Chapter Sixteen

 

 

 

‘Sophie! My dear Miss Haydon.’ Henry recovered from his surprise with speed. ‘What a pleasant surprise, I had no idea you were in York.’ He sounded quite composed and not at all as though he had just come unexpectedly upon the young woman with whom he had once so scandalously eloped.

‘Indeed, it is a surprise to see you, Mr Winstanley. I have not long been here in York,’ she replied in a colourless tone, trying not to let him see just how much his presence alarmed her. ‘I am making a very brief visit to friends.’

‘Would they be anyone I know?’ he enquired, stepping forward to offer his arm. ‘Allow me to escort you home. Naturally, I will call upon you at the earliest moment, we have so much to talk of.’

It was incredible, she thought, thrown off-balance by his complete lack of any sign of awkwardness. He showed not the slightest embarrassment, which was astonishing considering how they had parted. He was addressing her as though they were the merest acquaintances who had met at the Assembly Rooms, not as erstwhile lovers.

‘Thank you, but I will not trouble you, I am merely taking the air.’ Sophie took a deep, steadying breath and pretended not to notice he was offering her his arm. The thought of Henry Winstanley in Emma’s drawing room, dropping goodness knows what indiscreet hints, filled her with dread. ‘I regret it would not be possible for you to call, Mr Winstanley. My hostess is... indisposed and does not receive visitors at present.’

Despite her cool tone, Henry was not rebuffed and remained at her side. She found herself walking along the gravelled path, quite unable to think of how to shake him off. ‘I see you have taken Holy Orders, Mr Winstanley. I had understood you had gone to Wales.’ What was she going to do when they arrived back on the road? The last thing she wanted was for this man to discover where she was staying. Thank goodness it was not Sunday. The shops were open so she could pretend an errand at a linen draper’s, or a milliner's, or some other feminine destination that would allow her to shake Henry off.

‘You are most kind to have followed my career,' Henry replied smoothly with the air she had once mistaken for genuine sophistication. ‘I have just been appointed to a curacy here at the Minster, a most favourable step in my progress in the church, I need hardly say.’

Sophie's heart sank. She would have to take to her bed in the time she remained in York, for nothing less would excuse her missing church services. It was a miracle that Henry had not already seen her with Lady John.

They reached a corner in the path where several paved walks split off. ‘You will excuse me,’ she said firmly, ‘but I must leave you here, I have promised my hostess to carry out several errands for her.’

He stepped to one side and doffed his hat. ‘But you will at least furnish me with your direction, Miss Haydon?’

‘Er...yes.’ What could she say? Frantically she made up an address and was about to give it to him when a voice called, ‘Oh, Miss Haydon, there you are.’

It was one of the Wyatts’ maids, hurrying along the path, her face beaming with triumph at having found her quarry. ‘Lady John was so worried that you had gone out without a maid, miss, she sent me right off to find you.’

With sinking heart Sophie saw Henry’s eyes narrow. ‘Lady John? Surely that is the Reverend Lord John Wyatt’s wife?’

‘Yes, sir, if you please, sir,’ the maid agreed with a bobbed curtsy.

‘I am sorry to hear she is indisposed,’ Henry said slowly, smiling at the girl, his eyes still narrowed in speculation. ‘I was sure I saw her yesterday at evensong.’

‘Oh, no, sir, Lady John is quite well,’ the maid assured him earnestly, before responding to Sophie’s sharp hand gesture to take her place behind them and out of earshot.

‘My dear Sophie,’ Henry said thoughtfully, standing close. ‘Can it be that you do not wish me to call upon your hostess? I wonder why? Could it be she is ignorant of our past acquaintance? I do hope you will introduce me, for it can only do my career good to be brought to the notice of such a gentleman as the Reverend Lord John Wyatt.’

‘And if I choose not to?’ Sophie said, unable to suppress the anger in her voice.

‘Why, that would be very unwise, Sophie, for I am sure your friends would be most distressed to find their guest was not quite what they thought her.’ He smiled, showing beautiful teeth, but his blue eyes were cold with calculation.

‘Do not attempt to threaten me, Henry. The Wyatts are well acquainted with me and, while they know my history, they are not aware of your part in it. I would suggest that it would not do either your reputation, or your preferment in the Church, any good if it were to become common knowledge.’

Henry Winstanley merely raised his hat, bowed slightly and, smiling, strolled off towards the east end of the Minster.

Sophie watched him go with the dismaying sense that she had not come off best in that encounter. What had she ever seen in the man? True, he was good looking, but they were the shallow type of good looks that swiftly faded with middle age, and his character would be no compensation.

‘Miss? Miss Haydon?’

The maid had obviously been addressing her for some seconds. Sophie shook off her disturbing thoughts and concentrated on a solution to this appalling turn of events. Or was it so very bad? Perhaps it was all for the best, however painful.

Hal had little desire to marry her, a sentiment which was all too obviously shared by his relatives. Well, then, she must leave, but not to return to London, to the joys of life with Lavinia and George. She would keep to her original plan and go to Hertfordshire, where she could find seclusion with no questions asked about these missing days in her life.

Sophie had no resources of her own, not a penny piece in her pocket. She had only a hazy idea how much a ticket on the Mail would cost, but she was sure the fast coach would be more expensive than the slower stage coaches. There was no help for it, she would have to ask Lady John for a loan, as well as for her help in slipping away without Hal’s knowledge.

As she was peeling off her gloves in the hall the butler passed through with a tray of silverware. ‘Grayling, are the gentlemen at home?’

‘No, Miss Haydon, I believe they had an appointment with the Archdeacon.’

That sounded ominously like the first steps towards securing the marriage licence. ‘And Lady John?’

‘Lady John is in the garden room arranging flowers, miss.’

She found Emma occupied in filling a pair of matching urns with greenery. She greeted Sophie pleasantly enough, although with a hint of reserve, and was obviously taken aback when she sat down.

‘Lady John... Emma. May I ask for your assistance in a very delicate matter?’

Two spots of colour appeared on the older woman’s cheeks. ‘Assistance? Is something amiss? You are not – ?’ She broke off in some confusion, her hands unconsciously resting over the slight swell in her gown.

Sophie felt herself blush hectically. ‘No. I assure you, Lady John, nothing of that nature. You cannot be unaware that the Duke has asked me to marry him?’

‘Er, yes.’ Emma began hacking at the stem of a branch of laurel. ‘And in the absence of your own mama or sister-in-law you want to ask me about... er, marriage.’

They were both now as pink as peonies. ‘No, indeed not, Lady John. I do apologise, I am not making myself plain at all. The fact of the matter is, I do not wish to marry Hal.’

‘And why not, might I ask?’ Emma was immediately on the defensive. ‘You could not hope for a more brilliant match. Why, every unattached young lady in London would wish to marry the Duke.’

Sophie, despite the situation, could see the humour in Emma’s response. She kept her face very straight. ‘But surely you do not wish to promote this match, given that your brother-in-law is so eligible?’

Emma was obviously embarrassed that she had let her reservations show. ‘Well, it is never ideal when people are thrown together by circumstance, and not by choice.’ That was a palpable hit and Sophie winced inwardly. ‘Exactly my feelings, Lady John,’ she agreed firmly. ‘Unfortunately, I cannot persuade Hal of this. Under your chaperonage I see no reason for a forced alliance, as you obviously cannot, therefore it would be best if I return to my family estate in Hertfordshire. The Duke will then see that no further action is necessary on his part, however sensitive his honour.’

Emma was positively beaming until she recalled herself and managed an expression of thoughtful regret. ‘Oh, dear. I must congratulate you on the fineness of your feelings in this matter: to turn down the prospect of a brilliant marriage to a man who is very eligible is sacrifice indeed.’ She hesitated, her gaze intent on Sophie’s face. ‘You do not love him, then?’

Sophie's head came up and she looked directly at her questioner. This was something about which she could not bring herself to lie. ‘I do love him, far too much to trap him in a marriage that is not of his free will.’

The tip of Emma's nose went quite pink and she produced a handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed her eyes. ‘Oh, my dear Sophie. I feel so… I wish with all my heart that Hal did love you in return. Such nobility of character! I have quite wronged you. Oh, dear.’ She turned her head away.

So, everyone knew he did not love her. Sophie bit her trembling lip, determined not to join Emma in weeping or she would never arrange her escape before the men returned.

‘Lady John, could you make me a loan of the money I need to buy my ticket on the Mail? And I am afraid I must also ask for something for food along the way and to hire a chaise when I arrive at Baldock. I am sorry to have to ask, but I do not have any money of my own on me. Naturally, as soon as I arrive home I will arrange for a bank draft to be sent to you.’

‘But of course.’ Emma blew her nose briskly and turned to the practicalities of the escape. ‘I must find you a portmanteau and a hatbox and enough clothing and toilet articles for the journey. And, let me think, what else will you need? A parcel of food as well as money – one can never trust these inns.’

‘Thank you, Emma, that would be marvellous,’ Sophie began, but stopped abruptly as Emma’s hand went to her mouth. ‘What is it?’

‘Today is Saturday,’ Lady John exclaimed.

‘Yes?’

‘I have spent all my housekeeping for this week, and John always gives me the new week’s sum on Monday morning. I cannot lend you anything until then.’

Another day and a half to get through and at least two inescapable attendances at church with the risk of meeting Henry Winstanley. She would have to plead an indisposition. If she did not say what it was, the men would assume it was a feminine matter not to be discussed. The thought of having to stay in her room for the whole day to add verisimilitude to the story was not appealing, but it also meant she would not have to see, or speak to, Hal. Lady John might think she was being noble, but every contact with him was like rubbing salt in a wound.

As she thought it there was the sound of masculine voices in the hall and John pushed open the door. ‘Here you are, my dear. And Miss Haydon.’ He walked in beaming, followed by Hal, who was looking staggeringly attractive in a dark formal suit with his wayward hair firmly ordered, as befitted someone who had been paying a call of ceremony on the Archdeacon. He was also looking extremely serious, in marked contrast to John.

Lord John kissed his wife on the cheek. ‘Such excellent news, Emma. The Archdeacon was most helpful about the licence and he believes that his Grace will wish to conduct the marriage ceremony himself.’

‘The Archbishop of York himself? Sophie, you are very favoured indeed, although naturally it is only what is due to Hal.’

Then she caught Sophie’s frozen look and clearly realised what she had committed herself to. Not only was she defying her husband in helping Sophie escape, but now she would place him in an incredibly difficult position in having to explain to the Archbishop that, despite his condescension, the bride-to-be had fled. As Grayling arrived at that moment to announce that tea was served in the front parlour the men appeared not to have noticed her expression.

‘Excellent,’ Emma said brightly. ‘I do confess, I am more than ready for a cup of tea. I feel unusually fatigued.’

John immediately took her arm. ‘Have you done too much, dearest? Should you go and lie down? I will have the tea brought up to you.’

Sophie hung back as they led the way out, Emma protesting that she was quite all right and would take tea downstairs. ‘Grayling, please send to see if Miss Elizabeth will join us.’

Hal held the door for Sophie. ‘l expect you have realised that my sister-in-law is in a delicate condition. With it being their first, John is very solicitous.’

‘It is natural that Lord John should feel a proper concern for his wife.’

Hal appeared not to notice her constraint. He gently tucked a wayward curl of hair back behind her ear, letting the back of his finger trail down her hot cheek. ‘Of course. And when the time comes, I am sure I shall feel the same concern for you.’

Sophie’s blush deepened. Inside her, a sudden stab of pain echoed the realisation of just what she was giving up. She wanted Hal, she wanted his children, and all that was now lost to her. But she could not marry a man who did not love her and more especially now, with Henry Winstanley in York. Sophie had no doubt he was ambitious enough to use the past scandal of their failed elopement to his advantage in furthering his career. If she married Hal and it all came out, it would reflect not only on herself and Hal, but also on John’s position.

Henry did not know just how resolute and tough the two brothers were: far from yielding to blackmail and helping Henry along the path to preferment as he no doubt hoped, they would drag him off to the Archdeacon, she was certain. But it would still be most unpleasant and she could not risk doing that to Emma and John, who had been so kind to her despite the circumstances.

Tea was quite the most ghastly experience. Hal was demonstratively attentive to her, passing her cake and bread and butter, his fingertips touching hers in a way that sent a frisson of desire through her. Elizabeth had joined them, but with a very bad grace, and spent all her time feeding pieces of tartlet to Emma’s little lap dog. No one had enquired if Elizabeth was feeling better, or indeed paid her any attention whatsoever, so she subsided into a deep sulk.

John was still concerned about his wife and fussed in a way that made Emma’s agitation worse. Sophie stole a glance at her and their eyes met. Emma clearly knew what Sophie was thinking: that everything had become so much more difficult now that the second most senior clergyman in the land was involved in the ceremony.

When the clock on the mantelshelf struck four, Sophie made an excuse and left to go to her room. She was followed a few moments later by Emma. Elizabeth joined them without invitation, and then flounced out again when Emma said kindly, but with an edge of firmness, ‘I have to speak to Sophie on a delicate matter, alone.’

‘I know you can no longer help me, I have placed you in an impossible position,’ Sophie said. ‘But I must still go away. I will just have to think of some other plan.’

Emma shook her head. ‘No, I gave you my word I would help, and help I will. After all, it would be much worse if you ran away with no resources and got into some scrape, or even danger. I will explain things to John afterwards, he will understand.’ But her voice wavered on the last defiant statement and Sophie knew he was most unlikely to be sympathetic.

Emma got to her feet and went out, returning moments later with a little velvet bag. ‘Here, take this, I had forgotten about it earlier when we were talking about funds for your journey and I feel much more comfortable giving you this rather than the housekeeping. It is my own money, not John’s. My father makes me an allowance every year and I had put this on one side for a new evening gown.’ She shook the money into Sophie’s lap, a small shower of guineas which would be more than enough to see her safely to Hertfordshire by the Mail.

‘It is too much,’ Sophie protested.

‘No, better to have some in hand in case of an emergency. And I have checked with Grayling, the Mail leaves the King’s Head at six this evening. If we hurry and pack a portmanteau, you will easily catch it.’

Sophie caught her hand. ‘Thank you, Emma, from the bottom of my heart. I know how difficult this is for you, but I am sure in the long run it is the best thing for all of us. I will return the money just as soon as I can.’

Both women started as the bedchamber door clicked shut in the draught from the window. ‘My nerves are all to pieces,’ Emma said with a tremulous laugh. ‘Now, let us find a portmanteau.’