Sophie's Halloo (2 page)

“I’m from Hampshire.”

Sir John roused himself with renewed interest.  “Then you must hunt with the Hampshire Hunt,” he said. “I’ve never ridden with them, but Mr. Villebois has bred an exceedingly fine pack. Quite a decorous group, I’m told.” He lifted his eyebrows questioningly,

Tony looked at him apologetically. “I’m afraid not,” he said.

Sir John was surprised, but not defeated. “Is there a private pack you prefer, then?”

“No,” Tony answered with polite regret. “I do not hunt at all.”

“You do not hunt?”

Tony turned towards Sophia, who had just spoken so incredulously. She was looking at him with eyes opened wide, as though he were the three-legged man at the country fair, and he noticed how large and thickly lashed her eyes were. Sir John was expressing his astonishment in blustering tones, and even Lady Corby looked unsettled.

“No,” said Tony again. “I’m afraid not.” He looked sincerely regretful, but Sophia continued to stare at him in amazement, and he marvelled that such an insignificant statement could have caused her awakening. “Miss Corby,” he begged finally, “please do not look at me so. I’m afraid you are quite disappointed in me.”

“Not at all!” said Sophia, wonder in her tone. “I am delighted with you.”

“Sophie!” exclaimed her mother and father simultaneously. “You must not regard her, Sir Tony. She is just a child and does not know what she is saying,” pleaded Lady Corby with some embarrassment. Sir John was cautioning Sophie to mind her tongue. But Tony was watching Sophie who, though she blushed at her own words, continued to gaze at him with something like awe and allowed a big smile to spread slowly across her face. As it did so, something extraordinary happened. Two dimples, the deepest Tony had ever seen, marked her peach-coloured cheeks. Her lips parted to reveal two rows of perfectly even white teeth.  A gleam of admiration lit her eyes. And the result was an unexpected assault on his senses. He found himself wondering just what it would feel like to rub his own lips gently over those soft cheeks with the dimples, moving ever closer and closer towards those lips.

Something of this inclination must have appeared in his expression, for the girl stopped smiling and regarded him with more reserve. But happily, or so Tony thought it, she did not lose interest again. After eyeing him speculatively for a moment, she asked him, “When you say that you do not hunt,  Sir Tony, surely you mean merely that you do not hunt the fox?”

He shook his head solemnly.

“Not hares? Otters? Badgers?” Sophie eyed him sceptically, but after each question, he answered in the negative. “Well,” she concluded, almost speechless.

Tony had not been prepared for the startling effect of his pronouncement. Grinning at the ease of his success, he said, “There you go again, Miss Corby. You are looking at me as though I had suddenly sprouted horns. I assure you that you will meet many gentlemen in London who do not hunt.” But as soon as he had said so, he regretted it, for Sophie’s eyes lit with hopeful anticipation.

“I shall?” she said, almost with a sigh. Tony hoped that he had not lost all competitive advantage with one slip of the tongue.

“Nonsense, girl!” interjected Sir John. “I am sure there is no respectable gentleman who does not hunt—occasionally, at least,” he added, qualifying his statement at the sight of Tony’s rueful grin. “Of course, there might be some impediment to it. Perhaps you have not had proper introduction to the chase, Sir Tony. You must pay us a call in the Shires. Once you have been blooded and presented with the fox’s brush, you will be all set,” said he confidently.

“I thank you, Sir John, but I’m afraid nothing can excuse me. I have had ample opportunity to hunt, but find that it does not suit me for several reasons, and, as I am unwilling to devote the proper time to it, have concluded that I had best leave it alone. You will think me a frippery fellow, but I much prefer the amusements of London.”

There was nothing inscrutable about Sir John’s subsequent expression, but out of politeness to his host, he kept his thoughts to himself. “Well, I do find that queer” was all he said.

“You yourself, I take it, must hunt the majority of your time,” said Tony.

“Aye. Six days a week,” asserted Sir John.

“It is as I expected,” said Tony. “Such devotion does not come cheaply, I’ll warrant.”

“That it does,” agreed Sir John, not without pride.  “It takes ten thousand a year just to manage, though last year was a bit worse. I lost three top mounts at £700 each—they each dropped dead with me astride.  But this year will be different, I suppose,” he added regretfully, remembering his destination.

Tony regarded him with an enigmatic smile. “Just so. You will not need to spend so much in London.  And so it is with me,” he concluded without explanation.

It was getting late, and he wanted to be off early in the morning. He looked at his guests expectantly, but each seemed lost in private thoughts. Sir John was still regretting the rest of the season he would be missing; Lady Corby just looked tired. And Sophie, who had been gazing absently at some remote object, came to when she sensed his eyes upon her. She smiled again, not quite so boldly this time, but questioningly.

Tony took her hand and bowed over it. “I would be honoured if you would allow me to call on you in London, Miss Corby,” he said.

Sophie opened her mouth to respond, but her father, suddenly alert, broke her off. “Of course, of course, naturally,” he said unconvincingly. “We’ll be happy to see you. We must be off to bed now, though, so we can get into Town early tomorrow. I’d better have a word with that innkeeper.”

“As to that, Sir John,” offered Tony, “it has occurred to me that I have a means of making other arrangements for the night, and I would be happy to give you my room. No need to wake poor Jem or Dick, as it is certain to be, and you will have a much better bed.  I shall ask the man to remove my things.”

Sir John appeared uncertain, but grudgingly accepted. He had lost much of his enthusiasm for his host since Tony’s admission that he did not hunt, a fact that did not escape Tony. “If it will not discomfit you too much,” Sir John said with gruff courtesy.

“Not at all,” replied Tony. He went in search of the landlord and gave him his instructions. Then he returned and bade the Corby family good-night. As they ascended the stairs, Tony was encouraged by the fact that Sophie looked back at him shyly over her shoulder. Something prompted him to wink at her wickedly and he was rewarded by seeing her lips form a silent “o,” and then a quick dimple before she turned and hastened up the stairs.

He looked after her for a moment, grinning speculatively, before returning to the parlour and polishing off his pint of ale. Then, thrusting his hands once again deeply into his pockets, he kicked his same oak chair neatly over to the fire and lowered himself into it. As he sank lower and lower against the hard back, he lifted his booted legs, crossed them at the ankle and plunked them down once again on the footstool.

A tempting thought struck him as he lay there again watching the crumbling coals. What a remarkably fine reward it would be for some lucky fellow to waken such a lovely sleeping beauty as Sophia Corby. He wondered what it would take to make her eyes widen with delight when a man entered the room, and how he could entice those charming dimples more often from their creamy hiding place.

Sophia, he mused sleepily, the wise one. He would find out just how aptly named she had been. Surely there was something out of the ordinary behind that air of vague detachment. Her direct, unschooled manner was intriguing.

Tony smiled as pleasant thoughts and the fire’s warmth conspired to make him sleepy, and soon, despite his posture, he dropped easily off to sleep.

CHAPTER TWO

Sophie woke the next morning feeling much happier than she had expected. She pondered and then remembered the strange gentleman from the night before. At first she had not really noticed him or had dismissed him as being like any other gentleman of her limited acquaintance.  But then he had suddenly seemed quite otherwise.

He does not hunt, she thought. The novelty of it was still new and intriguing. She wondered what he could possibly do with his time, and this mystery alone was making her impending trip to London seem less of a misery already.

It was not that Sophie had a disinclination to visit the city of London or even that she was not curious to see it. It was simply that she did not relish the idea of going there to be married off, like a foxhound bitch being sent to be bred. 

From the little that Sophie had seen of marriage, she had formed a poor impression of it, and she doubted it would please her. But suddenly, it seemed there was a new consideration. Sir Tony had assured her that she would meet many gentlemen who were not addicted to the chase, and curiosity about them put a new light on her adventure. Papa had ridiculed the idea, she remembered, but logic told her that if her father seldom went to Town, had even an aversion to it, then perhaps those gentlemen who spent most of their time there were quite different. Sophie sat up in bed alert.

Sir Tony had winked at her. The strange thing was that she had not disliked it. He was not handsome, at least not in the florid, masculine way that her father had been as a young man, or the Prince Regent. But she did like the way he smiled at one, so openly, without reserve, and she had noticed, rather vaguely at first and more consciously later, that she liked the way he moved. He was tall and slender—but not lanky; at ease—but perfectly alert; relaxed—yet efficient. He had rather ordinary light brown hair and blue eyes, but he was pleasant to look at. It must be his constant expression of goodwill, which she found so attractive. Surely no one with that smile could intend to do her ill with an improper wink.

Sophie went downstairs for breakfast hoping to see him again, but learned along with her parents that Sir Tony Farnham had left quite early that morning.

The rest of the day was busy enough to keep her keenly tuned to her surroundings, for the impact of London town upon the senses of one raised in the country was something she had not anticipated. Every turned corner offered glimpses of things of which she had never been aware, and even her father grew animated in pointing out objects of interest to her, from the Town mansions of the great aristocrats to the gallows at Tyburn. If it were not for an occasional recollection of their mission there, Sophie would have declared herself well pleased with the city.

They arrived in Berkeley Square and found themselves quite content with the house Sir John had taken for the season. The public rooms were spacious enough to permit small but adequate gatherings when they should be ready to entertain company. They spent the rest of the day unpacking, but during the afternoon, Lady Corby managed to dash off a note to Sir John’s widowed sister, Mrs. Sarah Brewster, to let her know that they had arrived and were settling in.

Mrs. Brewster had married a wealthy gentleman from Kent, who had left her a house in Town, his property in Kent and a small fortune to go with it. She, like her brother, was an avid enthusiast of the chase, but because of a severe fall incurred in her middle years, she had been forbidden to ride again. Since that time, she had seldom visited her brother in Leicestershire, preferring the amusements of London to sitting about the countryside watching others have all the fun.

But she was quite happy to receive her brother’s family in Town and had written enthusiastically when she had heard of their plans to come. Soon after noon on the day following their arrival, she appeared, bursting in upon them like a whipper-in going after some wayward hounds.

“Hallo, Clarissa!” she boomed, taking her sister-in-law in a crushing embrace. “You are looking much too pale, gel! Looks like you’re off your feed.” She subjected Lady Corby to a careful scrutiny. “Not breeding again, I hope? No? That’s good. Where’s that girl Sophie?” she asked, turning abruptly. “Let me see you! Just as I remembered you. You look fine, gel! In prime form! You will take well.” She bugged Sophie mercilessly and patted her briskly on the back, while giving her a final bit of heartfelt advice. “Just don’t rush your fences.”

Though the sentiments were not what Sophie could wish, she had to smile. It was impossible not to like this bold, unconventional woman, even if she did not share one’s tastes.

Lady Corby, however, was slightly overcome. Between visits she tended to forget the full effect of Mrs. Brewster’s personality, and she might be forgiven for imagining that the experience of Town life might have had some moderating influence. Still, she, too, had an affection for her sister-in-law, despite their differences.

“Sadie,” she said rather breathlessly, “you are looking well. I’m so glad you were at home to get our message.”

“I wasn’t,” stated Aunt Sadie matter-of-factly.  “Just got word this morning. But I loaded up and drove to Town immediately. Made it in record time, too, in this weather. I shall have it reported to the Four-in-Hand Club, even though they will not count it officially. It will give them something to aim at.” She spoke without rancour.

“Oh, dear,” said Lady Corby faintly. “I fear we have inconvenienced you dreadfully.” 

Aunt Sadie was astonished. “Of course not, gel! Did I say so? I always welcome a challenge. You know that. But enough of this. Where is my bow-legged whelp of a brother?”

By this time the sound of her booming voice had brought Sir John downstairs, and as she spoke he had come up behind her. Taking his cue, he put a rough arm around her rather thick waist and gave her a suffocating hug.

“Who’s this calling me bow-legged? Sadie, you have not changed a whit. Still game enough for anything, I’ll warrant.”

A rosy hue spread over Sadie’s rather rugged countenance. She gave Sir John a hardy slap on the chest, which nearly knocked him into the passageway.  “Of course, I am, you impudent dog! There is more to life than fox-hunting, you know, though I miss it, of course. And as long as that cur of a doctor don’t tell me otherwise, I aim to enjoy it.”

Lady Corby, fearful that an exchange of brotherly blows might lead to some breakage in the hired furniture, hastily suggested that they sit and chat. Surprisingly, they seemed to have no objection, so she breathed a sigh of relief. Then no more than a few moments passed before brother and sister were deep in discussion of the losses to Sir John’s stable that year.