Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Four weeks, six days, and lying to Sophie until the wedding
‘I ’m just saying it was unlike you, that’s all.’
‘Well, perhaps family dinners aren’t my thing!’ Phoebe scowled. ‘Though I think Josephine may have been right – about adventures,’ she added, thinking of all that had taken place recently.
It was a slow-growing realisation; she hadn’t had any of the noble adventures she’d dreamed about, but the past few weeks had been filled with more mishaps, falls from grace, and small triumphs than she’d ever had in her life.
‘What’s that?’
‘It doesn’t matter ... and anyway I attended, didn’t I?’ she amended wearily, picking up her bookish sister’s latest read, A Midsummer Night’s Dream . ‘At least Titania had an excuse,’ she muttered to herself.
‘Yes, well, that’s just it, you attended the dinner, but you didn’t actually attend the dinner!’ Sophie frowned. ‘You spent half the night out in the garden with the peacocks, and then when you did finally join us for two minutes, you left in such an abrupt manner, Aunt assumed the salmon had given you the bellyache! Finally, when you returned – a whole hour later – it was in the company of the captain’s friend, and even though I’d trust Elliot with my life I’m not sure?—’
‘ Dr Kapoor was escorting me back … wait, Elliot ?’
‘Yes, Captain Elliot Damerel.’ Sophie shrugged. ‘I heard Doctor Kapoor address him directly last night, and he told me he only invited his closest friends to call him by his Christian name. It was a clear invitation, don’t you think?’
Phoebe stared at Sophie’s delighted face, and thought no such thing. She exhaled under her breath. Perhaps it was kinder to let her believe she and the captain had an understanding, that waned of its own accord.
‘Perhaps so.’ She smiled faintly. ‘But be careful, you wouldn’t want Aunt to think you were being indiscreet or encouraging his attentions without an understanding .’
‘Of course not!’ Sophie protested, flushing. ‘That is to say, there is nothing to encourage, we’re just friends. But, oh, Phoebe, isn’t he quite the handsomest gentleman?’
Phoebe pictured the viscount’s masked face in the shadows beneath the magnolia tree, and felt the strangest rush.
Could a man be beautiful? In a galleried sort of way?
She looked up to find Sophie staring at her.
‘He was the most dashing officer there,’ she compromised. ‘And one of the kindest, too.’
‘Of course, you also missed the viscount and Lady Aurelia’s official betrothal announcement,’ Sophie added, pinning a ringlet adroitly.
Phoebe looked down at her hands, feeling the same hollow flutter as when her aunt described the announcement as a most proper affair, with just the right amount of pretty language and champagne .
Yet moments before he’d kissed her beneath the magnolia. And moments afterwards, he’d been ready to call the constable. She swallowed again. She’d suspected the viscount was trifling, and now she was certain of it.
‘I’m sure it was perfectly arranged,’ she returned tightly.
‘Well, I thought the earl was in … good form,’ Sophie tried valiantly. ‘He only danced with you! Aunt says all the mamas were talking about it, and how yours will be the match of the season when the news is official.’
Phoebe pictured the purple-faced earl’s tight frock coat, and ridiculous shirt points, and refrained from saying anything. Being seen with the earl in company had only made her world shrink further. Yet perhaps she was never intended to be anything more than his wife, onion-scented or not.
‘I’ve heard the earl’s estate in Cumberland is five times the size of Knightswood,’ Sophie chattered on, while colour-coordinating her stockings. ‘Plus, he has houses in London, Bath, and all over the place! You need not see each other from one season to the next if you don’t wish it, except perhaps on birthdays and at Christmas…’
She looked up, a sudden wobble in her voice.
‘Oh, Phoebe, what of birthdays and Christmas?! How are you to leave us at all? What if Josephine has one of her seizures, or Matilda falls out of a tree, or the twins hide a box of frogs in my bed or––’
‘Hush now.’ Phoebe chuckled, crossing the room and pulling her sister into a tight hug. ‘You’re a Fairfax, remember? No tree is too high, no pudding too large!’
Sophie gurgled in the most unladylike manner, before nodding.
‘I know, and I know Josephine was right, too: being heroic really isn’t about running away to join the theatre or pinking unimpressive highwaymen, is it?’
‘More’s the pity.’ Phoebe sighed, rolling her eyes.
‘It’s in the decisions we make, and the way we treat others.’
Phoebe nodded, reaching out to squeeze Sophie’s hand.
‘And I always knew we’d end up leaving Knightswood and starting our own homes and families,’ Sophie continued tearfully. ‘It’s just I thought I’d feel older, readier. But now, I can’t help but think that when one of us leaves, things will never be the same again.’
Phoebe pulled her close again, a sudden, hard lump in her throat.
‘I don’t know what the future holds, Sophie,’ she returned, ‘but I can tell you that wherever we may be, we will always have each other. And nothing, and no one, can ever change that.’
Sophie smiled wanly, burying her head in Phoebe’s shoulder just as Matilda hurtled into the room and threw herself on the bed.
‘I fell off the wall, Josephine has the cough, and Cook has just made the most divine batch of shortbread… And who can’t change what?’ she demanded, yawing and rolling over to reveal three warm shortbread in her hand. ‘I’ve already smuggled one in to Jo. Aunt said best not to give her anything until she stopped coughing, but I figured – who would want to be coughing and hungry?’
There was a moment’s silence before her sisters burst into laughter.
‘Besides, aren’t they delicious, delightful and…’
Matilda paused to look at her sisters expectantly.
‘ Delectably, deliriously good?’ Phoebe grinned, snagging the biggest piece.
Sophie giggled, earning herself a pillow swat.
‘Show off!’ Matilda pronounced, rolling her eyes.
‘Oh … and Fred is downstairs!’
Then she grinned and scoffed the rest of her shortbread, while her sisters took off at speed.