My Dear Sophy (12 page)

Sophy could see the pride in his mother's eyes and the captain seemed delighted to entertain her especially. She had once or twice interjected a question about sailors she knew from his letters. Someone named O'Brian was recalled a number of times and seemed to play a part in every story the captain told.

The Reverend also beamed with pride. He laughed heartily and listened intently, soaking in his son's words like water to a dry ground. At one point, it had struck Sophy quite forcefully that the Crofts had not seen their son in this home for fourteen years. How would it be, Sophy wondered, to have a child, to raise him and love him, and then to say goodbye to him, knowing each time could be the last time you would set eyes on him. Sophy hadn't lingered on that thought, as it threatened to throw her into a melancholy spirit.

Instead, she had gone back to observing the child and parents together. And the sight seemed designed especially to lift her spirits. They were so easy with each other, as if no time at all had passed since their last meeting. Their good nature and good humor toward life enveloped all around them in a general blanket of goodwill and contentment. And Sophy couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so heartily and sincerely. It seemed to be contagious around the table.

As she was having such a splendid time, it was a shock to find that luncheon was over and that the Wentworths faced leaving the merry gathering. Sophy found herself falling out of temper at the thought. What was waiting at home for them? Only a subdued afternoon in each other's company. But it was inevitable that they leave. They could not very well intrude all afternoon on the Croft's happy reunion. Sophy watched as the last dishes were cleared away and they prepared to go.

* * *

Miss Wentworth was getting up to leave and Connie felt oddly distressed at the prospect. Dinner was over and there had been no expectation that the Wentworths would stay for the afternoon, but still the time seemed to have run too short. And he had learned nothing more about her. He'd had no time to talk with her on her own. He'd only told stories of himself to amuse to his parents and the guests. But he had been persuaded to talk too much and now the time had been wasted. With an uncharacteristic sense of urgency, Connie leaned toward his father and asked if he would mind terribly if their guests were invited to stay. Instead of answering his son, the rector spoke aloud.

“
My dear Wentworths, would you be amenable to staying for the afternoon? We could use the company. My son's stories fare much better with a bigger audience.” The rector smiled at his guests.

The boys looked enthusiastically to their father. They had listened as only young men could to the tales Connie had spun of his adventures across the world. Connie smiled to himself at the thought of their rapt attention throughout the meal. He remembered being a young man of their age. To a young man who'd lived his whole life in Milverton, tales of adventure seemed exotic, a chance to live vicariously through someone else. Even the boys aboard his ship could sit rapt for hours, asking the older sailors for story after story of the seafaring life and tall tales of the sea. Sailors learned early how to spin yarns. Often it had been their only form of amusement on the
Pleasant
.

Connie knew that Edward and Freddy would talk of nothing else for weeks after he left. But for now they had convinced their father to stay for the afternoon. They did not have to push him too hard. The doctor seemed to be enjoying himself as much as his sons were. And Miss Wentworth... Connie sneaked a shy look at her. Her mouth had quirked into a lopsided smile that seemed to show she was also pleased at the prospect of an afternoon in company with the Crofts. His father had spoken of blessings this morning and here was one. Connie had been given the gift of the afternoon, and he must make the most of it.

Miss Wentworth had entirely intrigued him with her easy conversation – when she spoke – and guileless manners. This morning he had tried his best to concentrate on the well-meaning parishioners wishing him happy and welcoming him back home after so many years. But his eye had continually wandered to where Miss Wentworth was standing, surrounded by her own group of well-wishers. Connie had found himself wondering what she was saying to the people who flocked around her. He wanted to know what made her bend her head together with the ladies and what made her laugh or look serious.

From observing her in the churchyard, Connie had seen that Sophy listened. To everyone she met, she listened with her whole attention, but she volunteered very little of her own conversation. He had seen how the townspeople had been around her. But she talked only in answer to their inquiries, parceling out her words to achieve the most impact with the least effort. When she spoke, her companions listened.

The trouble – as Connie had discovered during their too short luncheon – was that she rarely spoke first. There was an inwardness about her. Though Sophy was
in
the crowd, she was not of it. What would she say if he could get her to speak freely? The question had plagued him all morning. Now he was glad for the opportunity of more time to try and draw her out, to find out what was really in her mind.

This desire had to wait, though, as the questions from the boys started again even before they had all retired to the comfortable drawing room. Connie found himself again at the center of attention, surrounded by friends and family all eager to hear more stories of his life at sea.

“
How did you become a sailor?” Edward asked.

“
He begged me until I found him a place!” The rector laughed heartily before his son could speak. “The boy was quite persistent in his desire. I guess it was good that he knew what he wanted.”

“
Indeed,” Connie laughed along with his father. “I seem to remember a conversation that ended with my dear mother saying that I should be allowed to go and be forced to muddle on with it, no matter if I liked it or not at the last.”

Mrs. Croft joined in her son's good humor. She did not deny his allegation. “Why, yes I did! You were such an intent little boy that I do not believe your father or I could have stopped you from going to sea. So we decided you had better get to it and deal with the consequences like the man you wished to be.” Her eyes sparkled with humor before turning a shade wistful. “I did consider that you were too young. Your brothers were leaving for school and you were my last boy. I did hate to see you go. But you have done us all proud. You
muddled
through quite fine, I guess.” She grinned at Connie, who began himself to feel a little wistful.

“
Was it hard to leave home?” Freddy asked.

Connie nodded. “Yes, of course. Though I would have been the last to admit it! I kept my chin up for my mother's sake. But that ship did seem awfully lonely until I made some friends.” It had been a long time since he'd thought about those first weeks aboard ship. They had been the hardest he'd passed in his life.

Connie had never been away from home and his thirteen-year-old self had wanted to be strong. But he found himself only wishing for the comforts and companionship of home. A ship was a strange and confusing place for a full grown man, much less an innocent young boy. It had its own set of rules, its own form of society, its own hierarchy of merit. Everyone started at the bottom and worked his way up. You
earned
respect on board a naval ship. And there were always men ready to take advantage of your inexperience. Connie had learned that quickly, but not before he had been tricked out of more than one of his possessions.

Freddy's sigh interrupted Connie's thoughts of his younger self.

“
I wish I could go to sea,” the boy opined.

Miss Wentworth perked up as if a thought had just occurred to her. “Is that where you were headed yesterday morning, Freddy? To sea?”

They all turned toward the boy expectantly. In all the shuffle of searching and the relief of his return, no one had thought to ask Freddy where he'd been bound.

Freddy looked sheepishly around him and then shrugged. “I didn't really have a plan, but I guess that I was headed toward the sea. By the time I had made it out of town, I could only really think about how much my leg hurt.” They all laughed.

“
I guess it's good that Connie here came along with a horse to ride, then,” bellowed the rector. His laughter caused Freddy to blush. Connie felt some sympathy with the young man's folly.

“
I used to run away, too, you know.”

“
Really?” Freddy perked up, ready for another story and forgetful of his own embarrassment.

“
Truly?” The Reverend asked. He seemed startled at the revelation, as if he had never realized this about his son. Connie looked toward his mother, who was trying to conceal a sly smile.

“
Yes, truly, father!”

“
But... but... I never knew it!” The rector protested loudly. Mrs. Croft was audibly giggling now and the rest of the room was on the verge, ready to be let into the joke.

Connie's face was contorted with the laughter he choked back. He hadn't realized that all these years later and his mother had never told his father. “You never knew, father, because I always came back for supper!”

At that, Mrs. Croft's giggles turned to hearty laughter. “He never could resist the call of his belly! Connie would come home and announce to me that he had run away but then decided to come back because he knew we would be bereft without him. And then he'd sit happily down to his supper. And all the time I never even knew he'd run away.” The room was howling with laughter.

Connie wiped the happy tears from his eyes and said, “She only shook her head at me and went on with whatever she was doing, dear old Mama.”

“
I never knew!” The rector shouted again. Every time the laughter threatened to die away, he would say it again and send them back into fits of fun.

“
With such a penchant for running, my boy,” began the rector, “how did you ever manage this long in the Navy?”

“
There are not many places to run away to aboard ship! And, what's more important, no one to miss me when I am gone,” Connie smiled.

Doctor Wentworth had noticed that Freddy looked puzzled. “What's the matter, son?”

“
Only thinking about how someone would run away to sea, if he was determined.” The doctor looked alarmed at this statement, so Connie stepped in.

“
It is not as easy as it sounds in novels, young man.” Freddy's face fell. “Not that the Navy doesn't need good men. But one cannot simply walk onto a ship. You have to be taken on board by the captain, so it helps to know a sailor or two – or even a captain,” Connie winked as he said this, “-- who can recommend you.”

“
Is that how you went on board a ship?” Edward had become as interested in the subject as his brother.

Connie nodded. “Yes, actually. My father knew a chaplain on board the
Baron
who was able to recommend me a place. The captain liked me and took me on.”

* * *

For the rest of the afternoon, Sophy listened as intently as her brothers to the stories Captain Croft told. She listened as he told of his first lonely night aboard ship. She laughed along with him as he told of the antics of his fellow midshipmen. She listened as he told about the exotic travels to the West Indies and to the opposite side of the globe to the East Indies. Sophy listened to it all with the careful attention of one who would never visit these places, one who must absorb all of her experience from books and the stories of others.

She reveled in the stories. It was not hard to imagine anything the captain described. He had such a way of telling a tale. He was a great mimic and his stories were full of the voices and personalities he had encountered. One of her favorites had been his description of an overzealous wine merchant.

Captain Croft had begun his tale by saying, “First, let me describe this little man. And he was little. O'Brian and I thought he looked a bit like a barrel. Had he fallen over, I expect he would have bobbed up and down in the water.” The captain had blown up his cheeks, which had driven his audience to delighted laughter.

“
Indeed, I am not quite sure how he fit his rotund body into the little skip he was rowing out to us. But there he was, his fat little arms working double time to row against the tide.” Captain Croft rowed his arms frantically and made a comical face.

“
When he finally pulled alongside of us, the poor man was panting and sweating. We did feel quite sorry for him, even as we laughed at him. Well, he rowed up alongside and shouted up to us in an accent I could not quite place.” Here the captain looked up at the ceiling, pretending to look up the side of a ship and loudly imitated the little man's indistinguishable accent and manner.

“
'Ello, der! I 'ave-a brought de wine fo' you!'” At this ridiculous voice, the captain's audience had dissolved into laughter. He need only say something in the accent to start them all off again. When they had calmed somewhat, Captain Croft continued.

“
Well, we could hardly keep from laughing in the man's face, but we told him he was mistaken and we did not need any wine. He must have stood in that little skip for half an hour trying to convince us that we needed his 'best wine in the world'. A few times, I feared he would fall out of his boat, he was gesturing so wildly at us.” The captain stood up from his chair and pretended to be on an unsteady boat, almost tipping over.