guest in.
“No, that one is far too bland.”
“No, I don’t like the way that one falls.”
“That’s a possibility, but I am afraid we would have to change the ribbons.”
Sophia, exasperated, sat down on her bed. “Lydia, I don’t know what to do! I don’t seem to have the right dress to wear, nor is my hair behaving in any such manner today!” She pulled on a loose curl that refused to stay behind her ear. “It’s all gone wrong!”
“Now, now,” Lydia said, and sat beside her sister to comfort her. “I might have just the dress. Let me look in my wardrobe.”
She returned with a dress of emerald green, with ivory lace and golden buttons. It was exquisite.
“Why have I never seen this dress before?” Sophia asked her sister. She touched the fabric of the dress most gently; it was soft to the touch, and warm like a kitten.
Her sister smiled. “Because it is one of mother’s old ones. But I have refashioned it. See these buttons? I added them from a dress that I outgrew a few years ago. And the lace was my own special addition.”
“Lydia this is beautiful!” She hesitated. “I couldn’t possibly wear it. This should be for you on a day like today!”
“Nonsense,” her sister said, and she pushed the dress into Sophia’s hands. “This is exactly the use for this dress. Besides, what if I am never to marry?”
“Oh, that’s just ridiculous.”
They smiled at each other.
“Thank you, Lydia. I think this is just perfect.”
She helped Sophia into the dress, as well as helped her by brushing out her hair and tying it back behind her head in a braided bun, in the most sophisticated way she knew how. Together they laughed and wished and wondered.
“Sophia dear, your guest is here to see you,” her mother’s voice rang through the hall up into their room.
The two sisters looked at each other.
“You’ll do just fine, sister,” Lydia said to her. “I’ll stay up here and wait to hear all about it.”
Sophia kissed Lydia on the cheek. “You are far too kind to me. I look forward to it!”
And she turned and made her way from the room.
The foyer of their home held the main staircase that connected the first and second floors. They always met with guests in the foyer and then adjourned to the sitting room with the wide, tall windows that overlooked the pond and village in the valley.
She quickly made her way to the staircase, where she was greeted by her mother.
Mrs. Worthington looked her over, adjusted her sleeves and brushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes. “You look beautiful in this color. Where did you get this?”
“Lydia had it.”
Her mother looked it over once more. “It looks very familiar.” She pondered for a moment but then shook her head. “Well, we best not keep the gentleman waiting!”
Sophia smiled, a burst of emotion in her chest. She was nervous and yet elated.
She couldn’t wait to see him.
She cleared her throat, stood a little taller, and moved to the top step. She placed her hand on the railing and started to descend.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Ah, there you are, my daughter,” she heard her father say.
She smiled and opened her eyes, and looked down into the foyer to have her first glimpse of Mr. Nightingale.
She stopped on a step in the middle of the staircase.
“Oh, Mr. Buxton. What are you doing here?”
“Oh come now, darling, we received his letter this morning. No sense being coy,” and then he laughed in a way he often would if he were embarrassed.
She felt her skin grow cold.
Mr. Buxton turned and looked up at her and he smiled. It was a small smile, an interested smile. But it wasn’t a smile of love or of anticipation.
This was a duty to be done, and she was simply a means to an end.
Realization washed over her. How could she have been so stupid? Her father had never meant Mr. Nightingale at all. If he had intended for her to meet Mr. Buxton, then how had she mistaken Mr. Nightingale as the intended gentleman for her to meet?
Her hand trembled on the stairwell, and she grasped the railing so as to not fall down the rest of the flight.
“Darling, are you alright?”
“Father, there has been a mistake,” she said as calmly as she possibly could.
“Whatever do you mean?” he asked, a hint of anger in his voice. “Mr. Buxton has traveled a long way to meet with you today, and I expect you to give him the courtesy of your attention.”
“But Father, I can’t –”
“Sophia, come down here.” He turned to look at Mr. Buxton. “My deepest apologies, sir. She just must not be feeling well.”
“I’m feeling perfectly fine, father!”
“Sophia, come down here and come have a private word with me. Please.” His voice would have appeared calm to Mr. Buxton, but she could see the frustration behind his eyes.
She obeyed, and quickly made her way down the stairs to where her father was standing.
He glared at her, but showed her into the sitting room. Once she was inside, he turned his back to her, apologized again to Mr. Buxton, and then closed the double doors to ensure their privacy.
“What on earth are you thinking?” her father launched immediately into an argument.
“I had no idea that you meant Mr. Buxton!”
/> “Who else could I have meant, Sophia? I introduced myself to him and his family at the ball. I directed him to you to ask you to dance when he seemed interested. You danced together. What is so hard to understand about this?”
“I danced with another young man at the ball, Father,” she replied, tears starting to form in her eyes. “And he was charming, and funny, and handsome! He was not that man that is standing out in the foyer right now!”
“And how was I to know that this was the man you meant? I made myself perfectly clear –”
“You apparently did not, because I have been under the assumption all morning that one Mr. Nightingale was going to be our guest today.”
“Nightingale? Darling, I have never heard of such a family.”
The tears came freely now, and she buried her face in her hands.
Her father sighed, his anger dissipating, and he went to comfort his daughter.
She pushed his away. “No! This is all a horrible mistake! It must be a dream!”
“You must be awfully infatuated with this man to be reacting in such a foolish manner.”
She glared at him. “I am not foolish! I met a man that I greatly enjoyed spending time with. Why can’t you understand that?” she sobbed into her hand.
Her father cleared her throat. “I am sorry that this is so upsetting to you.”
“No!” she cried. “You don’t understand. Mr. Nightingale is everything I have ever wanted. I thought that he knew you, and that this was all working out for everyone, to make everyone happy. He is kind, intelligent, and he makes me feel beautiful!” She closed her eyes, the tears dropping down onto her dress which she felt silly for wearing now. “But I’m so confused now and I don’t know what to think.”
Mr. Worthington’s shoulders sank, as did his face. “I’m sorry, my dear.”
She shook her head. “No, no.” She wiped her eyes. “No,” she said, a bit more calmly. She opened her eyes and looked at him. “No, I cannot be mad at you. This was entirely my mistake. I should not have assumed that Mr. Nightingale was the one you intended for me to meet.”
He looked toward the door. “There is still the matter of a Mr. Buxton outside, darling.”
Her eyes glistened once more with tears. “Father, I cannot meet with him.”
Sunlight and Shadows Page 60
