Chapter 15 Abandoned
Simon slept badly again, and he was beginning to understand why.
When a man’s dreams, both waking and sleeping, are filled with a certain face and a certain smile and a certain pair of luminous eyes, the conclusion is inescapable.
No matter how many times he sternly told himself he was not in love with Sophia — that he could not afford to be in love with her — still he could not get her out of his head.
Despite this, he held no dislike of Lord Daniel.
He was something of a coxcomb, of course, with his fancy clothes and a certain air in his manner of walking and his speech that marked him as a son of the nobility, an air which Simon had either lost or never managed to acquire.
But the fellow admired Sophia and was prepared to chase round the country in pursuit of her, and Simon could not fault him for that.
If he were to marry her and make her happy, then he might have her with Simon’s goodwill.
So although he rose early and unsettled, he was not truly unhappy.
A little sad that such a lovely woman would never be his, but there had never been the least possibility of it, so her loss did not weigh him down.
In a few more days, perhaps, all would be settled between them, and that would be the end of it.
Simon would go back to London with a little ache in his heart where Sophia had crept, almost unnoticed, into his affections, but he would be kept too busy trying to earn money to feel any grief. Or so he told himself.
He passed an hour or two sketching details for the gallery — there was something mesmerising about ceiling designs, so that was mostly where his efforts went — and then Robert appeared with his washing water.
“Heard the news, have you, sir?” he said cheerfully, mopping up a little spillage.
“What news? Not the baby? Or Mrs Richard?”
“No, no, nothin’ amiss there. No, it’s that markiss’s son — Lord Daniel.”
It was just as well that Simon was not carrying anything at that moment, for he would surely have dropped it. “What has happened to Lord Daniel?” he croaked, as a myriad possibilities, all of them hideous, passed through his mind.
“Gorn, ain’t he.”
His eyebrows flew up. That was the last thing he had expected.
“Gone? What do you mean, gone?”
“Just that, sir. Sent for his carriage at first light, and lord, that caused a rumpus in the stables, with every last groom havin’ to be dragged from his bed, the horses not best pleased either, and his coachman not in his bed at all and havin’ to be searched for all over.
Found him in the dairymaid’s cottage, if you please, and his lordship standin’ in the yard waitin’ for him.
Don’t fancy he’ll last two minutes once he gets his master home.
And away they went, oh, more’n an hour ago now. ”
“Where has he gone?”
“Don’t know. No one knows, or if they do, they’re not telling. But he’s gone, right enough.”
Impossible to make any sense of it. Why would Lord Daniel suddenly turn tail and run away, when all was going on so prosperously with Sophia?
It was unfathomable. The obvious answer of an urgent message from home could not apply, because the servants would know of any messenger arriving in the middle of the night.
Puzzled, he dressed in haste and made his way hopefully to the breakfast parlour, where he might hear more.
He was in luck, for James Hammond was alone there. He looked up at Simon and grinned. “Heard about our runaway, have you?”
“Lord Daniel? I have heard. Any idea why?”
“Concerned about his father’s health, apparently. The letter he received yesterday was not reassuring, and he decided upon reflection to hasten to his bedside.”
“I thought it was gout? Hardly a life-threatening condition.”
Hammond laughed. “Exactly so. Myself, I suspect a lover’s tiff… or perhaps he just thought better of it, who can say? I am sorry for Miss Sophia, of course, but I think she is better off without him, frankly.”
“Do you?” Simon said, startled. “The son of a marquess?”
“The third son of a marquess, with no profession or estate of his own, and he looks expensive, to me. He will run through her dowry in no time, and probably end by breaking his neck on the hunting field, leaving her with a string of children and no money. I have tried to make this point to her brother, but he was so excessively pleased at the prospect of marrying her off to somebody — anybody — that I could not get him to see the potential pitfalls.”
Godley came in just then, to be told all about it.
Simon silently filled his plate and ate thoughtfully.
Poor Sophia! She must be quite cast down by this turn of events, for it was clear that Torbuck had taken fright and bolted.
Was her proposed dowry not enough for him?
Given his high rank, he might have looked for more than ten thousand.
Or perhaps the continual hazard of being unable to recognise his beloved in a gaggle of sisters had become too much for him.
He would surely have learnt to distinguish her in time, just as Simon had done.
Pyott came and went, and then Hester Merrington, a little sour faced this morning.
Richard Merrington and Mrs Hastings came in, ate quickly and then dashed away to attend the new mother again.
Simon lingered after everyone else had left, making his final piece of toast last as long as possible in the hope of seeing Sophia.
Finally, the Merrington ladies arrived in their usual crowd, but Sophia was not amongst them.
The servants had all disappeared momentarily, so Simon jumped up to hold chairs for them.
He wondered what he ought to say to them — should he enquire about Sophia or should he say nothing at all, and act as if everything was normal?
They were unusually subdued, which was not surprising, given the circumstances, and he had no wish to distress them further.
But he was spared the necessity for a decision by Mrs Merrington.
“You will have heard, no doubt, Mr Payne, that Lord Daniel has gone home?” she said. “A sad day for us, as I am sure you will appreciate.”
“Indeed. I was very sorry to hear of his sudden departure. His father is ill, I understand.”
“Well, yes, but that would not— However, he is gone, and I do not suppose he will return.”
“Perhaps once he is assured that his father is on the mend—?”
She shook her head decisively. “No. He left a note for me, you see, and he made no mention of returning, not the least hint. It sounded very much like a farewell.”
“It is very dreadful for poor Sophia,” whispered one of the sisters. Charlotte? Yes, he was sure of it.
“To have her expectations raised,” said Augusta.
“And so cruelly dashed,” said Maria.
“He must be mad!” Simon said forcefully. “Who, having spent so much time with Miss Sophia, could fail to be enchanted by her?”
The sisters murmured in pleasure, and Mrs Merrington smiled and reached across the table to pat his hand. “Ah, how kind you are to say so, Mr Payne. Naturally, we see no fault in Sophia, but perhaps Lord Daniel saw something in her that did not just suit him.”
“No, indeed, I cannot allow that,” he said, setting the sisters off again. “I had rather suppose that he has hopes of a higher dowry.”
“That is true,” Mrs Merrington said, brightening a little.
“He might have looked for twenty or even thirty thousand, and being a younger son, he will need to marry well since he has no profession. Yes, that may be it — now that he has discovered that Sophia will only have ten thousand, he has decided against her.”
“Only ten thousand?” Charlotte said, raising her eyebrows. “Until a few weeks ago, all any of us could expect was two and a half thousand.”
“Perhaps that is why we have never had an offer,” Augusta said sadly.
“We are just too poor,” Maria said.
Simon doubted that was the problem. Four fine looking girls, all well-mannered and educated, and moreover related to a duke should not have any trouble finding husbands.
Lack of fortune was not much of an obstacle, for were there not men enough in the world with the wealth not to care for fortune? It was a puzzle.
“Does Miss Sophia keep to her room?” he said.
“She is about somewhere, hiding away,” her mother said.
“I expect she wishes to be left alone,” he said disconsolately, realising belatedly just how much he had longed to see her.
“Oh no, she is not hungry, that is all,” her mother said. “She knows where we will be, so when she wants company again she will come to find us.”
There was no reason for Simon to stay any longer, so as soon as Froggett returned to the room, he went out into the hall, and stood irresolute.
Where should he go? He was not minded to work on his designs, nor was Juliet likely to be good company.
The library wing was liable to bring him into the orbit of Hammond and Pyott, and possibly the duke or Richard, but the prospect of male conversation was not enticing, either.
“Are you in need of assistance, sir?” Froggett said, emerging from the breakfast parlour again.
“No, thank you,” he said, turning promptly into the Blue Parlour and thence through a series of chambers to the chapel wing.
The chapel… Godley went out for his morning walk at this hour, so the chapel would be deserted.
Simon went in, sat on the servants’ bench at the back and, by long habit, bent his head in prayer.
Into the silence came a muffled sound. Someone was weeping.
Low sunlight flooding in illuminated every corner of the chapel, and unless the weeper was hiding behind the altar, he was quite alone.
Another sob.
Jumping up, he strode the full length of the chapel, peeked behind the altar, just to be sure, and then back to the centre. No one was there, yet someone was crying nearby.
“Who is there?” he called.
The sounds stopped. Then a tremulous voice from above. “Mr Payne? I am up here.”