Miss Sophie's Secret (8 page)

“I shall bid you good day, now that I have delivered my best wishes and welcomed you to town.” He gave her a radiant smile, then bowed with equal cordiality to each of the ladies.

If he had hoped to be detained by gracious urgings, he was disappointed. While the others kept their gazes downcast, Lady Biskup nodded brusquely and said, “Good day, sir.”

With a sigh and a nod to them all, Albert departed.

“Well, the poor young man,” Lady Englewood breathed. “I’m sure I cannot bear to see him so pulled down.”

“Poor young man, nonsense!’ Lady Biskup sniffed. “I’ve never heard such utter fustian in my life! Let us face the facts. He cuts us, and now he is sorry. A more conniving and false-hearted creature, I cannot imagine—”

“But he is so delightfully handsome,” Lady Englewood mourned. “He has a smile like an angel.” She turned to her daughter and wagged a finger at her. “Now, Jeanette, I must warn you. You are not to fall in love with him, do you understand me? I shall not have you saddle yourself with a pauper and a musty old castle full of mold and mildew, no matter how comely its lord might be.”

“Don’t worry, Mama,” Jeanette assured her. “I have no intention of doing so.”

When Lady Biskup made her way downstairs that evening, resplendent in a gold satin gown, diamond tiara, and claret velvet opera cloak, she was pleased to find Jonathan awaiting her arrival on a brocade sofa in the grand salon. He was dressed in the black satin coat and knee breeches that had replaced the colorful formal attire of Ruth’s youth, with the only break in severity being a starched white cravat. As he rose to greet her, it occurred to her that although he had been a rather plain boy, he had grown into a handsome man, lean and long-legged, with a hint of humor lying always behind his dark eyes. He nodded toward her now, smiling.

“So, Aunt Ruth,” he began, “we have received Albert de Lisle’s initial sortie and have successfully repulsed it, I understand.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Have we, indeed? I wonder. That is, I am unsure of his effect on Sophie. Does she accept his nonsensical tale? His delivery was so false and theatrical, I cannot believe that anyone with an ounce of sense . . . But Sophie is such a kindhearted little thing, I fear she may have swallowed his farradiddle and become re-enamored of him, which I cannot like.”

“Nor I,” he said. “However, if she truly loves him . . . Though I will not face that possibility as yet.”

“I’d have been able to expose his villainy for all to see,” Lady Biskup continued, scowling at the memory, “if Blanche—that ninnyhammer—had not been taken in by his rhetoric. And, Jonathan, we have another thorn in our side. This silly creature is in high fidgets at the thought that you might attempt to wrench Jeanette from Fairmont’s loving arms. Will you?”

He cocked a quizzical brow at her. “Wrench? Certainly not! What are Jeanette’s feelings in this matter?”

“She says that she does not love him.”

Jonathan sighed. “But Fairmont loves her—there can be no doubt about that. He speaks of nothing else, poor Roger.”

“Blanche is quite determined that Jeanette shall marry him. The girl nearly wept when her mother chided her for hanging back.”

Jonathan tapped a thoughtful finger upon his smooth-shaven chin. “Perhaps she is in love with someone else.”

“Well, that is possible. In fact, I am under the impression that she is. I wonder who it could be. You don’t suppose it’s that odious Albert de Lisle?”

“Good God! I hope not!” His mouth tightened at one corner. “No one could possibly find a sweeter, gentler, more beautiful wife than Jeanette.”

“What?” called a voice from the hallway. “Are you speaking of Jeanette? Please wait until I’m with you before you continue.”

Sophie fluttered into the room, a black velvet opera cloak thrown over her simple white gown, and her eyes shining with excitement.

“What were you saying about Jeanette?” she asked.

“Jonathan was saying that she is the sweetest, gentlest and . . . what was it you said, my dear, most beautiful wife a man could wish for?”

Sophie was silent for a moment, her lips pressed tightly together. Then she smiled. “It is true. And if you wish to make her your own, Jonathan, you shall have her, despite Lady Englewood’s insistence that she marry Fairmont. Certainly Jeanette would be happier with a man of your temperament than with a cold, unfeeling stick such as Lord Fairmont.”

“Wait,” he protested. “Fairmont is not a stick. Neither is he cold and unfeeling. He would make Jeanette an excellent, compassionate husband, I have no doubt And, Sophie, please do not attempt to promote a match between Jeanette and me. Nothing but misery will result if you interfere with nature’s plan.”

She bit her lower lip and then opened her mouth. But before she could speak, he added, “You spoke to Albert today. What was your opinion of him?”

Sophie looked up at Jonathan, her huge brown eyes shining with confused emotions. “I thought . . . that is, I should not wish to be labeled cynical or quick to censor, but . . . Well, I fear that I doubted his words.” Sighing, she shook her head. “That is, if not doubted exactly, I wondered if he were completely sincere. Or if sincere, was he, perhaps, coloring his memory in order to recall what he wished to believe true, rather than what was actually true?”

Jonathan nodded solemnly.

“Either case is as bad as the other,” Lady Biskup pointed out. “What is the difference between outright lies and lies which someone believes to be true?”

“No difference,” Sophie agreed.

Jonathan fastened his cloak at his throat and assisted Sophie in fastening hers. “We’ll put it out of our minds and give ourselves up wholly to the enjoyment of the play we are about to attend.”

“Yes,” Sophie said, smiling. “And to the enjoyment of our friends. Jeanette will be there. And Fairmont, and Fairmont’s mother, and . . . I wonder who else.”

The party that awaited them in the Englewood box at the theater was hosted by the baron and baroness. Lady Biskup clasped her brother’s hand with a display of affection that was normally foreign to her nature. In return, Lord Englewood planted a quick kiss upon her brow. 

The Englewoods’ guests included Fairmont and his mother, Jeanette, Nicky, and one of the young ladies who had accompanied Lady Englewood to Madame Young’s that morning—the pretty little brunette. She was dressed in a simple white gown that was almost identical to Sophie’s, and had their hair not been arranged in two strikingly different modes, they could have been mistaken for sisters.

Nicky laughed brightly, “Look here, Ellen,” he said, taking Sophie by the hand and turning her first one way and then another. “You look enough alike to be sisters. You must get to know each other better. Sophie Althorpe, Ellen Joysey.”

Ellen smiled warmly at Sophie. “I have always wanted a sister, and you shall be she.”

Sophie nodded. “I have always wanted a sister, too. From now on, let it be so.”

Turning slowly to survey the other members of the party, Sophie noted that Jonathan, who was talking to Jeanette and Fairmont, was also watching them curiously.

“What are you buzzing about?” he asked her.

Sophie took Ellen’s hand and led her over to him. “Have you met Ellen Joysey? We are going to be sisters, henceforth.”

“You are a pair, to be sure,” he agreed.

The dowager countess Fairmont, a tiny round woman with a three-foot-tall headdress of black ostrich plumes and a throbbing bass voice, was the first to take her seat.

That was the signal for everyone to settle into his place. And while Fairmont and Jonathan attempted to arrange the seats in pairs, Nicky moved them in such a way that Sophie was on one side of him and Ellen on the other. Jonathan promptly scolded him and moved Sophie’s chair alongside the one in which he intended to sit. But Lady Englewood stepped into the fray and somehow managed to shuffle everyone so that Jonathan was sitting with Ellen and Nicky was sitting with Sophie.

“There,” she said in a satisfied tone, “now everyone will have a delightful time.”

“No,” Jonathan said, rising and moving the girls again, “Nicky will never forgive me if I lure Ellen away from him, and I have many things I must ask Sophie about Vaile Priory. It has been so long since I visited there.”

Lady Englewood would have protested, but her husband, who had been huddled with Lady Biskup—their heads close together as they talked in low, urgent voices—reached out a hand and drew her down onto a chair beside him.

“Please, my love,” he said. “The curtain is about to rise.”

With a resigned sigh Lady Englewood accepted defeat, although she turned one final time toward Jonathan and gave him a scalding look.

When everyone was settled into his proper place, Sophie found herself against the wall of the box. She began to examine the construction of the elaborate little stall and soon discovered that there was a way of parting the swags of velour that covered the plaster partitions. When she moved the curtain, she revealed a peep hole in the wall beside her.

Curiosity overcame her and she put her eyes to the opening. To her surprise a pair of eyes was looking back at her. With a squeak she retreated.

Jonathan put a hand on her arm. “What are you up to, Sophie?”

She made an unhappy face. “I have done the most shatterbrained thing! I have peeked through the wall and been discovered.”

He grunted and leaned over to part the curtains and look through the gap.

“Zounds, Ferguson, is that you?” he said. “How delightful to see you again. I’ll join you during the interval and meet your friends, if I may.”

Jonathan leaned close to Sophie, his brows drawn together. “You’re not going to be continually getting into scrapes, are you, Sophie? I’d hate to think I’ll be obliged to spend all my time pulling you out.”

She shuddered. “I certainly hope not!”

At that same moment the theater darkened.

Sophie felt her breath growing shallow, and the audience began making low rustling sounds in anticipation of the treat that was about to be laid before them.

The offering was not a new piece as Jeanette had indicated, but
Richard III
, in which the great Edmund Kean played the title role. The curtain opened to reveal him coiled against the stone wall of a castle, musing.

“Now is the winter of our discontent . . .” he began in such urgent tones that shivers ran through the auditorium.

Sinking under Kean’s spell, Sophie leaned against Jonathan’s shoulder. He took her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze, and held it for a time. They sat that way until the curtain descended on the first interval.

“Oh, Jonathan,” she breathed. “It is the most thrilling . . . I had no idea the theater was such a spellbinding . . . how shall I say it? It is the most marvelous thing!”

“Yes, indeed,” he said, putting a hand under her elbow and raising her to her feet. “Come along now, and I’ll introduce you to our friends in the next box.”

He tucked her hand through his arm. Before he could lead her out through the door in pursuit of Jeanette and Fairmont, however, Lady Englewood rushed to their side and put a restraining hand on Jonathan’s shoulder.

“No, no,” she protested. “You must not go out. Come sit here with Nicky and Ellen. You must become better acquainted.”

“Let them go, Mama,” Nicky said, waving a hand. “Ellen and I are discussing chess, and Sophie is such a feather-headed little thing, I’d wager she does not have the wits for the game.”

“Indeed, sir!” Sophie retorted, bristling. “I played chess for many years with Lord Reginald, and he declared many times that I have the wits of a poacher and the nerve of a buccaneer.”

“Is that so?” he said. “Sorry.”

“Yes, you see, my boy?” his mother scolded. “You must not blurt out these unflattering . . .”

Without further ado, Jonathan quickly maneuvered Sophie out the door into the corridor. Jeanette and Fairmont were moving together some distance ahead of them. They made an elegant pair, Sophie thought, both tall and stately. Jeanette glanced around once, as though looking for someone, and Sophie was gratified to see her expression change at the sight of them. She smiled.

“How nice,” she murmured. “She is glad to see that I am following her. It is the happiest thing to be reunited with Jeanette after all these years.”

They were approaching the door of the adjoining box when it opened and its occupants began to emerge. Sophie was surprised to discover that she could identify the young man whose eyes she had ogled through the wall. He was tall and slender—though not so tall as Jonathan—and glowingly blond, with shining locks, wide, innocent gray eyes and dimples. Without a doubt he was the most beautiful young man she had ever seen. Even handsomer than Albert de Lisle, she decided.

He came forward eagerly, smiling at her. On his arm was the little round girl who had been with Lady Englewood’s party that morning.

“Ah, Ferguson,” Jonathan said, extending his hand. “And Miss Kathleen Bingham, your most obedient. You must allow me to introduce my cousin, Sophie Althorpe.”

Miss Kathleen looked startled. “Althorpe? Is she not then related to Lady Englewood?”

“Her niece,” he explained. When Miss Kathleen’s eyebrows rose still farther, he continued. “Ah, well, there is no explaining Lady Englewood’s behavior at times.”

Ferguson was still smiling at Sophie.

“Allow me to present you, old man,” Jonathan said. “Sophie, this is Trevor Ferguson, an excellent chap.”

At that moment the equine young woman from Lady Englewood’s shopping expedition strolled leisurely out of the box. She was wearing an austere gray gown and a single strand of enormous, cool, clear diamonds at her throat. Sophie wondered how it was possible for anyone to look so imperious without a crown on her head.

She was on the arm of a cross little man whose pinched nose and rumpled brow gave him the look of a petulant gnome.

“Ah, Miss Elizabeth Bingham,” Jonathan said. “And Wellstone. My cousin, Sophie Althorpe.”

Miss Elizabeth nodded grandly while Miss Kathleen moved closer to Sophie, giving her a warm smile that was marred by a great many crooked teeth.