Chapter 9
In the morning, Sophie found herself surrounded by unfamiliar bed-curtains and wondered where she was.
Then she remembered—Overtree Hall. She rolled to her back and looked upward.
Above her in the paneled oak canopy, she noticed a square opening to allow smoke to escape, and guessed Colonel Horton must smoke a pipe or cigar.
She glanced to the side and saw morning sunlight filtering through sheer lace draperies, the window shutters opened by a stealthy Libby, she guessed.
Her gaze quickly darted to the captain’s dressing room, door slightly ajar and silent.
Libby entered through the other dressing room, and seeing her, Sophie sat up and pushed down the bedclothes.
“Is Captain Overtree . . . ?”
“Already gone downstairs, ma’am. Early riser, your husband.”
Sophie climbed from bed, stepped to the washstand, and cleaned her face and teeth.
“What would you like to wear today?” the maid asked.
“I don’t know. What do you think would be most appropriate? I suppose the Overtree ladies wear morning gowns and then change for dinner?”
“You are an Overtree lady now, ma’am, don’t forget.”
Libby pulled out the deep gown drawers in the dressing room one by one. “If you don’t mind my saying, ma’am. New gowns might be in order. Please don’t be angry!”
“I am not angry, Libby. Only embarrassed.”
“No need, ma’am. They are not bad.” She shook out an ivory muslin day dress. “This one would suit, I think. But you could use a few more. Especially if the elder Mrs. Overtree takes it into her head to invite neighbors in to meet you. Everyone will want to see the captain’s new bride.”
The neighbors might be curious, Sophie allowed, though she privately doubted Janet Overtree would be eager to show off her “inferior” new daughter-in-law.
Libby helped Sophie dress and fulfilled her promise with the hot iron, curling tight ringlets on either side of her face. Sophie hoped she did not look like one of Thomas Gainsborough’s poodles—or as silly as she felt.
A short time later, Sophie was surprised and relieved to find herself alone at breakfast. But that feeling soon seeped away, replaced by unease. Had she slept so terribly late? Had she broken some family rule?
“Excuse me, have the family all eaten?” she asked the attending footman.
“The mistress has her breakfast sent up on a tray, and the young miss is taking hers in the morning room.” He added, “Captain and Mr. Overtree are meeting with Mr. Humphries, the estate manager, but I expect them shortly. And Colonel Horton ate earlier and has gone off riding.”
“I thought his horse was unwell.”
The young man nodded and brought her a toasted muffin. “He took one of the other horses, or so I heard the groom mention. Some errand that would not wait.”
“I see.”
Sophie was just finishing her solitary breakfast when Mr. Overtree came in, his hair windblown.
“Good morning, Sophie,” he said. “I trust you slept well and the room is to your liking?”
“Yes, thank you.” She regarded his ruddy cheeks and bright eyes. “You look well, I must say.”
“Do I? It must be that I’ve gone for a brisk morning stroll. My first in weeks.”
“I am glad you felt well enough to do so.”
“Yes, I found myself equal to a short walk today.” He grinned. “Especially as my wife was not yet down to object.”
Sophie returned his smile. She remained a few minutes longer, asking about the weather and his plans for the day, and then excused herself to seek out Kate.
She found the girl curled up on a sofa in the morning room, a cup of hot chocolate on the end table beside her, feet tucked under a lap rug and paper curlers peeping out from beneath her cap. She looked up and brightened upon seeing her in the doorway.
“There you are. My new sister. Come in and join me. Shall I ring for chocolate or coffee?”
“I’ve just had my breakfast, thank you.”
“Sleepy head. Up late last night, I imagine?” Her dark eyes shone with too much mischief for a girl her age.
Sophie crossed the room. “I did not sleep well, no. Does everyone in your family rise early?”
“Yes, except for my brother, Wesley. Though Mamma takes forever to dress. We rarely see her before eleven.”
Sophie glanced at the book in the girl’s lap. “What are you reading?”
“A novel called Sense and Sensibility. Have you read it?”
“I have not. I don’t read many novels.”
“You should. They are so romantic. Amusing too.” Kate patted the sofa next to her. “Come and sit. You promised to tell me all about how you and Stephen met and how he proposed to you.”
Sophie sat down. “Did I?”
Kate nodded, paper curls bouncing against her brow, eyes alight. “Yes, I want to hear every romantic detail of your whirlwind courtship. Everyone in our family has them. Oh, and you should hear how Grandfather won over our grandmother. We have passionate natures, Grandfather says.”
Her face looked so innocent and eager that Sophie hated to disappoint her.
Captain Overtree’s voice startled her from the doorway. “Come now, Kate,” he cautioned. “You know my taciturn disposition too well to think me a romantic cavalier.”
“You are just being modest.” Kate turned those hopeful eyes toward Sophie. “Is he not?”
He grimaced. “Kate, I am sorry to disappoint you, but the truth is . . .”
“Actually, you are perfectly right, Kate,” Sophie interrupted. “It was quite . . . unforgettable.”
“I knew it,” Kate breathed. How did you meet?”
“I was standing atop a windy cliff at sunset . . .”
“Oh! How gothic!” the girl enthused.
“Yes. And I dropped . . . something.”
“A handkerchief?”
“No. A letter, with sentimental value from . . . an old friend. I tried to reach it myself, but your brother dashed up the path, called over the roaring wind for me to stay back, and insisted he would rescue it for me.”
“Stephen!” Kate beamed at him. “I knew it would be something wonderful!”
“My wife exaggerates,” he said, eyeing her speculatively. “In fact, she astounds me with her storytelling ability.”
Sophie continued dramatically, “He brandished his sword—”
“Walking stick,” he corrected.
“And reached the letter, dragging it unharmed to the path.”
“More likely soiled and spoilt.”
“A gust of wind nearly pushed me over the edge—”
“Only her bonnet.”
“But he caught me just in time.”
He huffed. “Now I really must protest.”
“Was she truly in danger?” Kate asked eagerly. “Did you save her life?”
He hesitated. “I . . . did wonder when I first saw her if she meant to—if she was in danger there on the cliff, reaching over the edge as she was, foolish woman. But I don’t think she really would have fallen.”
“Quibble over details all you like, Captain,” Sophie said softly. “But you rescued me in Lynmouth. You cannot deny it.”
His stormy gaze met hers, caution, surprise, and something more flickering in his eyes. “I have no wish to deny it.”
“And did he propose then and there?” Kate asked.
Sophie thought back. “Not that very night. But the next day, yes.”
Kate turned to her older brother, all wide-eyed naiveté. “Was it love at first sight, Stephen?”
Sophie expected the captain to joke off the uncomfortable question, to ruffle his sister’s hair and say, “Enough now. You’ve had your romantic tale.”
Instead he slowly shifted his focus from his sister’s earnest face to Sophie’s and said solemnly, “Yes, it was.”
Sophie’s breath hitched. For a moment she held his gaze in surprise. Then she looked away first.
“I knew it,” Kate repeated on a sigh, sinking back into the cushions with a wistful, faraway expression, a contented smile on her pixie-like face.
Sophie reminded herself the captain had probably fabricated his answer, or at least exaggerated, caught up as she had been in her rosy version of their meeting. Surely that was all.
Mrs. Overtree entered, looked from one to the other, then frowned at her daughter.
“Katherine, go and dress, my dear. We don’t want Sophie to think proper young ladies lie about in their caps all day.”
“Very well, Mamma.” Kate set aside her book and rose.
Mrs. Overtree turned to her son. “I was thinking a tour of the manor and grounds might be in order for Sophie. Though with the wind whipping outside as it is, perhaps just the house for now.”
“Excellent idea, Mamma. I would join you but Grandfather asked me to meet with the farrier for him. He had to leave on some errand that could not wait, apparently.”
“Did he say what it was?”
“Not to me, no.”
“Very well. I shall give Sophie the tour myself. Come along.”
Sophie rose and followed Mrs. Overtree around the square-plan house, trying to imagine Wesley and his siblings growing up there. They went through the public rooms, a few of which Sophie had already seen: dining room, morning room, white parlour, billiards room, library, and hall.
Surveying the high echoing chamber once more, Sophie was again struck by its familiarity.
Perhaps she had seen a hall just like it in one of the fine houses she had visited with her father.
In the musicians’ gallery above, she noticed a plaster mask on the wall that looked like a jester’s face.
She had certainly not seen it before. That, she would have remembered.
Mrs. Overtree led the way up the stairs.
The first floor up held primarily bedchambers.
She pointed out Kate’s, Stephen’s old room—now the colonel’s—and theirs.
Mrs. Overtree pushed open the door to her and her husband’s room, very similar in layout to the one Sophie now shared with the captain.
Then Mrs. Overtree led her into her “boudoir,” a large dressing room with sofa and chair as well as the requisite wardrobes and cupboards.
She opened one of these and ran a hand through the fine fabrics within.
“If you need any gowns now you are here, you need only say so. If fact, I think I shall ask my lady’s maid to take in a few of mine to fit you. ”
Sophie wasn’t sure whether to feel grateful or embarrassed.