“You’re acting like a silly schoolgirl, Sophie. If you plan to wed a mature man, I fear you must grow up and realize that such things happen from time to time. First and foremost, a strong marriage must be built on trust,” Amanda said.
“And when did you become an authority on marriage? At last report, you said you weren’t interested in marrying,” Sophie countered, moving to the bed and sitting down.
“I’m not. I’m simply relating what I’ve observed between my mother and father throughout the years—and what Mother has told me.” Amanda retrieved her hairbrush from atop her chest of drawers and took Sophie’s place at the dressing table.
Fanny sat down beside Sophie and removed the pins from her hair. “Amanda’s correct. He was obviously in a rush when he departed New York City, and you’ll be doubly pleased when you finally receive your ring.”
Sophie didn’t argue. Her cousins had decided she should forgive Wesley. She slipped into her nightgown without mentioning the true reason they had argued. There would be time enough to tell them of her situation once she and Wesley were married.
Sophie’s night had been fraught with bad dreams, and she awakened earlier than usual. Once she’d completed her morning toilette, she hurried down the hall. She hoped for a moment alone with Wesley before they joined the rest of the family for breakfast. His bedroom door was open, and light streamed into the hall from the bedroom window. Gathering her courage, she inhaled a deep breath. She didn’t want to argue.
The maid looked up when she stepped inside the doorway. “Oh! I had hoped Mr. Hedrick would escort me downstairs to breakfast, but I see he’s already gone down.” Sophie pointed toward the bed. “Why are you stripping the sheets from the bed? Mr. Hedrick arrived only the day before yesterday.”
“He came downstairs this morning with his suitcases and said that he was going back to New York City. He told me to go ahead and clean his room.” Sophie’s eyes darted around the room in search of something to disprove the maid’s claim. The servant gestured toward the empty chifforobe. “Take a look for yourself. There’s nothing here but empty drawers.”
Sophie could feel the bile rise in her throat. Surely this was some cruel joke. She raced from the room and down the steps. Keeping to the path, she made her way toward the boathouse taking long, loping strides. She could hear the faint hissing of the boat’s engine, and she flung open the door of the boathouse. Maybe Wesley hadn’t left yet. The hiss fizzled and died, and Mr. Atwell waved to her after he jumped out of the boat. From across the expanse of the boathouse, she bent forward to gain a view inside the DaisyBee. Empty.
“Did you take Mr. Hedrick to Clayton?” She hadn’t intended to shout, but she couldn’t restrain her rising panic. An invisible band tightened around her chest. While waiting for Mr. Atwell’s reply, her heart constricted and pumped a shooting pain through her chest. She thought she might buckle from the pain. Her pain and panic must not be obvious, for Mr. Atwell continued to smile at her.
He touched the bill of his flat navy blue cap in a mock salute. “That I did, Miss Broadmoor. Mr. Hedrick said he wanted to be on the first train leaving the station this morning. Sure is beautiful out there on the water today. A hint of a breeze every now and again, but the St. Lawrence is as smooth as silk.” He breathed deeply as though he could inhale some of the calmness into his lungs. Maybe that’s what she needed to do.
Sophie forced several gulps of air that seemed to lodge somewhere between her nose and her lungs. The band around her chest constricted more tightly. She leaned against the wall and forced out the air in short panting breaths. Mr. Atwell stared at her as though she’d lost her senses.
“You feeling all right, Miss Broadmoor? I can run and fetch someone if need be.”
“Yes. I mean, no.” Sophie shook away the cobwebs clouding her thoughts. “Yes, I’m all right, and no, you need not call for help.” The poor man had gone pale. She’d likely frightened him out of his wits. “I am merely surprised by your news, Mr. Atwell. I had hoped to speak to Mr. Hedrick this morning.”
He reached inside the pocket of the lightweight jacket he’d slung across his arm and withdrew an envelope. “This is for you.” He crossed the expanse that separated them. “From Mr. Hedrick. He asked that I give it to you.”
Hand trembling, she reached for the missive.
Mr. Atwell’s eyebrows knit with obvious concern. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Much better now, thank you.” She pressed the envelope to her heart. The tight band that constricted her chest slowly released and gently eased the pain.
Mr. Atwell wanted to escort her to the house. Convincing him she was well had required no small amount of effort on her part. He hadn’t been sure he should let her out of his sight. Midway up the path, she glanced over her shoulder. Mr. Atwell had taken up watch from the door of the boathouse. Hoping to alleviate his worries, she waved and smiled. He waved in return but remained at his post. When she finally escaped the boatswain’s view, she left the path, anxious to be alone while she read Wesley’s letter.
Settling beneath one of the ancient conifers, she withdrew the single page of stationery. Her heart tripping, she unfolded the page, surprised to see only a few scribbled lines. The letter contained no flowery salutation. In fact, she doubted it could be considered a letter, for it contained only three curt sentences. You lied to me, Sophie. This is not my problem, but yours. I cannot marry you. W. Hedrick.
Not his problem? Once again the band tightened around her chest. She pushed herself to her feet and rubbed her eyes. Surely she must have misread the letter. Forcing her attention back to the page, she once again read his words. How could he? He had said he loved her. She’d given herself to him, a thing she had never before even considered with any man. Though she had done her share of imbibing and even kissed her share of men, she had never before given herself over to a man. Her stomach roiled at the thought of what she’d done. The man she had believed in, the man she had thought loved her completely, now said she had lied to him.
In that moment, staring at the horizon, where the blackness of the water met a cloudless sky, Sophie decided she wanted to die. The weakness of her physical body evaporated, and she raced across the island as though her feet had taken wing. The breeze caught her linen skirt and whipped the fabric about her legs. She raced along the path leading to the distant stone outcropping that hovered high above the water. Pine branches licked at her face and tugged at the lace edging of her shirtwaist. A bramble bush snagged the letter from between her fingers. Uncaring, she let it flutter on the breeze. She didn’t need the missive. Wesley’s words were seared on her heart.
Paul bent down and picked up a sturdy narrow branch from along the path, deciding it could be fashioned into a beautiful walking stick. Wesley hadn’t been at breakfast when he’d come downstairs that morning, but the family members present had been sparse. Last summer he had learned that weekday breakfasts on the island were not a scheduled meal. At times, the table would be quite crowded, and at others, deserted. A game of croquet had begun on the lawn by the time he’d finished eating, but he didn’t spot Wesley or Sophie among those playing. When Paul inquired, no one had seen either of them. He had hoped to speak to Wesley, receive his pledge for the Home, and return to Rochester on the afternoon train.
He settled on the veranda, but when neither Sophie nor Wesley had appeared outdoors by nine-thirty, Paul decided the two of them must have been up quite late. In spite of his attempts to squelch the feeling, jealousy invaded his spirit, and he jumped up from his chair. “I believe I’ll go for a walk,” he told one of Sophie’s young nephews who’d been marching back and forth in front of the house. The boy had announced earlier that he was protecting the house from a pirate attack.
“If you see any pirates, be sure to hurry back and tell me,” the boy said.
Paul agreed and took off up the path that led to the other end of the island. Broadmoor Island was a beautiful place, and if he must remain another day,
he’d at least have the pleasure of enjoying the views before leaving.
By far, the best outlook was at the far end of the island on a high, rocky ledge that provided a spectacular scene. After climbing the hillock, he turned down the path that led to the outcropping. A glimpse of movement caught his eye, and he turned, expecting to see some form of wildlife. Sophie! He opened his mouth to call to her, but something fluttered from her hand and dropped to the ground as she raced away. A handkerchief perhaps? He took off at a mad dash lest the wind carry it away. Bending down to scoop up what appeared to be no more than a piece of paper, he stopped only long enough to read the brief contents. He didn’t completely understand the note, but it seemed Wesley Hedrick no longer planned to marry Sophie. Paul couldn’t help but wonder what lie she had told him. What could evoke such impassioned behavior? Little wonder she was racing like the wind.
He shoved the paper into his pocket and hurtled onward until, legs aching and breath coming in deep gasps, he stopped short at the sight of her. Arms outstretched as if to embrace the water below, she stood on the edge of the outcropping with her back to him. If he shouted her name, he would startle her. He recalled surprising her on the dock last summer, and how she’d tumbled into the river. Although her dress and her dignity had suffered, she’d not experienced any injury. But if she fell from the cliff, she’d surely die on the rocks below.
Approaching as quietly as possible, he softly called her name. Not a muscle moved. He took another step closer and softly spoke her name again. Still holding her pose, she glanced over her shoulder. Even from a distance, he could see her eyes were red and puffy. No doubt she’d done her share of crying since reading Wesley’s letter.
He removed the letter from his pocket and held it in the air. “I know that Wesley has gone. I’m terribly sorry, Sophie.”
“If you’ve come to gloat, you’ll not have long to do so. There is nothing in this life I desire. Death is the only answer for me.”
Keeping his voice soft and low, Paul stepped closer. “There is always hope, Sophie. Your life is precious to God and to all of us who love you. I know you’re hurting, but please believe me when I tell you that in time your heart will mend.” He took another step toward her, his eyes locked on hers. “I would guess that by this time next year, you’ll have completely forgotten Wesley ever existed.”
She shook her head with such violence that Paul worried she would lose her footing. “God can’t help me. My life is ruined beyond repair.”
“You know that isn’t true, Sophie. There is nothing God won’t forgive, and nothing in our lives is beyond repair. God’s in the business of fixing our messes.” He offered up a silent prayer for God’s help.
“This is too big, even for God.”
He chuckled softly, hoping to assuage her fears. “You know better, Sophie. Maybe you should tell me how anything could be too big for God.”
“I’m going to have Wesley’s child.” She turned back toward the water.
19
Paul fought to balance rage with compassion. How dare Wesley toy with Sophie’s affections, seduce her and steal her innocence, and then walk away? Yes, Sophie had certainly played her part, but Hedrick was older and knew better. If he were there right now, Paul wasn’t entirely sure but what he wouldn’t push Wesley off the cliff.
Fearful of the consequences if he should draw closer, Paul remained motionless while he carefully considered his response. She truly didn’t realize how he felt about her. But if he declared his love, she would think it simply a ploy to get her off the cliff. Watching her stand on the precipice, poised as if ready to fly, he thought his heart would break. He couldn’t permit her to give up; somehow, he must save her. “Wesley was a fool, Sophie, but that is no reason you should end your life.”
“Easy enough for you to say. I’ve sinned against God and shamed my family. Everything I had hoped for is in ruins. Everything I believed in is false. Love is nothing more than a fancy. There is no reason for me to live.”
Each time she spoke of death, he wanted to rush forward and yank her away from the edge. But he knew he must remain calm, or he would never get her to move away from the cliff. “Sophie, you must think of the child you carry. While it’s true you made a bad decision, ending your life and the life of your child won’t make things right.” He wished for just a moment that Hedrick were there with them. The man should see the damage he’d caused—the life-threatening pain. Sophie was suffering, and Hedrick had just walked away, no doubt to deceive yet another poor girl. Paul squared his shoulders. He had to reach her—to help her see the truth. “Sophie, please.”
Sophie dropped her arms to her sides, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps his words were making a difference. “Don’t you see, Paul? There is no way to make things right. That’s why I’m on this cliff.”
His heart pounded with a ferocity that made his head hurt and his ears ring. Please, God. “I have an idea for you, if you’ll just hear me out. Come away from the edge and sit with me and listen to what I have to say. I think you’ll agree it’s a good plan.” He edged a few steps closer.
She shook her head. “I can stay here while you tell me. There’s no need for me to move.”
“I can’t concentrate with you standing out there, Sophie. It makes me too nervous. One misstep and you could fall. Please, Sophie. I truly have a plan that will work.” He took several more steps toward her. “All I’m asking is that you give me a few minutes to tell you my idea. Surely you won’t deny me this one request, will you?” He reached to grab her hand.
“I’ll listen, but that doesn’t mean I’ll agree to anything,” she whispered.
He nodded, now clutching her tightly. “Come over under the trees, where we can sit in the shade.” And away from the sharp rocks and water that lie beneath the overhang.
She collapsed onto the ground beside him, her body wracked by unrestrained sobs. Torso folded over bended knees, she buried her face in the layered fabric of her petticoats and skirt. He longed to pull her close and wipe away her tears. Propriety demanded he keep his distance, yet Sophie’s pain required compassion and a human touch—his touch. At least that’s what Paul wanted to believe. Pushing all decorum aside, he wrapped her in his arms and held her close, wiping away her tears, realizing his own eyes had grown moist. If only he could somehow erase her pain.
When her sobbing finally subsided, he tipped her chin and wiped away a final tear with the pad of his thumb. She attempted a smile but hiccuped instead. With a swipe of her hand, she brushed several loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I must look a mess.”
“You look absolutely beautiful. Do you know how much I love you, Sophie?” He hoped the whispered softness of his words would make them acceptable to her ears.
Palm against his chest, she pushed away from him, her eyes shining with disbelief or fear. Or was it anger? Instinctively, he grasped her hand in a firm hold so she couldn’t take flight. He had meant to instill hope, not distress, but from all appearances he’d not achieved the desired effect.
“What are you saying? I don’t want your pity.”
Although she tried to withdraw her hand, he held fast. “This isn’t pity, Sophie. I think I’ve loved you from the first moment I set eyes on you. If not then, I know I was certain that evening last summer when you fell into the water. When we were aboard the ship to England, I wanted to make my feelings known, but I had little time alone with you. It seemed there was always someone else vying for your attention.”
“I was intent upon having fun on the voyage,” she admitted. “But when I met Wesley, I wanted only to be with him.”
He nodded. “I know exactly how you must have felt.” He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. “Sophie, I want to marry you and give your child a name. Please believe me when I tell you that I love you and want to be your baby’s father.” He traced his finger along her cheek. “We can be happy. I know we can.”
A tear trickled down her cheek. “I can’t, Pau
l. I don’t love you.”
“I understand, but I still want to take care of you and the baby.”
“I’ve treated you badly since the first day we met. I don’t understand why you would want to sacrifice your future for a woman who doesn’t love you—doesn’t even believe in love anymore.”
She was studying him, watching for his reaction, so he would need to choose his words carefully. He must be honest and speak his heart, or he would turn her against him forever. “I love you. Beyond that, I can’t tell you with any assurance that I understand any better than you do. But I know it’s the right thing to do. I know I will be a good husband to you and a loving father to your child. I hope you will eventually love me, but I’m willing to take that chance, knowing it may never happen.” There. That was as much of an answer as he had at the moment, and every word was true. He could only hope she’d heard his sincerity and seen the love with which he’d spoken. He wanted to beg her not to give up on love or on life, but he knew she’d never hear a single word. The pain and betrayal that had become her life were more than she could bear right now. Sophie Broadmoor couldn’t accept that good things could still come her way. Only time would prove that true.
The sun peeked through the branches of a towering pine and teased the hem of her skirt. “I don’t know if I could ever be a good wife to you, Paul.” She stared into the distance.
He turned her chin until their eyes met. “I’ve told you that I am willing to take that chance. I understand you’ve been deeply wounded. Unfortunately, there isn’t time for your heart to mend before you choose a new path. We must think of the baby.”
A soft breeze tugged at the loose strands of hair she’d tucked behind her ear, and she whisked them away from her face. “If you truly believe this is what you want to do, I’ll agree to your plan, but I fear you’ll later regret your decision.”
An Unexpected Love Page 22
