Chapter 31
Sophie remained in her room that night, not going down to dinner. She was too mortified to face them all, and too upset to eat. Libby brought her a light supper, but Sophie only picked at it.
Her mind still reeled from that awful scene with the Overtrees and from learning that Wesley had sent a letter to Stephen, telling him she and Wesley still loved each other.
What else had he written? Had he intimated she regretted marrying him?
Preferred to be with his brother? Her stomach twisted at the thought.
Sophie laid a hand on her uneasy abdomen, feeling a kick in reply. “I’m so sorry, little one,” she whispered. “I have made a mess of everything.” Oh, God, please forgive me. Please bring something good out of all this bad.
The next morning Sophie wrote a letter of her own. Then she counted the days it would take to reach Lynmouth, and how many for a reply to arrive. In the meantime, she stayed to her bedchamber as much as possible—having meals sent up on a tray and venturing down only when the post arrived.
Kate came by to check on her, concerned and curious, but Sophie simply claimed fatigue. She was certainly weary. Soul sick too.
At least Kate brought with her one piece of good news.
Mrs. Overtree had given in to her daughter’s pleas and relented, allowing the kittens to remain in the house until they were weaned.
After that, Kate and Miss Blake would try to find homes for them all.
They had asked Mr. Harrison to help them when the time came, and he’d agreed.
But for now, Kate, Winnie, and even Miss Blake would enjoy Gulliver’s offspring while they could.
One morning, Kate and Angela stopped by and invited Sophie to go upstairs with them to play with the kittens, but Sophie declined. She wanted to be on hand when the post arrived.
She went down to the hall at the usual time that afternoon. But instead of entering with a silver tray of letters, the butler entered with an announcement. “A Mrs. Thrupton to see you in the morning room, madam. If you are at home to callers?”
Her heart leapt. “Of course I am. Thank you, Thurman.”
Sophie hurried in to the morning room. “Mavis! I am so happy to see you.” Tears filled Sophie’s eyes and her face crumpled.
“Oh, my dear!” In a moment the dear woman’s ample arms were around her, gathering her close to her soft bosom, and surrounding Sophie with the familiar smells of rosewater and freshly baked bread. “I came as soon as I got your letter.”
Somehow her comforting presence made Sophie cry all the more. Her throat tightened and she struggled to speak. “His parents are so angry. And Wesley’s pressuring me. And Captain Overtree won’t answer my letters. Everything’s ruined. Everything.”
“There, there, my dear. We will work out what’s best to be done. Come and sit down.”
Sophie did so, telling the woman about Wesley’s declaration of love, his determination to be together, and to claim her child as his own.
“And the captain?”
“I don’t know. I’ve written to him, but he hasn’t responded. I’m afraid he regrets marrying me, and will regret it even more now that his parents know the child I carry is not his. How mortifying for us both, but especially for him.”
“Does he know his brother is home and repentant and . . . persuasive?”
“I mentioned he was home in my last letter. But I wasn’t sure how much I should say about his brother. Not when he’s so far away and there’s nothing he can do.”
Mavis took her hand. “Do you regret marrying the captain? Wish you’d taken your chances and waited for the painter?”
Sophie shook her head.
“What do you want to do now?”
“I don’t know—so much has happened. I’m tired, Mrs. Thrupton. Tired of pretending. Tired of worrying. Tired of being pressured. I just want to sleep for a month. I worry what all this anxiety is doing to my baby.”
Mavis patted her hand. “I’m sure your baby is perfectly well.
I know that some folks say a mother’s character and worries and cravings are passed on to the child she carries, but I think it’s a great pile of claptrap.
But so much anxiety isn’t good for anyone, my dear.
That is true. I hate to see you so unhappy. ”
“I fear what Wesley will do when the child comes. And then what the captain will do to him when he returns. If he returns. Will his parents even acknowledge their grandchild?”
“They should. And if it had to be another man’s child, at least he is still of the family line. They ought to be happy he’s an Overtree in blood as well as name.”
“They are not happy at all.”
Mrs. Thrupton took her hand, gazing steadily into her face. “I can’t tell you what to do, Sophie. But I’ll support you, whatever you decide.”
“Thank you.” Sophie inhaled deeply. “All I know for certain is that I don’t want to have my child here.
Among a family I don’t feel I really belong to—who seem more like disapproving strangers now than when I first arrived.
Don’t mistake me. I am fond of the grandfather and sister.
And I cannot blame their parents for being disappointed and upset, but I can’t abide the thought of his mother being on hand during the birth.
I would be so tense, worrying every second I might do something else wrong. ”
“Do you . . . wish to go to Bath?” Mavis tentatively asked. “To your father?”
Sophie shook her head. “No. I do not wish to be beholden to my stepmother, who has made it plain she doesn’t have room for my child.”
“You know you are welcome to come home with me, if you like,” Mavis said. “I hope that goes without saying. Though I don’t flatter myself you’d be eager to leave all this for my snug cottage.”
Sophie’s heart lightened. “At the moment, I can think of nothing better! There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. But I don’t want to be too much trouble.”
“Nonsense, my girl. I will be with you when your time comes. And Widow Paisley. And we can send for Dr. Parrish if need be. You’ll be well looked after.”
Relief washed over Sophie. And she smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks.
“Thank you! You are a godsend.” Sophie bit her lip as she considered.
“The Overtrees won’t like me leaving this near my lying-in.
And Wesley could make things difficult. So I’d like to keep it quiet for now, if you don’t mind.
I will tell them as I am leaving, or leave a note.
But I prefer to avoid a drawn-out farewell.
You must think me a terrible coward, but I cannot face another heated confrontation right now. My emotions are too frayed as it is.”
“That’s what pregnancy does to women. . . .” Mavis hesitated, then added, “Or so I understand. Strains our emotions as well as our bodies. But yes, at least leave a note so they don’t worry.”
Sophie nodded in agreement. Through the doorway, she noticed Kate and Miss Blake walk by, wearing aprons and bonnets, flower baskets and gardening shears in hand. Miss Blake glanced in, but Kate chatted on as she passed, unaware.
Once they had gone, Sophie continued in a lower voice, “May I meet you at the Wickbury coaching inn tomorrow? Have you enough money for the night? I will pay you back—the captain left money for any unforeseen needs that arose while he was away.”
“Never you mind. I can manage. Might it be better if I hire a gig and pick you up here? A woman in your condition ought not carry a valise nor walk such a distance, especially alone.”
“No, thank you. I’ll be all right,” Sophie assured her.
She did not want horse hooves and carriage wheels crunching up the drive and announcing her departure.
She doubted Mr. and Mrs. Overtree would put up much fuss.
Probably bid her farewell and good riddance.
But the colonel and Kate? Not to mention Wesley, with his impulsive, passionate nature?
She dreaded a confrontation in front of the servants, and in the hearing of the vicar and any passersby.
“Very well, I will wait for you,” Mavis said. “The coach leaves at eleven.”
Fortunately, Kate remained occupied with Miss Blake, and Wesley in his own studio.
So Sophie felt at liberty to quietly begin gathering her things—her knitting from the morning room, her sketchbook, the brushes Captain Overtree had picked out for her.
Then she surreptitiously returned the novel and necklace Kate had lent her.
She packed only her personal belongings and as few of the garments given her by Mrs. Overtree as possible.
She shut the valise she’d come with and slid it under the bed, in case any housemaid—or Kate—should pop in. Then she sat down to write three difficult letters.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Overtree,
I have decided to take my leave of Overtree Hall and have my child in peace and among friends.
I am sorry I caused strife among your family.
I do appreciate your many kindnesses and generous hospitality while I remained under your roof, but I have no wish to fuel further tension.
I am not leaving to be with Wesley, I promise you.
As I’m sure you do, I think it would be best if he married a gentlewoman of excellent character from the best family. And the sooner the better.
Wesley has made some harsh accusations against Stephen about his method and motives for marrying me. But in my heart of hearts, I believe Captain Overtree married me with the best and noblest of intentions.