An Unexpected Love (34 page)

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 must 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.

Amanda motioned for the maid to leave the room. “Really, Mother, you do need to calm yourself. The servants are working at a fever pitch in order to meet your demands, but if you continue to bark orders, they’ll never accomplish a thing.”

“Bark? I do not
bark
, Amanda.” Victoria clutched a hand to the collar of her checked silk waist. “What a horrid thing to say about your mother.”

“You’re correct. My word choice was inappropriate. Please forgive me.” She grasped her mother’s hand. “But the fact remains that the servants are able to accomplish only one task at a time.”

Her mother sighed. “That may be correct, but we must be prepared when our guests arrive this afternoon. In order to do so, I am going to need the full cooperation of both the family and the servants.” She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “How I could forget we were to host this gathering still escapes me.”

A ritual had begun many years ago during which residents of the islands would gather for a time of picnicking and games at the island retreats of one another. At first it had been a monthly event, but soon the social occasions had expanded to an every-other-week affair. Depending upon when they scheduled their arrival at the island, her mother volunteered to host the event at least once and sometimes twice during the summer.

“I suppose since we arrived earlier this year and you had agreed to the date last summer . . .” Amanda’s voice trailed off, hoping the excuse would settle her mother.

“And all this upset with an unexpected wedding didn’t help, either, I don’t suppose. Had I not been worrying over the details of Sophie’s reception, I would have likely remembered.”

“I don’t think you should place the blame on Sophie, Mother. She didn’t request a reception. That was
your
idea.”

Victoria waved at the silver serving pieces in the cherry cabinet. “We’re wasting time. Tell Mrs. Atwell the silver is in need of polishing.”

“This is a picnic. We don’t need to use the silver, do we? And Mrs. Atwell is busy preparing the food. She doesn’t have time to polish silver, and the other maids have been assigned enough duties to keep them busy until the guests arrive.”

“What am I to do? We will never be ready in time.” Her mother dropped to the dining room chair. “Perhaps I should have Mr. Atwell deliver my regrets to those who are expected to attend.” She arched her brows and looked at Amanda. “What do you think?”

“By the time you penned all those notes, I doubt Mr. Atwell would have time to deliver them to each of the islands.” Amanda sat down beside her mother. “Everything will be fine, Mother. No one will notice if you serve one less dish than you offered last year. They come to visit and play games, not to judge your food or the house.” Although Amanda knew that wasn’t entirely true, she hoped the words would soothe her mother’s anxiety.

“I should have had Mr. Atwell deliver notes first thing this morning—the moment I remembered. Along with all of these preparations to cause me worry, there’s Sophie’s marriage. That’s bound to cause quite a stir, especially with Elizabeth Oosterman. She’ll likely leave early in order to spread the word throughout the entire region.”

Amanda giggled. “I believe you are exaggerating just a bit, Mother.”

“It might be best if Paul and Sophie went into Clayton for the day. Or perhaps they should go to Canada for a honeymoon. Yes. They could go to Canada for a week or so. If anyone inquires about Sophie’s whereabouts, we can say she’s gone to Brockville for a brief visit.”

“There isn’t time for them to pack for a honeymoon. Neither of them has even come downstairs yet. I think you should simply check with Sophie. If she prefers to keep her marriage secret a while longer, you can gather the adults and tell them that there is no need to mention the wedding.”

The idea appeared to calm her mother. “Why don’t I place you in charge of that task? If Sophie agrees, then the two of you can speak to the family members. Have Fanny help you, too.” Victoria pushed away from the table. “Should Sophie be willing to announce the marriage, you might remind her that Mrs. Oosterman will be among the guests. I’m certain Sophie will recall the woman’s penchant for unearthing every possible detail and then promptly passing it along.”

“I’ll remind her. And I’ll do my best to keep Mrs. Oosterman otherwise occupied.”

“I’m not certain how you’ll manage that feat.”

“Clara Barton is in the islands this week, and she will surely attend with the Pullmans. I want to find out more about Miss Barton’s work with the Red Cross, and I’ll do my best to involve Mrs. Oosterman in the conversation. If she attempts to wander off, I will say something that will entice her back to the conversation.”

Her mother brushed a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, Amanda. Don’t forget to check with Sophie and advise the family that the wedding topic is taboo.” Her mother glanced out the dining room window. “I wonder if some of my grandchildren might be willing to polish silver.”

Amanda shook her head and laughed. “I wish you well with that endeavor.”

By early afternoon Amanda was standing at her mother’s side to welcome their guests. Jonas ushered the men to the side veranda, while the women congregated on the lawn in front of the house and the children scattered to play croquet or tag.

Amanda touched her mother’s arm. “Look. Clara Barton is coming up the path with Royal Pullman. I can hardly wait to visit with her.” Had it not been a breach of etiquette, Amanda would have run down the path to greet the woman.

“She does look well for a woman of her years,” Victoria commented. “I can only hope that I’ll be able to climb that path when I’m nearing eighty years.”

“Is she truly so old?” Amanda’s jaw went slack. The woman appeared no more than sixty.

“So I’m told,” her mother said, stepping forward to greet another guest.

The moment Miss Barton drew near, Amanda hurried to greet her. “I do hope you’ll have an opportunity to sit and visit with me for a short time while you’re here, Miss Barton. I have many questions about your work.”

The older woman smiled and glanced at Mr. Pullman. “If you’d like to join the other men, Royal, it appears I’ve found someone with whom I may converse. I’m certain that if I’m in need of anything, Miss Broadmoor will come to my aid.”

Amanda bobbed her head. “I shall see to her every need, Mr. Pullman.” Once he’d departed, the two women settled into wicker chairs under a nearby shade tree, away from the noise. “I aspire to enter the medical field, and I’d be grateful to hear anything you believe might assist me in my endeavor.”

One of the servants circulated the lawn with a serving tray containing glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. Miss Barton motioned him forward and removed a glass from the tray. “If you want advice on where to attend school and the like, I’m afraid you’ll need to get it elsewhere.” She swallowed a sip of lemonade. “I started out a teacher, you know.”

Amanda sat spellbound and listened while the older woman recounted her past. Miss Barton explained how she’d received her medical training by working alongside doctors during the Civil War. After the war ended, President Lincoln had granted her permission to begin a letter-writing campaign to search for missing Civil War soldiers through the Office of Correspondence.

“How did you conceive the idea of the Red Cross, Miss Barton?”

“Oh, I can’t take credit for the idea, my dear. While I was in Europe I learned about the concept. The idea had been outlined in the Treaty of Geneva. Later, I had an opportunity to travel with Red Cross volunteers serving in the Franco-Prussian War. Their good works amazed me, and I knew we needed the same thing in this country. When I returned home, I began to work toward establishing the American Red Cross.”

Thrilled by Miss Barton’s endeavors, Amanda clung to every word. “You give me hope that I may one day achieve my goals.”

Miss Barton offered a wry smile. “You must remember that in order to gain one thing in life, you must sometimes give up another. One day you will be faced with that difficult decision, Miss Broadmoor. Follow your heart and choose wisely.”