Chapter 12
In the morning, Stephen trudged down the stairs toward the breakfast parlour.
He had not slept well. Dashed sofa was a rock.
His thoughts about the woman in the next room had not helped either, as usual.
But he congratulated himself—he had made it.
He was about to leave to rejoin his regiment with his dignity intact, and his vow to himself, and to Sophie, honored.
As he had promised, he had not expected anything of her or pressured her.
He had been a perfect gentleman, at least in outward behavior.
His foul, irritable moods and sometimes his words?
Not as gallant as they might have been. His inward thoughts?
His desires? Probably not as pure as God would have liked. But then again, she was his wife . . .
Even so, he had kept his distance, at least physically, hoping that would make the coming separation less painful. Or would he second-guess himself every hour? Berate himself for not taking her in his arms while he could?
“May I walk with you?” Sophie’s voice called from above.
He paused and waited for her on the half landing. “You’re up early.”
“I wanted to be. For your last day.”
He nodded and they continued down the stairs together. In the breakfast parlour, he helped himself to a full plate, knowing it would be a long time before he ate this well again—if ever.
Sophie chose hot chocolate and a bread roll. She sipped daintily at one and picked at the other.
“I hope you eat better than that while I’m gone.” He glanced toward the door to make sure they were alone. “You are eating for two now after all.”
She nodded, and her chin quivered. Was she sad to see him go or relieved to be rid of him? Who knew? Women were strange, foreign creatures.
His grandfather entered the room, waving an open letter like a flag. His face was as jubilant as a child’s on Christmas. “What a surprise I have in store for you, my boy. You shall never guess. Ah, good, Sophie is here as well.”
“What is it?” Stephen felt himself tense. He despised surprises.
“We shall call it a late wedding present.”
“Oh?”
“I rode over to see my old friend Forsythe a few days ago and just received confirmation. I negotiated another fortnight’s leave for you.
No bridegroom should have to run off to rejoin his regiment when there isn’t a war on.
Another two weeks of wedded bliss with your bride.
Not a real wedding trip, I grant you. Your grandmother and I traveled the continent for the greater part of a year.
But as this more than doubles your current honeymoon, I think it must suffice. ”
Stephen sat there, stunned. He turned toward Sophie, meeting her startled look. Without removing his gaze from hers, he said, “I . . . don’t know what to say. You shouldn’t have, sir.”
“Of course I should. No use reaching this rank if I can’t be of some use now. It is a great pleasure to do something good for my grandson and his wife.”
“But I am all packed. Sophie and I have discussed everything related to my absence and have said our good-byes.”
“Well, then, now you may say hello and good-bye all over again. Though I daresay you shall enjoy the former more than the latter.” The colonel’s eyes twinkled.
“It is very thoughtful, sir. But I don’t think I ought to remain here any longer. My commander expects me.”
“Forsythe will take care of all that. He said to tell you not to give it another thought. It’s all arranged. He did mention something about naming your firstborn child after him, but I never cared for the name Ethelbert myself, so I made no promises.” He winked.
The colonel looked from one to the other, and his boyish smile faded. “I begin to think you do not like my gift, though I cannot fathom the reason. Are my feelings to be hurt? And no doubt your wife’s in the bargain?”
Sophie spoke up at last, “It is very kind of you, Colonel. Truly. We are only taken aback. We dared not think of such a possibility, when we have been steeling ourselves for the . . . inevitable.”
Colonel Horton patted her hand. “There, there. What a good soldier you are, my dear. You chose wisely, my boy—I can see that already. Now let me do this small thing for you. All right?”
Stephen met her gaze again, and she gave a slight nod. “Then indeed I shall stay, sir,” he said. “And bless you for it.”
“Yes, Colonel,” Sophie added. “We are very grateful.”
“Now that is more like it,” the older man said.
“And I have thought of some diversions for the two of you while you’re here.
You ought to take a picnic to Norcombe Wood.
Very romantic, picnics are. And I shall speak to Janet on the subject.
No doubt she will have some ideas as well.
She was once a new bride herself after all. ”
“Well”—the colonel rattled the letter in the air once more—“time to go and share the good news with the rest of the family.”
After he left, Stephen and Sophie remained where they were, both facing the door but not speaking.
The long-case clock ticked, ticked, ticked. Finally he said quietly, “I’m sorry.”
He felt her gaze fly to his profile. “Why should you be sorry? It wasn’t your doing. That is . . . I am not in such a hurry to be rid of you.”
He sent her a wry glance. “No? I am glad to hear it.” He drew himself up. “So . . . a picnic, hmm? That doesn’t sound like such hard duty. Do you think we can manage it?”
She nodded. “I do. Shall we invite your sister to join us?”
His pleasure dimmed. “If you like. Miss Blake and even Keith might enjoy such an outing. And the free food, of course.” He forced a grin.
She must have seen through him. “If you’d rather it be just the two of us, I don’t mind. I simply thought . . . so much food and preparation for only one couple . . .”
“Yes, I agree. There is safety in numbers, after all.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“It’s all right, little rabbit. I understand.”
At dinner that evening, Mr. Overtree beamed at them both. “I hear we are to have the pleasure of your company for longer than expected, Stephen. What happy news. And no doubt you rejoice as well, Sophie.”
“I . . . Yes, of course. I am all astonishment.”
Mrs. Overtree watched her reaction, then turned to her son. “Your grandfather mentioned a picnic, among other things. Just name the day and I shall have Mrs. Hill make arrangements with Cook and the servants.”
“A picnic, my dear?” Mr. Overtree’s eyes brightened. “Perhaps we should go along. Heavens, when was the last time you and I went on a picnic?”
“I’m sure Stephen doesn’t want his parents chaperoning their outing.”
“You would be very welcome,” Sophie said. “In fact we were thinking of asking Kate and Miss Blake. And perhaps Mr. Keith might like to come along.”
“I adore picnics,” Kate enthused. “And I’m sure Angela would like to join us. What about you, Mr. Keith?”
“I think a basket of Mrs. John’s pies beneath a tree sounds just the thing. A bottle of claret wouldn’t go amiss either.”
“A picnic is all very well.” Mrs. Overtree nodded and drew back her shoulders. “But I have decided that since we have another fortnight before Stephen rejoins his regiment, we shall also host a dinner, in place of the neglected wedding breakfast, to congratulate the newly married couple.”
“Thank you, Mamma. But that is not necessary,” Captain Overtree said.
“You know I am not keen on large parties, and Sophie would be quite overwhelmed. It is kind of you to offer, but I see no need to go to all the expense and trouble to pull off such an event in a couple weeks’ time. No Mamma. Thank you, but no.”
Her eyes sparked. “I was not asking your permission, Stephen. In fact, the wheels are already in motion. You needn’t make a speech if you don’t like, but you cannot deny our friends and neighbors the opportunity to meet your wife, and to wish you well before you leave us again for who knows how long.
You are the first of our offspring to marry though, Lord willing, not the last. You must allow us to acknowledge the event.
Do you want everyone to think we are not proud and happy about your marriage? ”
He held his mother’s challenging gaze a moment, and Sophie feared he might continue to argue. Beneath the table, Sophie reached over and gave his arm a gentle squeeze.
He cleared his throat. “Well, I . . . suppose a dinner would be harmless.”
“Can we have dancing, Mamma?” Kate asked eagerly. “I’ve had all those lessons and have never been to a real ball. Please, Mamma, can we?”
“Now, Kate. No one said anything about a ball,” Captain Overtree protested.
Kate turned to her. “You do like to dance, Sophie. Say you do?”
“Well, I . . .” She glanced at Captain Overtree’s scowl, then away. “I don’t dislike it.”
“Have you never been to a ball either?”
“Oh, I have danced in the Bath assembly rooms several times.”
“The Bath assembly rooms . . .” Kate breathed. “Is it as marvelous as they say? Crystal chandeliers, fashionable ladies and gentlemen by the score, presided over by a dour master of ceremonies?”
“Yes, all of that. But such a crush it is difficult to move, let alone dance. Especially at the height of the Bath season.”
“Please, Mamma, we must have dancing,” Kate said. “For Sophie.”
Sophie shot another nervous glance at her husband. “It isn’t up to me, Kate. I would be more than content with whatever your mother thinks best.”
“Well, there’s no harm in a few dances after dinner,” Mrs. Overtree decided. “Those who wish to dance may, and those that don’t may sit down to tea and coffee, or cards.”
“Shall we have musicians, Mamma? We have that dusty old gallery that no one ever uses.”
“I don’t know that we need to hire musicians for a few country dances, Katherine. Perhaps you girls might take turns at the pianoforte.”
“No, Mamma, please. Then we shan’t be able to dance.”
“I am afraid I don’t play,” Sophie quietly admitted.
“No? What a pity.”