Chapter 7
The stultifying tick of the clock resounded in the drawing room, which was absent of all other noise. Marie leaned back on the reclining sofa and offered Sophia a sheepish look.
“I cannot think what possessed me to ask Mr. Harwood whether he ever paid morning calls and to follow up that piece of nonsense by assuring him I would be in your drawing room should he wish to do so.”
Sophia smiled listlessly, prey to the mixed feelings of anticipating Mr. Harwood’s presence in her very own drawing room, while knowing that if he did come, there was every reason to suspect he had done so to see Marie.
“And now that I’ve said it, I’m obliged to haunt your drawing room until he pays a visit,” Marie continued. “Poor you.”
This produced a genuine giggle from Sophia.
“Well, as neither he nor Mr. Cunningworth have actually called these two days past, perhaps we have made a fuss over nothing. Before Mr. Cunningworth announced his intentions, I had not even given morning calls a thought, whether it was to make them or receive them. Dorothea is not here to arrange the calls as she did last year; my mother never thinks of them, and we have not gone out in Society enough to expect them.”
“I feel it is all my fault,” Marie admitted.
The door to the drawing room opened and Camilla entered as Sophia sighed and shook her head. “It is not your fault, for Mr. Cunningworth has promised to visit.”
“You mean he has threatened to visit,” Camilla said as she joined their circle.
Sophia gave her sister a reproving look but was unable to repress a chuckle.
Rather than dignify that comment with an answer, she turned to Marie.
“I don’t suppose I would have made any effort to be at home if it were just to await Mr. Cunningworth’s visit.
” The silence that followed this made room for her worry that she had given too much away.
Did Marie take it to mean she was now staying at home because of Mr. Harwood?
Before that particular fear could grow to gargantuan proportions, Camilla changed the subject. “I told Joanna and Tilly to come down as soon as they can make themselves presentable. They have been quarreling, and we are all of us in need of some diversion.”
“Even if that diversion is Mr. Cunningworth?” Sophia asked, and was instantly seized with guilt for having made him the subject of her joke. She rushed on. “Will Mother come down?”
Camilla shook her head. “Mama is feeling poorly and says we will have to do without her company today.”
Marie murmured a consolation, then added, “Well, as your sister has said, perhaps we are all assembled here for nothing, for it is the third day of waiting and we have yet to receive a single visitor.”
As if on cue, the rap of the knocker sounded on the front door. Sophia and Marie both turned their heads toward the main hall to listen for the voices that would identify their callers. Joanna and Tilly entered the drawing room from the private entrance.
“Take the seat there,” Joanna urged their youngest sister before sitting beside Sophia on the sofa. Seconds later, the butler entered the drawing room.
“My ladies, three gentlemen are here to see you. Mr. Cunningworth, Mr. Harwood, and Mr. Grantly.”
“Show them in, please.” At hearing Mr. Harwood’s name, Sophia’s throat went dry, but she had no time to examine this before the gentleman entered the room. He glanced at everyone present, but she felt his eyes on her. She had never been so nervous in her own drawing room before.
Greetings and courtesies were exchanged, and they piled into the remaining seats in the center of the drawing room. Mr. Cunningworth chose the seat next to Marie, which was to Sophia’s left, and Mr. Harwood and Mr. Grantly took the chairs opposite.
Mr. Harwood broke the silence. “It is just as you said, Miss Mowbray. We find you here during calling hours.”
“Yes.” Marie looked embarrassed and, perhaps for the first time since Sophia had known her, did not have a ready rejoinder.
“Well, I hope you were not sitting here for the past three days waiting for us to come.” Robert laughed heartily, causing Marie to shoot a miserable glance at Sophia, who was too irritated by Robert’s comment to return a sympathetic one.
For what he had said was nothing short of the truth.
She had wasted three days, but it was not for him.
It was for Mr. Harwood, and then only to watch his courtship with Marie.
She looked at him, and his gaze quickly skittered away as though he had been looking at her, too. Was…was it possible he had come for her?
The footman and maid had been well-trained by Dorothea and entered the drawing room carrying the tea things before the guests had been made to wait for too long.
The ritual of preparing tea gave Sophia something to do and allowed her to gain some mastery over her nerves.
She gave instructions for where to put the trays and went over to the cabinet on the side of the room where the tea was kept.
Marie, too, had seemed to regain her equilibrium, for she kept the guests amused by dissecting the upcoming social events and giving her opinions on which ones were worth attending.
Sophia had been following the conversation with hopes that Mr. Harwood might publicly commit to attending one of the events to which she might also be invited. Although he did not offer any clues to his plans, he did turn to Tilly on his right, and asked what she best liked to do in London.
She looked surprised at his having addressed her, but responded decisively. “I like to do what everyone else likes. Of course, I cannot go to balls yet, but I like to do everything else. I just don’t like staying home.”
“I understand you perfectly,” he replied, his expression sympathetic. Sophia was touched that he had singled out her youngest sister, who was often neglected when visitors came.
“You ought to try a picnic, if one can be organized for you,” Mr. Grantly said, then turned to the rest of the company.
“As a matter of fact, I have come with just such an intention. With the coming of warmer weather, my aunt, Mrs. Taylor, wishes to organize a picnic on Primrose Hill and has been pestering me to add some young people to her guest list.”
At his unusual manner of giving his invitation, Camilla shot Sophia a look full of humor.
“Doesn’t Primrose Hill have a reputation for base conduct?” Marie asked, her eyebrows knit. “Dueling and such?”
“Not in broad daylight,” Mr. Grantly assured her. “And you need have no fears that there will be anything unsavory involved—not where my aunt is concerned. As I am her only nephew, you may be assured that I will procure invitations for all of you as soon as she sets the date.”
“Even one for me?” Tilly asked, causing Mr. Grantly to grow self-conscious. Joanna sent Tilly a subtle shake of her head with an added glare that told her not to speak out of turn.
When Mr. Grantly did not respond, Robert attempted to pacify Tilly with a studied look of sympathy. “Such gatherings will not usually include children, you must understand. Mrs. Taylor has never had any children of her own and therefore does not know what to do with them.”
Tilly looked dismayed at the combined reproof from Joanna, their neighbor from Surrey, and the rejection.
Sophia’s heart went out to her, but she did not know how to ease the situation.
She had often reflected that it was not easy to be in her position.
Tilly was the youngest of the family, and the closest one to her in age—Joanna—was only interested in spending her time in the stables or on horseback.
“Lady Matilda.” Mr. Harwood waited until he had her attention.
“If Mrs. Taylor has set a limitation on the number of guests she wishes to have at her picnic, I propose that we plan another picnic together next to the Thames.” He glanced at Sophia.
“That is, if your mother will approve of the idea and can provide a chaperone.”
“It might be difficult,” Robert said, frowning. “Lady Poole is often unwell.”
“Lady Matilda has sisters old enough to serve as chaperones,” Mr. Harwood replied, undaunted.
Sophia looked at Mr. Harwood in surprise. Why was he doing this? Was it to show Marie what sort of a man he was? Or was it purely to give encouragement to her sister? Or was it for some other reason? And why had Robert attempted to put a spoke in the wheel, when he did not have to go?
Tilly glanced shyly at Mr. Harwood, but as tears sparkled on her lashes, she looked away again. Sophia quietly willed her to answer but suspected she was unable to. After a moment of wrestling with her difficulty in speaking out, she did it for her.
“That is a gracious invitation, Mr. Harwood. I am sure my mother will approve of the plan, and I’m sure Tilly would love to go.
” She smiled at her sister in encouragement, then turned back to Mr. Harwood.
There was warmth in his expression, and suddenly she was sure he had done it for her sister and not for Marie.
She broke the connection and looked into the teapot to distract herself.
Another knock came as Sophia began to pour, and she exchanged a look of surprise with Marie.
They had not been expecting any other visitors, and the ones they had been waiting for for three days were currently in the drawing room.
Turton entered a second time to announce the newest arrivals.
“Lady Dorothea Shaw, Mr. Miles Shaw, and Lord Pembroke.”
Movement to Sophia’s right caused her to turn toward Camilla, who sat upright. Setting down the teapot, Sophia caught her attention and lifted a brow in question that asked ‘was this your idea?’ Camilla’s eyes widened and she gave a small shake of her head.
“Good day,” Dorothea said, sailing into the room, her husband and Lord Pembroke behind her. “I see you are rather full of guests this morning. We shall not stay long, then. I wished to pay a call on Lady Berkley, as well.”