Chapter 23 #2
To distract herself, Sophie asked Kate to play a game of draughts while they waited, but for once Kate, who adored the game, demurred. Silence fell on the parlour, punctuated by the spring rain specking against the windows.
Finally Kate burst out, “Oh, do tell her, Sophie. Before the men come in and mix our company.”
Mrs. Overtree looked up. “Mix our . . . ? What are you talking about, Katherine? Tell me what?”
Kate looked at her for approval, and Sophie gave a little nod.
Kate turned to her mother, all suppressed glee and dimples ready to burst. “Mamma, Sophie is going to have a baby! Isn’t that wonderful news?”
Mrs. Overtree directed a raised-brow gaze toward Sophie. “Is she indeed?”
Again, Sophie nodded.
“Well then. We must ask Dr. Matthews to call.”
“Sophie expects the child in late autumn,” Kate added.
Mrs. Overtree’s brows rose even higher. “So soon?”
Sophie felt her cheeks heat but told herself to remain calm. Squirming and blushing and looking ashamed would only make things worse. She reminded herself that she was a married woman after all.
She forced herself to hold her mother-in-law’s gaze, but her disobedient cheeks heated all the more. She could think of nothing to say beyond, “We’ve known or at least suspected for some time.”
“Stephen knows?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I am surprised he did not tell us. You should be seen by a doctor as soon as may be.”
“Doctor? Who needs a doctor?” Mr. Overtree asked as he stepped into the room, the colonel and Wesley following behind.
“My dear, Sophie is expecting a child,” Mrs. Overtree said. “I am sorry to raise the feminine subject, but as you’ve overheard . . .”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind your proprieties, my dear. I’m to be a grandfather! That’s excellent news. Though I must say I feel altogether too young to be married to a grandmother.” He winked at Sophie.
“And what about me? I shall be a great-grandfather.” The colonel turned to Wesley. “Is that not good news, my boy?”
“I am all astonishment,” Wesley said flatly.
“You’re to be an uncle. What do you think of that?”
“I think it . . . extremely ironic.”
“What—that Stephen beat you to it? Your fault for dragging your feet and avoiding all attempts to lure you into matrimony.” The colonel smiled at Sophie. “When’s the great day to be?”
The estimate was repeated.
“Good heavens! Someone wasted no time!”
A moment of awkward silence passed in which Sophie imagined each of them was counting the months backward. She twisted her hands and looked at Wesley. He gazed back at her, brown eyes wide and beseeching.
“There, there, my dear.” The colonel patted her hand. “No need to be embarrassed. Not the first to put the cart before the horse. That’s the passionate family nature for you. Can’t blame the boy.”
Cheeks burning, she stole another glance at Wesley. He was looking heavenward as if for self-control, hands fisted at his sides.
Mrs. Overtree’s gaze flickered from him to Sophie, taking in his fists and her red face. Her eyes narrowed. Did she suspect Stephen was not the “boy” to blame?
Sophie forced a smile. Oh, how she wished Stephen was at her side.
The family physician was sent for and arrived the following afternoon. Mrs. Overtree offered to stay with her since she was unfamiliar with the man, but Sophie assured her mother-in-law she would be all right on her own.
The kind, elderly doctor examined her in her bedchamber. He confirmed Sophie’s condition, her good health, and an approximate due date even earlier than Sophie had expected.
Flushing from the examination itself and unable to meet the man’s eyes, Sophie said quietly, “I’ve told the family late autumn. Captain Overtree and I were only married in March.”
“Ah,” Dr. Matthews said with a nod of understanding. “Well, don’t worry. These predictions of mine are not exact science. Late autumn it is. Children often come ahead of schedule.” He smiled. “Especially a child born in the first year of a marriage.”
A few days later, Miss Blake joined them for an early dinner after church, and afterward lingered over a game of draughts with Kate, while Mr. Keith played the pianoforte.
Although he primarily played only the melody, he had become remarkably adept with one hand.
It was a pleasure to hear him. Sophie sat nearby with her sketchbook and attempted to draw his profile.
Wesley absented himself from their little party. He had invited Sophie to go with him to pay a call on Lord Thorp. She thanked him, but explained she had already been to Langton.
“When was this?” he asked in surprise.
“The captain took me to meet him. He thought I would enjoy seeing his collection.”
“How jolly thoughtful of him,” he grumbled.
“Lord Thorp showed us the two pieces of yours he has on display. We . . . did not, em, explain your . . . connection with the subject of the portrait.”
“Ah.” Wesley nodded in understanding. Then he excused himself to pay a call on Lord Thorp alone.
After he left, Sophie tried to concentrate on her drawing but felt distracted, managing little more than shapes and idle sketches.
She wished she knew how to knit. That would give her hands something to do, and help her prepare for the child to come.
But she hesitated to attempt it in front of Wesley.
She did not wish to pour salt on his wound.
Kate moved one of her pieces, then asked, “Angela. Have you heard our news? Sophie is to have a child.”
The woman stilled, white king midair, and turned to look at Sophie, a strange, bleak light in her eyes. She exhaled on a sigh. “Of course she is.”
Kate looked at her in confusion. Seeing it, Miss Blake summoned a smile and added, “She is married to an Overtree and will now bear an Overtree child to the praise and happiness of the entire family. How perfect for her. Why, we will have no end of celebrations and christenings and the knitting of little booties. . . .”
Sophie glanced at Mr. Keith. Seeing him apparently absorbed in his playing and paying their conversation no heed, she asked softly, “Do you not like children, Miss Blake?”
“Like them? Everyone likes them. Welcomes them with open arms. That is, if they come at the correct time. To properly married people.”
Sophie stared at the woman, stunned. Did she know Sophie’s secret? Had she guessed?
Kate’s eyes widened. “I am sorry, Angela. I did not intend to raise a sad subject.”
“Why should it be a sad subject?” Miss Blake’s eyes flashed, but Sophie thought she saw tears there too.
Kate added gently, “I know you wish you might have married before now and had a child of your own.”
Miss Blake scoffed. “I entertain no such wish, I assure you.”
“But why?” Sophie blurted. “You are beautiful and accomplished and from a well-connected family. You might marry any man you like.”
Angela turned and narrowed her eyes at Sophie, perhaps weighing the sincerity of her words. “Not everyone gets to marry the man of their dreams, Mrs. Overtree. As you should know.”
Sophie blinked back at the woman, afraid to ask what she meant. Not certain she wanted Kate to hear the answer she feared she might receive. Instead, Sophie asked, “Do you mean because of your age? You cannot be much more than five and twenty.”
Lieutenant Keith stopped playing, Sophie noticed, and soberly awaited the woman’s answer.
Miss Blake fidgeted and crossed her arms. “No, that is not what I mean. But let’s leave the tiresome subject. I have no intention of marrying anyone.”
“But you told me you once thought you would,” Kate said plaintively.
“That was in the past, Kate. There was someone I once hoped to marry, but it amounted to nothing. And that’s an end of it. Now.” She rose in agitation. “Who wishes to challenge me in another game of battledore and shuttlecock—or perhaps archery? I need to shoot something.”
Wesley rode back from Langton, feeling both gratified and frustrated.
Gratified to see his work valued and displayed among the greats.
Frustrated to look upon the image of Sophie, to have all the memories the painting evoked come rushing back, and not be able to acknowledge what she meant to him. What they’d had together.
His mind remembered. His body remembered. And it was dashed difficult to look at her as a sister. To treat her as his brother’s wife. Especially when she carried his child.
Did that not trump everything?
He did not wish to cause a scene or create a scandal, to shame her or his parents.
But to sit by and do nothing while she presented his child to the world as his brother’s?
Intolerable. It was beyond his strength.
How would he manage it? Especially since Marsh had not even given him the chance to object to their marriage, or to do the right thing himself.
Anger surged through him at the thought.
He longed to confront Captain Black in person—give him a piece of his mind.
But since he wasn’t there, Wesley decided he would write a letter to that effect.
When Wesley got home, he did so. Then he went looking for Sophie, steering clear of the parlour where he heard Kate and Miss Blake chatting within.
He slipped up the stairs and gave a cursory look through her bedchamber door.
Empty. He continued up to the old schoolroom, where he’d guessed she’d be.
Sure enough, she sat at her easel working on that dashed portrait of Captain Black in uniform.
Her palette held shades of red with black and white for light and shadow.
“Sophie.”
She turned and looked at him over her shoulder. She must have seen in his expression some of what he was feeling, because she rose and turned to face him, setting her jaw.
He made up his mind—he was going to kiss her. And if he ended up with a slap for his trouble, so be it. He shut the door and strode toward her.