“I don’t know how I would have gotten this far had it not been for the two of you helping me every step of the way,” Sophie said as she stood for her cousins to make one final appraisal of her gown.
A tap sounded at the bedroom door. “Sophie? Are you ready? Paul has returned with the preacher.”
“Just one moment, Father.” She hugged her cousins in a fleeting embrace. They had agreed there would be no attendants; this was, after all, a simple ceremony. Members of the family had been advised that those who wished to join them in the parlor were welcome, but Sophie did not wish anyone to come out of a sense of duty or obligation. “You two go down and join the others.” She hesitated for a moment. “If anyone else is there.”
Amanda squeezed her arm. “You know that Mother will be there, as well as George and Jefferson—they love you dearly.” She grinned. “And Beatrice will certainly be in attendance wearing her usual frown, but don’t let that discourage you. She finds fault with everything and everybody.”
“Sophie?” Her father’s voice had taken on a tone of urgency. “Paul will think you’ve changed your mind if we don’t go downstairs soon.”
After one final inspection, Amanda and Fanny gave their approval and opened the door. “She looks beautiful,” Fanny whispered to her uncle.
Sophie stood before her father. He nodded and motioned for her to turn. She performed a small pirouette, and he smiled, his eyes glistening. “I wish your mother were here to see how beautiful you are.”
“I’m glad she’s not here to suffer this embarrassment.”
Her father clasped her shoulders and shook his head. “Like me, she would have been proud to call you her daughter today. You must remember that you are forgiven, Sophie—by me and by your heavenly Father.”
She knew he was correct. God had provided her with a husband and a father for her child. One who would love and respect her. If only she could love him in return. Arm in arm, her father escorted her down the wide stairway and into the foyer. Paul stood beside the preacher gazing at her. His eyes revealed a depth of love that both frightened and amazed her. She would surely disappoint him.
When her step faltered, her father looked down with a question in his eye. “All set?”
“I’m not certain I’d ever be completely prepared for this, so we had best keep moving forward.”
He grinned. “You’re going to do just fine, Sophie. I can feel it in my heart.” They stepped into the parlor entrance. “And Paul is going to make you forget you ever met Wesley Hedrick.”
Sophie forced a smile. She doubted she could ever forget him. No matter what he’d done, her heart still ached for Wesley. And wouldn’t this baby be a constant reminder of him? How could she possibly not remember? How could she marry Paul and pretend to be his wife?
While the thoughts swirled, Amanda struck a piano chord to cue them forward. The soft music continued until her father had relinquished her to Paul’s care and the preacher stood before them. Thankfully, Paul hadn’t solicited the assistance of Preacher Halsted, who conducted the Sunday worship services at Half Moon Bay. Today, Sophie preferred a stranger, someone who didn’t know or wouldn’t judge her while conducting the ceremony—someone who wouldn’t be prone to mention the marriage to residents of the other islands.
Not that word wouldn’t spread quickly enough, but she didn’t want an announcement made during the vesper service on Sunday. Of course, if Mrs. Oosterman got wind of the marriage, she’d be certain to make an announcement on Sunday evening. The woman seemed to enjoy using vesper services to spread gossip. If Sophie had her way, she and Paul wouldn’t be attending the service this Sunday.
The preacher opened his Bible. While he was speaking of the sanctity of marriage, Sophie waited for someone to jump up and claim the ceremony a fraud. But all remained silent. While Paul repeated his vows, Sophie silently prayed that God would help her love this man and forget the one who had betrayed her.
Her voice trembled, but she repeated the vows, and when Paul leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on her lips, she didn’t pull away. She wouldn’t embarrass or humiliate him in front of her family.
Unbeknownst to Sophie, Aunt Victoria had arranged a small reception following the ceremony. Family only, of course, but Mrs. Atwell had prepared tea sandwiches and baked a cake in honor of the occasion. Though Sophie would have preferred to forego a reception, her aunt’s thoughtfulness was touching. And Sophie was surprisingly pleased to note that except for her brother, Dorian, who was somewhere in Canada, and her sister Louisa and family, who had sailed for Europe with the Clermont family, the entire family was in attendance.
When Paul hastened to fetch her a cup of punch, her father drew near, his attention focused upon Paul. “I believe you will come to love Paul one day, Sophie.”
Sorrow squeezed at her heart. “I don’t think I will ever love another man. I’m not even sure I believe human beings capable of love.”
“You are young, Sophie. Believe me when I tell you that hearts can heal. Given time, I’m certain yours will mend.” He kissed her cheek. “Continue to ask God to bless your marriage, and I will do the same.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“And, Sophie,” he said with a look of adoration, “I love you. That love is very real—even when it seems less than such.”
The fireflies danced across the lawn while Sophie sat on the veranda with Fanny and Amanda. Following the day’s festivities, Sophie had sought the companionship of her cousins, and Paul hadn’t pressed for her company. Instead, he’d remained at a distance. Near enough to hear should she want his company, yet far enough away to provide her privacy. She had noticed that he’d been visiting with her father for the past hour. They always seemed to have much to discuss, though she wondered how it could be possible, since they were around each other nearly every day at the Home.
Thoughts of the Home for the Friendless gave her momentary pause. She and Paul hadn’t discussed where they would live once they returned to Rochester. He rented a room at a local boardinghouse, where he took his evening meal when he wasn’t preoccupied at the Home. She wondered if her father had told him he could move into the small dwelling the two of them currently occupied. She would ask him when they were alone.
Alone. The thought caused her heart to trip in double time. She grasped Amanda’s hand. “Did your mother say anything about . . . later?”
“You mean about your bedroom?” Amanda whispered.
Sophie nodded.
“During the reception, she instructed Minnie and Veda to move your belongings to the bedroom in the west wing of the third floor.”
Moments later her aunt joined them on the veranda. “You should go upstairs to your room, Sophie. It’s getting late, and I’m sure Paul is wondering why you’re continuing to sit here with your cousins.” She bent low, her lips brushing Sophie’s ear. “You are now a married woman and must begin to think of your husband and his needs,” she whispered.
“Well, yes, I suppose I should go upstairs.” Though she spoke the words, she couldn’t seem to release her hold on the chair arms. “Thank you for seeing to the reception preparations, Aunt Victoria.”
“Of course, my dear. And I’ve had your belongings moved to the bedroom on the third-floor west wing, where you will have the utmost privacy. Don’t feel obligated to hurry down in the morning. You should consider the next week as your honeymoon.” Her aunt patted her hand. “Go along now and prepare for your groom.”
Legs trembling, Sophie pushed herself to her feet. She swallowed hard in an attempt to force down the lump that had risen in her throat and threatened to cut off her air. She cast a beseeching glance at her cousins. The sympathy in their eyes was evident, yet they could offer no assistance. From this point forward, she would be on her own.
Careful to avoid looking at Paul, she quietly retreated into the house. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice she’d gone. Plodding up the steps, she wondered if the maids had also moved Paul’s suitcase into the room. A
s Sophie continued the upward climb, she tried to remember the bedroom’s design. She hadn’t been in the upper west wing for several years. And she’d never slept in any of the third-floor bedrooms. With good fortune it would have a separate sitting room and a private dressing room, too.
She turned the knob and peered inside. Her heart flip-flopped at the sight of only one bed, no sitting room, and only a dressing screen in one corner. Whatever was her aunt thinking? That you’re a married woman. Sophie ignored that thought. Hadn’t her aunt considered that a young woman needed a modicum of privacy? She would go and speak to Aunt Victoria and request her belongings be removed to another, more suitable room.
She turned on her heel and immediately thumped into Paul’s chest. He looked even more surprised than she felt. “What are you doing here?”
His brows knit in deep confusion. “I believe this is our bedroom, is it not?”
“Yes. Well, no. Well, it’s the one Aunt Victoria gave us,” she stammered. “But it will never do. I’m going to ask her what other rooms aren’t occupied.”
He pushed the door open and peeked over her shoulder. “I see. Could we go inside and discuss this for a moment before you go downstairs and disturb your aunt and uncle?”
Sophie wrapped her arms around her waist and leaned forward. “Has she already gone to her rooms?”
Paul nodded. “She and your uncle came inside immediately after you.”
So he’d seen her enter the house. You would think he would have given her more time to get everything arranged. She nearly said as much but decided it would do little to change the situation. He gently steered her inside the room.
She tapped her foot and waited. “Well? What is there to discuss? You can see the problem as clearly as I. There is only one bed. Not even a separate sitting room or a fainting couch for you to sleep on.” He sat down as though he planned to take possession of the bed, and she eyed him. “I’m going back down to the second floor with Fanny and Amanda.”
He shook his head. “You need not worry. I gave you my word before we married that I would never force myself upon you. Do you judge me a man of my word?”
How did she know? He professed to be a man of God, so he should be a man of his word. On the other hand, she’d thought Wesley to be a man of his word. “I suppose I should trust you until you prove otherwise,” she said.
He pointed toward the dressing screen. “Why don’t you prepare for bed, and I’ll do the same. I’m quite tired, and I’m certain you must be, also.”
Slowly, as if being led to the hangman’s noose, Sophie went to retrieve her things. She removed a flannel nightgown from the dresser. She’d likely be far too warm, especially in this upstairs bedroom, but she wasn’t going to wear one of her delicate nainsook gowns.
It suddenly dawned on Sophie that she would be unable to change her clothes without help. Her gown buttoned up the back, and her corset would have to be loosened. There was no possibility of unfastening it herself. She grimaced and stared at the dresser a moment longer.
“Is something wrong?” Paul asked softly.
Sophie knew she had no choice. To call for Veda would be embarrassing. “I . . . ah . . . my gown.” She knew the words made no sense, but she couldn’t begin to form a reasonable thought. To her surprise, however, Paul immediately understood.
“With your permission and direction, I will happily help you.” He crossed the room and stood behind her. “Tell me what to do.”
“The buttons,” she whispered.
With painstaking slowness, Paul undid each button while Sophie held her breath. He seemed to understand how uncomfortable the situation was for her and didn’t tease or even speak. Had he babbled on about the Home for the Friendless, Sophie actually might have welcomed it.
“There. I believe all of the buttons are unfastened.”
Sophie nodded. “Now if you will . . . can you . . .” The words faded. She drew up her courage and straightened her shoulders. “Would you loosen the ties?”
“The ties?” He sounded confused for a moment. “Oh, I see. Yes.” He was quicker about this task. It was almost as if he couldn’t do the deed fast enough.
Sophie felt the ease of tightness as the corset loosened. She also felt Paul’s warm hand glance across her back as he widened the laces.
“Thank you. That will suffice,” she murmured and hurried behind the dressing screen. She let the gown drop to the floor then maneuvered out of her corset and shift. Sophie had never changed faster in her life and quickly did up all the buttons on the nightgown.
Although the flannel gown hid her form, Sophie slipped her arms into a dressing gown to further cover herself. She wouldn’t want Paul to get the wrong idea.
She inhaled a deep breath. “Are you decent?”
“I am.”
She stepped from behind the screen and stopped in her tracks. “Whatever are you doing on the bed?”
He patted the quilts he’d formed into tight rolls and positioned down the center of the bed. “I can assure you that I’ll stay on my side of the bed.”
“I’m not certain this is . . .”
Paul crooked his finger and pointed to the empty spot. “I truly do not want to sleep on the floor for the remainder of our married life, Sophie. I promise you that I’ll remain on my side of the bed so long as you stay on yours.” He offered a crooked grin. “But should the time ever arise that you’d like to remove the blanket, I’ll be right here waiting for you with open arms.”
Sophie flushed and made her way around the bed. “I suppose I have no choice,” she whispered. She truly couldn’t expect Paul to sleep on the floor, though she wished he would have offered. After positioning her body as close to the edge as possible, Sophie closed her eyes and silently prayed for God’s grace to guide her through this loveless marriage. When she completed her prayers, she tucked the sheet beneath her chin and glanced over her shoulder. I hope he doesn’t snore.
22
Wednesday, June 15, 1898
Her eyelids were scarcely open, but Sophie already knew she’d remained abed much later than usual. Shafts of sunlight splayed across the bed in giant fingers as if to emphasize the lateness of the morning. Not yet fully awake, she shifted, glanced to her right, bolted upright, and screamed.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? You broke your promise.” She eyed him suspiciously. “You’ve been awake for some time now, haven’t you?”
He nodded. “You were resting comfortably in my arms, and I didn’t want to disturb you. But I didn’t break my promise. You’re the one who came to me. Please take note that I am still on my side of the bed while you . . . well, you were clearly on my side.”
Sophie yanked her dressing gown from the foot of the bed and tossed it around her shoulders, tying it tight around her neck, mortified that her body had betrayed her during the night. “We must figure out some other arrangement. This is not at all acceptable.”
Paul grinned. “I thought it most comfortable—and acceptable.”
For the briefest of moments, she, too, had enjoyed the safety of Paul’s arms, but she immediately forced the thought from her mind. “I’ll ask one of the servants to move a couch or cot into the room. That should resolve the problem.”
Paul glanced about the room. “I’m not sure where they would fit a large piece of furniture, unless we were to remove the wardrobe. But then your clothing would be out in the hallway or in another room.” He frowned. “I don’t think that would work. Would you like to remove the changing screen? We could possibly squeeze a small fainting couch over there for you.”
“For me?”
He smiled. “I couldn’t possibly sleep on a fainting couch, Sophie. My legs are far too long. Besides, I have no objection to sleeping in the same bed with you.”
She glanced heavenward and continued to pace the short distance between the bed and the wall. Why had Aunt Victoria given them this tiny room? She couldn’t have the dressing screen removed. “There mu
st be some solution. Perhaps if we moved the dressing table?”
“That might possibly work if you don’t mind being without a dressing table—and if you don’t mind the servants gossiping when they move a couch in here.”
“I don’t care what the servants think. I don’t want to risk the possibility of ending up in your arms every morning.”
His eyes seemed to darken as he stared at her with such intensity that Sophie actually felt mesmerized. “You’re simply afraid that you may learn to love me.”
“That’s stuff and nonsense,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to look away. She’d never really noticed how muscular Paul was. His chest was quite well formed, and she could remember her hands lightly touching the light matting of hair that rested in the center. Goodness, but what man in his right mind slept without a nightshirt to keep him warm? Paul wore little more than some kind of drawstring drawers. That revelation caused Sophie to quickly turn away.
Though she was loath to admit it, Paul was correct. She would not risk her heart again. She wouldn’t allow herself to be a fool to another man’s pretty words and wooing ways.
“Love has nothing to do with it, Mr. Medford.” Gathering her clothes, Sophie tipped her nose in the air and marched to the bedroom door.
“Then you are simply afraid, Mrs. Medford.”
The title stopped her in her tracks. She was now Sophie Medford. The thought filled her with awe and perhaps a hint of terror. She looked back at Paul, whose expression seemed to dare her to tell him his statement was false. Her relationship with Wesley had been fraught with lies. If she couldn’t give Paul her love, at least she could give him the truth.
“You are right, Mr. Medford. I am afraid.” With that she left him. She would dress in the privacy of her cousins’ room.
An Unexpected Love Page 25
