Chapter 35
The following week, Stephen and his wife and daughter traveled to Overtree Hall in a hired chaise.
He and Sophie held hands on the bench between them, and took turns holding the baby.
Eventually, Sophie fell asleep against his good shoulder, lulled by the rocking of the carriage.
He put his arm around her and held her securely against him, while he cradled Mary in the crook of his other arm.
He felt more content than he had in his entire life.
He thought back with warm pleasure over their last several days in one of the hillside cottages, enjoying a makeshift honeymoon—thanks to Mrs. Thrupton’s help with Mary Katherine.
How he had relished sleeping with his wife curled against him when Mary slept.
Or walking the child when she fussed in the wee hours, so his lovely, exhausted wife could rest.
Stephen hoped his parents would welcome Mary Katherine more warmly and eagerly than they had initially welcomed Sophie.
And he prayed relationships would improve between his wife and his parents.
The truth was, each one of them was partly to blame, himself included.
But if they continued to condemn Sophie, he would not subject her to long or frequent periods in their company.
Her happiness was too important to him. If necessary, they would visit now and again, but live in Lynmouth the rest of the time.
At least until he recovered enough to return to duty.
How he dreaded the prospect. He did not wish to leave his wife and daughter.
And what about Wesley? Stephen wondered.
Would he remain true to his intention to step back and relinquish any claim to Mary Katherine, and be an uncle to her only, both publically and in private?
He hoped so, or visits to Overtree Hall could be more tense and stressful yet, especially as Mary Katherine grew older.
Almighty God, direct our paths, he prayed. Soften hearts. After all, you are the King of redemption and restoration.
His parents were still away at a midweek service when they arrived at Overtree Hall. Stephen was glad for a little time to settle into their room, and feed and change Mary Katherine.
“Why do you not rest a while, my love?” Stephen suggested, after she’d nursed the baby. “We can wait and go down for dinner. No doubt Thurman will tell them we have arrived.”
“I shall try to rest if you do,” she said, Mary in her arms. “But I shan’t hide in here—if you go down, so shall I.”
“I didn’t mean you should hide. The past is the past, thanks be to God.”
She smiled tenderly up at him. “And thanks to you.”
He helped her off with her pelisse, pressed an affectionate kiss to her cheek, and turned her toward the bed, shooing her toward its comforts with a gentle pat to her bottom. She put a few pillows around the sleeping Mary to keep her from rolling off the bed, then climbed in herself.
Perhaps he would join her as soon as he struggled his boots off.
He didn’t want to ring for Edgar. At the moment, he wanted only to enjoy Sophie and Mary Katherine in this room.
Their room. He found himself remembering those restless nights he had slept in the dressing room—or tried to.
More than once he had to run a cold cloth over his face and neck.
Those lonely nights were over, thank the Lord.
He remembered the first time he saw her hair down, longing to run his hands through it. To tangle his fingers in its golden strands and gently draw her near for a slow, leisurely kiss. He found his heart rate accelerating at the thought. He might need cold water from his washstand yet.
He confessed, “Do you know many nights I lay in that dressing room—tormented by the thought of you on the other side of that door, a few yards away? Wanting to go to you. To kiss you. To be welcomed into your bed?”
Sophie smiled up at him and patted the blanket beside her. He didn’t need to be asked twice.
He leaned down and kissed her. But a scratch at the door drew him upright again.
A housemaid timidly opened the door. “Sorry, sir. Ma’am. But Mrs. Hill sent me up with fresh water for your washstands.”
Had the woman read his mind? At the moment, he would not thank her for interrupting.
“Hello, Libby,” Sophie greeted. “Are you well?”
“Yes, ma’am. Welcome back, ma’am.” The housemaid delivered the water, then asked him, “Shall I send up Edgar, sir?”
“When it’s time to dress for dinner, then yes. But no hurry.”
“Very good, sir.” She bobbed a curtsy and slipped from the room.
Sophie bit back a worried grin, and whispered, “Do you think she knows what we were up to in here?”
“I don’t care if she does,” Stephen said. “We are husband and wife. It goes with the territory.”
She grinned impishly. “And very glad of it I am.”
“Why, Mrs. Overtree . . .” He leaned in for another kiss.
They went down for dinner half an hour early, taking Mary Katherine with them. As he’d hoped, the baby proved an effective diversion to ease Sophie’s return.
“Thurman told us you’d arrived and were resting or we would have insisted on meeting this little lady earlier,” his father began.
“Let me have a look at her,” the colonel said, coming closer. “A bonny lass if ever I saw one.”
His mother nodded. “Sophie is right. She does look like you, Kate.”
“May I hold her?” his sister asked, holding out her slender arms.
Stephen obliged her, gingerly transferring the child. “Careful.”
“Oh, look. She has a strawberry birthmark,” his mother observed, leaning near. “Growing up, I had a dear friend with one of these on her cheek. The boys teased her about it—until I let them know in no uncertain terms that I would not tolerate such behavior.”
“Perfectly true,” the colonel spoke up with paternal pride. “She was only nine or ten, but my daughter could lay flat any boy in the parish.”
“Woe to the man who crosses her even today.” Mr. Overtree winked and put his arm around her.
“Pish.”
“Well, Mary Katherine Overtree, you are very welcome,” the colonel said, smiling into her little face. Mary cooed in reply and made a vague swat at his rather prominent nose.
When dinner was announced, Mrs. Overtree said, “Shall I ring for Mrs. Hill, and see if she might watch Mary Katherine while we dine?”
“No need, Mamma,” Stephen said. “Winnie can do that.”
“Winnie? I don’t know that Nurse Whitney is up to the task.”
“Nonsense, Janet,” the colonel said. “She is perfectly capable. And I daresay she would enjoy nothing more.”
“Do you think so, Papa? Well, then, I shall send for her.”
“That’s all right, Mamma,” Stephen said. “I will take Mary Katherine up to her. I want to introduce her to Winnie myself.”
“I’ll go along if you don’t mind,” Sophie said. “I’d like to see her too.”
“We’ll join you for dinner as soon as we can.”
Together they climbed the stairs to the attic, as eager as two children on their way to show a beloved grandmother a new prized possession.
They knocked softly and were invited in. “My boy! And Sophie! How delighted I am to see you again.”
“Winnie, may I introduce you to someone?” He turned the bundled child toward his old nurse. “This is Mary Katherine Overtree.”
“Ah! Master Stephen! I always knew you would find your rightful place in the end. And it is working out, all of it, you shall see.”
“I already see. And I am thankful for my many blessings.”
Winnie took the child in her arms, and instead of the added weight hunching her back farther, it seemed to straighten her spine. Eyes on the precious child, she murmured, “A beautiful family. An unexpected inheritance. Blessings meant for another are still blessings.”
Stephen and Sophie shared confused looks at that cryptic remark.
Stephen cleared his throat, and began, “Then, apparently you already know that she isn’t really mi—”
“Of course she is,” Winnie snapped, eyes flashing. “And never let me hear you say otherwise. You’re not too old for my stick!”
For a moment he feared the elderly woman was losing her better sense, but then he saw the glint of humor in her eyes.
He smiled. “I won’t forget. I promise.”
“Now, that’s more like it.”
Dinner was a somewhat awkward affair, everyone on his or her best behavior trying to be polite and friendly, while avoiding potentially awkward subjects like Wesley’s involvement with Sophie, Sophie’s leaving, and Miss Blake’s revelation.
Apparently, Wesley had returned to Overtree Hall a few days before, and had gone to Windmere to speak to Miss Blake, but no more was said on the subject.
“Sophie has sold her first two paintings,” Stephen said, to break the strained silence.
Murmurs of approval rippled around the table.
“A Lynmouth landscape and a portrait to Sir Frederick Nevill himself. He declared her work most excellent. I’m no judge, of course, but I have to agree.”
Sophie ducked her head, clearly embarrassed at his praise.
Eager to divert attention, Sophie asked, “What is the news here? And where is Mr. Keith?”
His grandfather replied, “Keith has taken a former officer he met in Brussels to have him fitted for an artificial arm like his.”
Mrs. Overtree’s nose wrinkled. “Not while we’re eating, Papa.”
“Oh, Janet, why not? The man is finally doing something useful.”
“That is good news,” Stephen agreed.
“We don’t see Angela as often since . . . he left,” Kate added sadly.
But Stephen doubted Mr. Keith’s departure was the reason Angela felt less comfortable visiting Overtree Hall.
“We do see a great deal more of another neighbor though. Don’t we, Kate?” their grandfather teased, eyes twinkling.
Kate blushed, but Stephen saw her dimples appear and knew the topic pleased her.
“Oh? Might this neighbor be a certain Mr. Harrison?” Stephen asked.
Kate grinned up at him. “It might indeed.”