Chapter 3
“Might I ask you something, Christina?”
Throwing a quick look to her sister, Christina nodded, a knot tying itself in her stomach. When Sophie had invited her outside to enjoy the townhouse gardens, Christina had accepted at once, given the fine afternoon, only to now realize that Sophie meant to talk about the ball the previous evening.
And, no doubt, Christina’s reaction to Lord Coventry.
“You were upset last evening. Mother did not notice it, I do not think, and you certainly did give an admirable performance in hiding it from your expression on the whole, but I am your sister.” She smiled gently, but there was concern in her eyes. “I can tell when you are not yourself.”
“I – I was anxious,” Christina replied, sitting down on a nearby garden bench and settling her hands in her lap so she would not give any of her worry away. “It is no small thing to step out into society, especially when one has been away from it for two years.”
“I quite agree.” Sophie tipped her head to one side, her eyes still assessing. “And yet, there is more than that. It is, I think, to do with Lord Coventry.”
Christina said nothing in response to this, her breathing growing shallow as she dropped her gaze to her hands.
“I want to help, Christina. I am not here to gossip, and I assure you, I will not share this with Mama. Even if it is the very worst of things, then – ”
“I have done nothing improper, if that is what you are suggesting.” Christina’s eyebrows shot upwards as Sophie held up both hands in defense of herself. “I would never do anything to bring shame upon myself or this family.”
Sophie nodded and dropped her hands back again.
“That is not what I meant,” she said, her voice low.
“I am not here to accuse you, Christina. When I say the very worst of things, I am trying to suggest that you might have feelings for a gentleman that are not reciprocated. That is the very worst of things, for it is such a deep brokenness that it feels as if one can never escape from it.”
This made Christina frown. “I thought that Wickton loved you from the first.”
“Oh, he did – and does,” Sophie replied, with a broad smile. “However, he was not the first gentleman I fell in love with, Christina.”
The frown on Christina’s face grew. “I did not know.”
“No, you did not.” A small sigh broke from Sophie’s lips as she looked away.
“No one did, and the sorrow and anguish of his rejection of me was all the greater because I had no one to speak to about it all. My heart was quite broken, and it felt, at times, as if I could not go on. I do not want that for you, Christina.” Her eyes held fast to Christina’s, seeming to tug the truth forward, bringing it to Christina’s lips.
“I want you to have the support I did not have, knowing the relief that it will bring.”
Christina ducked her head against the sudden threat of tears. “I do not want to be a burden to anyone.”
“And you shall not be,” Sophie promised. “Please, Christina, tell me what it is about Lord Coventry that troubles you so.”
It was as if a wall that Christina had built by her own hands was suddenly and shockingly shattered.
Tears began to pour from her eyes, her shoulders rounding as great, heaving sobs shook her frame.
She did not hear Sophie’s exclamation nor see her coming towards her, but she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder as her sister embraced her as best she could.
The tears did not stop.
All of the pain and sorrow that Christina had been carrying for so long without a word to anyone came to the fore again, their strength overwhelming and the agony of it all stealing Christina’s breath.
Her sobs grew louder and more frequent, recalling the dismissive glance Lord Coventry had given her as he had come to stand beside them, the coldness of his look when she had finally been bold enough to look into his eyes.
“You have been carrying a great burden alone,” she heard Sophie say, a handkerchief now pressed into her hands so she could wipe her tears. “My dear sister, what pain you must have endured!”
Christina could only nod, wiping her eyes carefully, but still, the tears came.
Sophie waited patiently until her sobs had abated, her close presence a comfort to Christina’s heart.
It took a long time until Christina felt composed enough to speak, but Sophie did not urge her to explain or to tell her all.
Instead, she simply sat beside her, her hand on Christina’s, her expression one of sympathy and understanding.
“He told me he loved me.” Christina’s voice cracked.
“He asked me to marry him. I accepted. We kept it secret — for your sake, Sophie, while Wickton was only beginning to show interest. And then, the next afternoon, instead of coming to speak with our father, he sent a letter. Cold, flat, telling me there was nothing more between us.” She closed her eyes.
“I could not understand it. I still cannot.”
Sophie threw herself from the bench and stormed up and down the path. “That is despicable! How could he do such a thing?”
Relief poured into Christina. Her sister was deeply upset.
“You do not think this was because of your inheritance, do you?” Sophie asked, stopping abruptly.
Christina’s shoulders rounded. “I have wondered, on occasion, if he knew that I was to gain a vast sum from our grandfather upon our marriage and that this was the reason for his proposal. Perhaps then he thought the better of it or realized he was solvent enough.”
“Did he know of it?”
Closing her eyes, Christina let out a slow breath and then shook her head no.
“I did not ever speak of it. I have searched my mind, wondering if there was any other way for him to have discovered it, but there was not. It would have been a reason to cling to, an answer to hold tight to myself and soothe my heart even a little, but it cannot be so.”
Sophie shook her head and rubbed one hand at her forehead. “My dear sister, I cannot tell you of my sorrow in hearing this.” Her hand fell back to her side, and she scrutinized Christina, her eyes narrowing a fraction. “You do not believe that any of this is your fault, do you?”
Ducking her head, Christina looked down at her hands. “I believed him. I let myself trust every word. Perhaps I was foolish.”
“No, you were not.” Sophie came to sit back down again, grasping Christina’s hand and looking straight into her eyes.
“You have done nothing wrong, Christina. When a gentleman shows us particular attention, when he pulls us towards him, and when he declares that he has such a great depth of feeling within his heart, we have every cause to believe him – especially when he is a gentleman of honor. You have no reason to think poorly of yourself, I assure you.”
“But I loved him.” Christina’s eyes grew damp as she shook her head, looking down at her hands again.
“I fear that I still do, despite all that he has done, which is more than foolish, is it not? When he saw me yesterday, and when I saw him, there was such a coldness in his eyes and expression. It was a look I had never seen before, and it made me feel so very foolish. I think… I think there was still a part of me that hoped that, in seeing me, he might realize what a mistake he had made. That there might be acknowledgement of the pain he has caused, mayhap even an apology for what he did to my heart.” She shook her head and sighed.
“Instead, there was only ice in his eyes whenever he looked at me.”
“I should speak to him,” Sophie said stoutly, although Christina quickly begged her not to do so. This made Sophie sigh, and she nodded, promising she would not.
Sophie was quiet for a moment, her fingers pleating the fabric of her skirt — a habit she had when her mind was working through something.
"I will say this, however. I have been watching the gentlemen who attend you this Season, Christina.
It is a sister's prerogative." She glanced sideways.
"Lord Pennington, in particular, strikes me as a man who is performing warmth rather than feeling it.
His questions are always a fraction too specific — about our family, our arrangements, our father's estate.
I noticed it at Lady Mowsbury's and again at the Southport card party.
" She paused. "It is of a piece, I think, with the letters he sent us in the country.
Do you remember? Always so concerned, always asking after our situation with more particularity than one might expect of a distant cousin.
I used to read them aloud to Mama and find myself wondering, by the end, what exactly he wished to know.
" She sighed. "I may be wrong. But I have learned to trust what I observe over what I am told. "
“Surely not Lord Pennington, Sophie,” Christina said, though the protest came more from habit than conviction. “He has been all kindness since Father’s death — to Mama especially. You cannot mean to suggest—”
“I suggest nothing. I only ask that you watch him, when next he calls, and tell me what you see then.” Sophie’s voice softened. “I may be wrong, as I said. But I will not be at ease until I have looked again.”
For a moment neither of them spoke. Then Sophie pressed Christina’s hand and seemed to set the thought aside, drawing herself back to the nearer grief.
“But Coventry —” Her voice firmed. “I want him to know just how much pain he has brought you. He should be punished for what he has done.”
Christina gave her a wobbly smile.
“Perhaps,” Christina agreed, softly, “but there is nothing to be done.”
Sophie’s lips twisted. “I wish you had told me, Christina.”
“I did not want anything to mar your happiness,” Christina replied, honestly. “I could not have let myself bring a shadow to your joy.”
“But you have had so much to carry alone,” Sophie said, gently. “And with the loss of our dear father, that pain must have been all the greater.”