The Temporary Betrothal (5 page)

She exhaled sharply, blowing out a puff of air as they left the
church, turning her head up to the sky.

“Are you tired? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you alone for
so long,” he apologized.

“Not at all. I think I got on very well with many of the women.
And the children were darlings,” she replied, grasping the crook of his elbow
more firmly as he led her down the steps. “I think the women need money,” she
added in an undertone. “Many have no means of income, and several have children
to care for. Without a steady flow of money, some of them have been reduced—or
nearly so—to rather desperate circumstances.”

Just as he suspected. He stopped, turning to face her. “You
will help me, then? These women, they respond to you. Together, we can help keep
them from turning to occupations that are beneath them.”

She gazed deeply into his eyes. “Of course I will help you,
Lieutenant. Did I not already promise to?”

“Yes, you did. I just wondered if, once you saw how things
were—”

“That I would gather up my skirts and flee in horror?” She gave
a modest chuckle. “Surely I am better than that.”

He couldn’t bear the challenge in those blue eyes any longer.
He directed their steps back toward the street. “I do need your help with one
other matter. There’s a young ensign, named Rowland, who is mute. I think
conversation—even just listening to someone read aloud from a book—could help
him. Do you think you can help me find someone willing to take that on?”

Sophie smiled, her dimples deepening. “I know just the perfect
person, Lieutenant.”

Chapter Five

T
hank goodness she had gotten an advance on
her salary. Sophie sat, cradling her teacup in her hands, observing the hustle
and bustle as shoppers filed in and out of Molland’s. She needed a fortifying
meal and a few moments’ peace after her chaotic morning. Even though she feigned
courage for the lieutenant, her emotions were deeply shaken. She picked up her
watercress sandwich with shaking hands and savored one delicious bite.

Her entire family had been cast into poverty when Papa died.
But Sophie never realized how very dreadful poverty could be. Of course, it
meant making over Mama’s old court dresses rather than enjoying new frocks. And
it meant eating potatoes every day rather than having chicken for dinner. And
yet, even though they left their ancestral home in disgrace and eked out a
meager existence in a cottage, the idea of desperation had never crossed her
mind. Why, she had even rejected Captain John Brookes because she no longer
loved him after the war.

Love! What nonsense.

Sophie dropped her sandwich and crossed her arms tightly over
her chest. What a selfish ninny she had been. The only thing that separated her
from the widows she met this morning—women who were facing such straitened
circumstances that prostitution suddenly seemed a viable option—was the fact
that her industrious sister had kept her from feeling desperate. True, they had
discussed taking on jobs in the village. But really, it was Harriet’s own
demeanor—her insistence on writing a book, her persistence in having it
published—that had kept the wolf from the Handley cottage door. And because of
her sister’s cheerful toiling, she never felt as desperate or as poor as the
women she met today.

She tried another bite of her sandwich, but really, it tasted
like ashes in her mouth.

The only thing to do is resolve never to be a burden on one’s
family again. After all, she had gainful employment for the foreseeable future.
She would simply have to work hard, save up money and open a dress shop of her
own one day. She would never have to worry about Harriet or poverty again.

“Penny for your thoughts?” a cheerful voice interrupted.
“Sophie? Are you all right?”

Sophie gave a shake of her head, ridding herself of her
reverie. “Lucy.” She patted the table and beckoned her friend to sit down.
“Thank goodness you are here.”

“Did you have a bad morning? How did your visit to the veterans
go?” Lucy sat across from her and placed her reticule on the table. “Tea and
sandwiches, if you please,” she told the waitress with a smile.

“Oh, the meeting went well.” Sophie took a sip of her tea. “But
really, Lucy. I had no idea how very badly off some of the women are.” She
leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Some of them even
consider...selling themselves.”

Lucy nodded. “Yes, I know. I can’t say I blame them. After all,
a woman must do what she can to survive.”

Her response was like a slap in the face. Sophie sat back in
her chair, her eyes wide. “Surely you don’t condone it.”

“No, I wouldn’t say I condone it.” Lucy accepted her tea from
the waitress and nodded her thanks. “I would just say that I can understand it.
You see, Sophie, I am an orphan. I grew up in an orphanage. Fortunately for me,
I have brains and was able to develop them even in that environment. I was able
to become a governess. Some of my friends were not so fortunate.”

Really, this was astonishing. It was like turning over a
pretty, smooth rock in a field and seeing the worms squirming underneath. “But
really, Lucy. My family lost everything and I never felt that kind of
desperation. Maybe my sister hid it from me. I even turned down two marriage
proposals.”

Lucy spluttered and choked on her tea. “Beg pardon?” she
coughed, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief. The waitress returned with a
small china plate of sandwiches.

Sophie waited until the waitress left before picking up the
thread of conversation.

“Yes, it’s true. I turned down Captain John Brookes and another
redcoat—James Marable.” It was embarrassing to admit it now. Especially as Lucy
sat staring at her, looking at her as though she had just sprouted horns on the
top of her head.

“Why?” Lucy took a careful sip of her tea, continuing to eye
Sophie over the rim of her cup.

“Because I did not love them.” Why did it feel like an
admission of guilt? After all, Harriet had promised her long ago that she did
not have to marry anyone she did not love. Even after Mama died and Sophie was
riddled with guilt and sorrow, Harriet promised her she had made the right
choice.

Lucy set down her cup with a clink. “Well, then, I must say
yes. It sounds to me that your sister did protect you. I envy you your freedom,
Sophie. Most young women in dire poverty would marry anyone without delay. No
picking and choosing allowed.”

“And that’s why I am seeking my own fortune.” Sophie lifted her
chin in the air. It wasn’t as if she was lolling about in bed all day, eating
bonbons. She worked very hard for Lord Bradbury and his daughters. And she was
building a future for herself until she could strike out on her own and become a
modiste with a proper shop.

“And so you are.” Lucy reached out and clasped Sophie’s hand
warmly. “But listen, Sophie. Not everyone’s experience is akin to yours. We do
not all have the same background, breeding or talent to make something of
ourselves. And to be perfectly honest, not all of us are as pretty as you.” She
released Sophie’s hand. “You mustn’t judge other women for what they may choose
to do to survive.”

“I don’t,” Sophie protested. “I am just stunned, that’s all. In
our days of poverty, I never had to consider such a thing. And it both addles me
and humbles me to know that others do. I never knew how hard my sister worked as
a writer to save my family until this moment.”

A sympathetic light kindled in Lucy’s eyes, easing some of the
turmoil in Sophie’s heart. Lucy wasn’t dismayed by her refusal to marry. And for
that she was grateful.

Lucy tapped the table with her forefinger for emphasis as she
spoke again. “So now that you have this position, what do you wish to do with
the rest of your life?”

“I wish for peace and freedom.” Why, she could even feel it—the
sensation of being lifted up on wings. Not relying on anyone. Making her own way
in the world. “I should like to have my own dress shop someday. When Amelia and
Louisa no longer need my services.”

“And what of marriage? If another proposal came your way, what
would you say?” Lucy cocked her head to one side.

“I do not know.” An image of brown eyes in a stern face flashed
before her mind’s eye. Charlie Cantrill. If Charlie asked her, what would she
say? And why was she thinking of him, anyway? Theirs was a mere business
relationship. “It would depend upon the gentleman, and my own feelings in the
matter.”

“Ah,
c’est bon.
” Lucy stirred her
teacup meditatively. She fell silent, brooding over the steaming brew.

Sophie regarded her carefully. Lucy seemed so lively, so
independent, and yet she had no family. Other than her charges and the other
servants, she had no one to speak to, to care for. Her existence must be so
lonely. She needed to find others to share her life with. Perhaps reading to
Ensign Rowland would allow her to branch out, and forge connections with
others.

“Lucy, you’re so clever.” Best to start with flattery. Everyone
loved a nice compliment. “There’s someone who needs your help. Lieutenant
Cantrill mentioned an ensign who is mute. Would you come to the veterans’ group
with me and read to him? The lieutenant thinks it would be a great help to the
young man, and I would love to have your company there.”

Lucy looked up, her blue eyes wide with astonishment. “Really?
You think it would be a help?”

Sophie offered her most appealing smile. Her plan was already
starting to work. Maybe Lucy could find her happily ever after, even if Sophie’s
seemed remote. “Dear Lucy, I think it would be a tremendous help. For
everyone.”

* * *

Charlie accepted the teacup from Aunt Katherine’s
extended hand. “Thank you, Auntie.” He couldn’t help but call her Aunt. Everyone
did. In reality, she was John Brookes’s aunt—but in practice, she was aunt to
them all.

“And so, Charlie,” she asked, amusement evident in her tone,
“how did Sophie fare on her first day?”

He settled back in his chair, breathing deeply of the scents of
oolong and leather. Aunt Katherine’s home always made him feel at peace. She
managed to live a life of simple luxury, one that made him comfortable without
causing guilt. After all, so many people had so little.

“She did quite well, Aunt Katherine. I believe that she will be
a tremendous help to my cause. Some of the women took to her immediately—she got
their confidence in mere moments, whereas I had been working for weeks.”

Aunt Katherine nodded, her wrinkled features softening into a
smile. “Good, I am glad to hear it. You know, I was none too fond of Miss Sophie
after she broke her understanding with John. He is my nephew and I feel he is a
rare gem. On the other hand, matters worked out right. John and Harriet are
together, and a better match you’ll never find.”

He nodded. Everything had worked out for the best, for
everyone. “So you are not bitter, Aunt Katherine?”

She laughed, tilting her head back. “Not at all, I assure you.
In fact, I am inclined to like Sophie more and more. She is, perhaps, the more
spoiled of the two lasses, but she is showing a willingness to work on her own
and gain independence that is most pleasing.”

Charlie smiled. It was easy to misjudge Sophie. She was so
pretty and so vibrant that it was not at all difficult to think of her as a
flibbertigibbet, passing over her strength of character. “I think so, too.”

“Do you?” The faded old eyes regarded him sharply, as though
Aunt Katherine were studying him through a lorgnette. The close regard caused a
wriggle of unease to work up his spine.

“Yes.” Would Auntie stop regarding him in that fashion? He felt
like an insect under a spying glass.

“And what of Elizabeth Gaskell? Do you ever hear of your former
fiancée at all?”

The sudden shift in conversation threw Charlie off guard. Like
a good soldier, he eyed the terrain warily. What did this abrupt change signify?
Why was she bringing up Beth, right on the heels of their discussion about
Sophie?

“What I know of Beth I read in
The
Tatler.
” His words were clipped and precise. Beth’s downward spiral
into licentious behavior was a constant source of amusement for Bath—and
embarrassment for her former fiancé. He did not like to talk about it with
anyone. Not even Auntie.

“So, then. If she is mentioned in the gossip rags, then she is
still living a hedonistic existence.” Aunt Katherine clasped her hands, laden
with rings, together over her stomach, peering at him with eyes that had only
sharpened with age. “And where does this leave you, Charlie?”

“Forgive me, Auntie, but I don’t understand your meaning.”
Honestly, the old woman was as mysterious as the Sphinx. John had warned him so,
many times in the past. And yet, since she was meddling in others’ affairs,
Charlie found it amusing. Now, faced with it himself, it didn’t seem as
funny.

“Tut, tut. There’s no need to get testy with an old woman. I
only mean to say it isn’t right for a young man to live alone without thinking
about a wife and family. While your work with the veterans is nothing short of
admirable, what are you doing to better your own life, my son?”

“You sound like my mother. Always lecturing me to give up my
work and settle down with a wife.” And yet, what was so winning about his life?
Dinner alone. Walks to the Pump Room. Reading before his cozy fire. It was
usually pleasant, but took on a lonely tinge now that he thought about it.
“Sometimes I prefer solitude. When Brookes is in town, I have a very active
social life.”

Aunt Katherine clapped her hands, her rings tinkling merrily.
“Ah, but John is now married, and I am sure he and Harriet will have a family
soon. He won’t have as much time for trips to Bath and army reunions. You must
create a life for yourself that is rich and full, young Charlie. While austerity
has its benefits, I worry that you are missing out on the very vibrancy of
life.”

Vibrancy. Warmth. Beauty. An image of blue eyes and hair the
color of sunlight passed through his mind. A lively young lady, someone to share
his life with. He blinked rapidly, clearing the alluring vision away. “I don’t
know, Aunt Katherine. Sometimes I think I was meant to be alone. Perhaps that is
why God spared me. To live a life of quiet austerity helping others. It’s not a
bad existence, you know.”

Aunt Katherine pursed her lips and shook her head. An unusual
quiet descended on the library, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the
grate. At length, Aunt Katherine spoke softly. “Not all women are like Elizabeth
Gaskell. Not even pretty ones.”

“I am afraid all young ladies are more like her than we care to
admit.” The thread of bitterness running through his tone was surprising, even
to his own ears. “Especially...” His face began to burn, a flush he could not
attribute to the heat from the fire. “
Especially
pretty and vivacious women.”

“Charlie.” Aunt Katherine’s voice was quiet, the kind of tone
she might reserve for a child who had fallen and skinned his knee. “Surely you
don’t harbor bitterness and prejudice in your heart.” She straightened up and
offered him a kind smile. She was like a mother in some ways, and it made him
blink back sudden tears. He was a soldier, after all. No good to cry. “‘Another
man dies in bitterness of soul, never having enjoyed anything good,’” she
quoted. “Don’t allow what Beth did to rob you of happiness.”