Chapter 29 #2
Well after dark, Sophie and Theodore finally returned to the hotel, having gotten enough necessities to present a respectable appearance in regard to hygiene and baggage.
The Thieves’ Market—which she hoped was not so very steeped in thievery—had been a revelation.
It reminded her greatly of the East End Ragfair, a London market which respectable women never visited, but where one could buy a plethora of second-hand clothing.
The Thieves’ Market was nicer than the Ragfair, for the bright stucco and red tiles were more cheerful than the sooty, dark streets of London’s East End.
But like the Ragfair, one could find second-hand clothing, stockings, combs, used razors, hats and bonnets, and much more.
Theodore was a little churlish about stooping to the level of a used razor, but Sophia only laughed at him.
“I know we could afford better, but we are being circumspect. Especially since we decided to squander those two guineas on the parakeet.”
How easily we tripped off her tongue; it was remarkable. She felt as if she had known him for years, as if he was a dear friend in addition to—something far closer.
“Very well,” he said, “but this is not what I’m accustomed to.”
“What are you accustomed to?” Sophia asked as they returned to their room on the next storey of the Corpo Santo.
She had been buoyed up on a wave of determination—and a little fear—while they shopped, but now the exhaustion of the day struck again.
They would leave at six in the morning on the road coach to Coimbra, so it would be a short night.
“How do you mean?” He entered the room first and used a taper to light their candle. “What am I accustomed to…?”
Sophia entered in his wake. “You quote Virgil, and you speak of Eton and Cambridge as if you truly attended. You certainly speak like a gentleman, but I know better than anyone that a good education can cover a—chequered career.”
“Ah, yes. As it happens, no, I did not attend Eton, but I did spend several years at Cambridge.”
“As a student?”
“Not quite, although I learned more than the average student, I assure you.”
“Oh?” She stripped off her gloves as he poured the water that the housemaid had left for them.
“I was a clerk for a classics professor, a Mr. Monroe. I was his secretary, and sometimes his amanuensis—I copied out his lectures, kept class records, managed his correspondence. I learned more Latin than I’ll ever use and I acquired—very fair penmanship.”
He stepped aside while Sophia washed her face. One could not rush around Lisbon in June without acquiring a fine sheen of sweat and dust.
“I spoke to many students who had travelled just before they started at Cambridge—that’s how I picked up a little Spanish. That’s also what gave me the idea to pass myself off as an innocent on the Grand Tour.”
“The bagwig who ate the cheese sauce—was that true?”
“Yes, I saw it! I wasn’t part of the prank, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.”
“And the—er—forgery?” she asked delicately.
“After I left Monroe, I took a job at an engraving office in London. Fascinating work, that. Maybe something I’ll do again someday—the engraving, not the forgery.
And well, one thing led to another. But I daresay I can find honest work, and if not, there is always the army.
” He used a shoehorn to get off his second boot and started on the buttons of his shirt.
“How do you feel about gambling, by the by?”
“Did you fleece those poor boys at Cambridge?”
He grinned. “On occasion.”
Sophia became aware that they were both preparing for bed as if they had done it many times.
But as unconventional as it had been, this was in some sense their wedding night.
Her face must have shown her sudden realization for he gave a rueful smile.
“I wondered when that would come back to you. It is already late, and we have to be up early for the public coach. I propose that we rest—and I do mean rest—as much as we can before then.”
“I think that’d be best.”
He left his boots outside the door for a servant to polish—as they had been assured was a part of the amenities offered by the hotel—and he waited outside while Sophia changed into a second-hand nightdress.
It smelt a little strange to her, like salt and dust, but it looked clean.
Having been at sea for several weeks, she did not mind it much.
Sophia turned away while he changed into his nightshirt.
“This smells like pipe tobacco.” His voice was a little reproachful. “And not the best sort.”
“You’re very fastidious for a counterfeiter, aren’t you?”
“What a critic.”
She slid under the linens and drew them up high, for though it was summer, she was tired and chilled by the night air.
He rifled through his coat which he had carefully hung on a chair and brought out his pocket watch. “I asked the boots to wake us early, but we shall have to be careful of the time.” He placed the watch on the desk.
That he was a large man, she already knew, but it was quite different when he doused the lamp and climbed into bed. She moved further to the side to make room for him, but it was not a very large mattress. When they both lay on their backs, their arms were pressed together.
“Well, Sophy? Not having second thoughts yet?” He turned onto his side to face her, making a little more room. He was lit only by the dim light of the quarter moon in the window.
“No, I’m fine, I think.”
“That was confident.”
A thought had occurred to Sophia, and she wasn’t sure whether to entertain it.
She had told Anne about her past. Most of polite society would consider Sohpia fallen.
She hadn’t been so forthright with Theodore, but she would not be surprised if he had guessed.
And she knew on good authority that a man, no matter his peccadillos, did not look with indifference on a woman’s past. But surely if that troubled Theodore, he wouldn’t have pledged even a civil contract with her?
She knew that he liked her—it was as if they had been friends for years, not weeks—but that was not quite the same as being at peace with her as a wife.
“Does it—trouble you that I’m a widow?” Sophia was only able to be so bold because of the darkness and the camaraderie she’d felt all day.
“No. Does it trouble you?”
“I thought perhaps your reluctance tonight, though natural—”
“Reluctance?” He propped himself up on an elbow. “Either you don’t know what that word means, or I have been very unclear.”
“My past is not unspotted, which I assume you know, based on Lady Marston’s insults.”
“Unless you have a husband under the bed, I don’t care what happened before. Reluctance… I asked to kiss you once before, will you give me leave now?”
“You don’t have to ask permission now, but yes.”
“Sophy…”He leaned down to kiss her and Sophia’s toes curled. He left no doubt that he was anything but reluctant.
Sophia found her hand sinking into his hair—how was it so soft?—and for just a moment his weight shifted onto her, his hand at her hip.
His lips were slow to leave hers, but he pulled away eventually. “When we are not exhausted and facing a long carriage ride—we’ll finish this.”
He tucked her back against his chest and put his arm around her waist. “Is this comfortable?”
“Very comfortable. The bed is a little small.”
“Indeed it is. This is really the only way to have enough space.” Sophia closed her eyes as his thumb lazily stroked her hand. She sighed happily. “I never dreamed this morning that the day would end like this.”
“I did,” he said. “I didn’t think it likely, but I hoped it was possible.”
“Do you feel the bed rocking as if we were still at sea?”
“I do. I wonder when that will fade.”
“Not for a while, I hope.”
“Then I hope you’ll dream of parakeets and packet ships, and I’ll wake you in the morning. Goodnight, my dear.”
The End