Chapter Eighteen

 

 

 

Sophie felt suddenly queasy. Henry, here. He was an ambitious man and she should have known that he would not accept her cold rebuttal of him on Saturday.

‘Mr Winstanley, my lady.’

Emma stepped forward to shake hands. ‘Good morning, Mr Winstanley. I regret my husband is not at home to greet you. May I introduce you to Miss Haydon?’

‘Good day, Lady John, I am most honoured that you have received me. I do hope I am not intruding? Good afternoon, Miss Haydon, such a pleasure to see you again so soon.’ He released Emma’s hand to bow over Sophie’s reluctantly extended fingers.

‘Mr Winstanley,’ she acknowledged colourlessly, resuming her seat. If she had not known Henry so well, she too might be regarding him with the same approval Emma was showing. There was no denying he was an impressive young man. His coat was immaculately cut, his linen spotless, his boots burnished to a high sheen. His manners were exemplary and Emma was clearly impressed.

He accepted a cup of tea and a biscuit and maintained an easy conversation with Emma about the parish in Wales from which he had been promoted and the many charms of York in comparison.

Sophie found it hard to sit still. So far, all Henry’s topics were innocuous. He spoke about the landscape, his impressions of York and the beauty of its buildings and so forth, but she was on tenterhooks waiting for him to say something that might reveal the extent of their previous relationship.

‘It appears that you already know Miss Haydon, Mr Winstanley,’ Emma commented.

Sophie held her breath as Henry said, ‘Oh, we were childhood friends in Hertfordshire, Lady John. Quite two hearts that beat as one, but it was not to be and fate parted us. Imagine my delight when I came upon Miss Haydon the other morning.’

Emma shot Sophie a curious glance, clearly wondering why Sophie had not mentioned meeting an old friend, particularly as she had no other acquaintances in York. Sophie searched frantically for some innocuous way to join in the conversation when Henry added, ‘And then I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Haydon again later the same day with the Duke of Weybourne.’

‘How nice for Miss Wyatt that she now has an old friend in the city. Now you must tell me, have you secured congenial lodgings, Mr Winstanley? Some of our young curates have had the most unfortunate experiences with very unsuitable landladies before they have found themselves settled.’

And from that point, with the firm hand of an experienced and ambitious clergy wife, Emma kept the conversation on local Minster matters. If Henry found this tiresome, his handsome face did not show it. But then, Sophie mused, her eye flicking between Henry and the face of the mantel clock, he would recognise the need to be on the very best of terms with the wives behind the men of influence in the diocese. The clock hand moved to twenty past. Thank goodness, someone as careful as Henry would not exceed the polite expectation that a call would be confined to thirty minutes exactly.

Then she heard the front door open and the sound of Elizabeth's animated voice floated through to the drawing room. ‘Oh, Grayling, please take my whip and gloves. We have had a lovely ride. Hal, may we do this every day? Oh, look, a hat. Do we have callers, Grayling?’

‘Yes, Lady Elizabeth. The gentleman is with Lady John and Miss Haydon in the front parlour.’

‘Oh, good, a gentleman.’

‘Elizabeth.’ Even at that distance Hal’s growl was clear.

It was a very demure young lady who tripped into the front parlour, putting back the coarse mesh of the veil on her tricorne hat with one gloved hand. She looks stunning, Sophie thought wistfully, conscious of her own heavy eyes and lack of spirits. Elizabeth wore a deep claret riding habit of dashing cut and her dark hair was piled into a net which scarcely controlled its luxuriance. Her blue eyes, sparkling from the exertions of her ride, turned on Henry and Sophie saw them widen as she took in the tall young man who had leapt to his feet at her entrance.

‘Good day, sir,’ Elizabeth said demurely, lowering her lashes to sweep enchantingly over her rosy cheeks.

Minx, Sophie thought anxiously. The chit is flirting. It seemed her last escapade had taught her nothing.

Henry was reacting exactly as might be expected on being introduced to a ravishingly pretty, well-connected debutante. He bowed over her hand when introduced, held her fingers for just a fraction longer than he should, then helped her to her seat as though she were fragile porcelain.

Hal followed his sister into the room, exchanged greetings with Henry, then, taking a cup of tea from Emma, sat opposite Sophie.

She tried to read his face, but saw nothing there other than the healthy glow of a man just returned from an energetic ride. He met her gaze and smiled slightly and a hot shiver ran through her from head to toe. Hal was looking devilishly attractive, his dark hair ruffled. Sophie imagined jumping up, throw herself into his arms, kissing his mouth, still chilled by the breeze.

She coloured and swallowed hard, sure her thoughts were obvious to this man who knew her, and her body’s reactions, so well. Hal’s eyes danced responsively, and his lips quirked as if he was remembering something particularly pleasurable. It seemed that she was forgiven and that Hal once again considered her many character flaws less important than his need to flirt with her. But have I forgiven you? she wondered.

The clock struck the half hour and Henry made as if to stand. ‘Oh, no, Mr Winstanley,’ Emma protested. ‘Please, do not hurry away. I was about to ring for fresh tea.’

Henry subsided, smoothing his hair back with one well-manicured hand. Sophie was surprised, then saw the look on Emma’s face as she observed him and Elizabeth. Emma obviously thought that a respectable, attractive curate was exactly what her sister-in-law needed to salve her broken heart and restore her spirits. And even Hal appeared to be watching Elizabeth’s flirtation with indulgence.

John arrived home as the clock struck midday. Henry leapt to his feet and waited modestly to be noticed by his superior. After exchanging a few words he thanked Emma fulsomely for her hospitality, apologised for the length of his intrusion and left with a warm invitation for an early return ringing in his ears.

‘Promising young man,’ John observed, refusing a cup of tea. ‘One hears nothing but good of him. He has been particularly helpful to the Dean, I believe.’

‘I am pleased to hear it,’ Emma said. ‘He has the most charming manners. Quite a useful addition to Society in York, one feels.’

John settled himself in the place just vacated by Henry, enquired after Elizabeth and Hal’s ride, then produced his pocket book and pulled what looked like a list from it. ‘I am glad to catch you all at home. If no one has another engagement I think we should discuss the wedding arrangements. The Archbishop has been asking about our plans.’

Sophie’s silence seemed to go unnoticed amidst Elizabeth’s excited chatter about being a bridesmaid. John ushered them all into his study to sit around the big table where he drafted his sermons. ‘I have begun a list,’ he said, spreading papers in front of him and dipping his quill in the standish. ‘The first thing to decide is the precise date: I understand from his Grace’s secretary that the tenth of next month would be convenient. Is that enough time, my dear?’

‘Three weeks?’ Emma looked pleased. ‘That will be ample time. I had feared less.’

John conned his list. ‘Now, you can leave the arrangements about the ceremony to me, Hal. The most pressing matter is the guests. Have you heard yet from Sir George Haydon?’

‘I had a reply to my letter this morning.’ Hal tossed a folded letter onto the table.

‘George?’ Sophie grasped the arms of her chair and stared at Hal. ‘You have written to my brother? I thought Lady John had done so to tell him I was a guest here.’

‘Of course, but it seemed better if I added my news to her invitation,’ Hal replied smoothly. ‘Naturally, I had to ask his permission.’

‘And what did he say?’ Sophie asked, in a voice that cracked.

‘He said, Yes. What did you expect him to say?’

‘What does he write?’

Hal picked up the letter, glanced at it and replaced it in his pocket. ‘He expresses himself delighted and says that Lady Haydon is ecstatic.’

‘That I can believe,’ Sophie muttered. Lavinia would regard this match as heaven-sent for her ambitions for herself and her daughters Charlotte and Grace. ‘But I have not heard from him,’ she added out loud.

Hal looked at her, one eyebrow raised. ‘Perhaps he feels that all correspondence should now be by way of your affianced husband.’ Sophie glared back, her feeling of impotence growing.

Whatever she said, however badly she behaved, it seemed that Hal was determined to make her his wife. And it also appeared that she was to have no say at all in her wedding arrangements.

Emma’s practical voice broke into her thoughts. ‘Now, how are we to plan for guests? There will be Sir George and Lady Haydon and their two daughters...’

Hal produced another list. ‘Sir George is ahead of you, Emma. He has sent me a list of those he will be inviting, just as soon as he receives confirmation of the date. If all of them accept, and I am sure not everyone will be able to leave London at this time, it will number around fifty.’

‘And our own party,’ Emma chimed in, rapidly calculating on her fingers. ‘And John’s colleagues and their families, and your guests, Hal. My goodness, we may find ourselves entertaining well over one hundred people.’

Sophie felt decidedly faint. If she had thought about her wedding day at all, it had been in terms of a quiet affair with a very small group of people indeed. It seemed instead that she was being thrust into the leading role in a Society wedding. However was she going to get out of this now? It was not as though it were a secret any longer, because George would have lost no time in spreading the word and Lavinia would have informed her entire acquaintance.

Her feelings must have shown, because Emma patted her hand kindly. ‘It is natural for you to feel nervous about such a grand event, but there is no need to worry, I will look after all the practical details.’ She caught Sophie’s desperate look and leaned towards her to murmur, ‘My dear, it is all for the best, you cannot run away now, you must see that.’ She turned to her husband and said, ‘But where are we to hold the wedding breakfast for so many?’

Hal produced another letter. ‘No need to worry, Emma. I wrote to my old friend Lord Sydney to ask him to stand as my groomsman and he has not only accepted, but has offered me the use of Allerthorpe Hall. As you know, it is about four miles outside York. Not only will it accommodate the breakfast, but also Sir George and his family and any of the guests who do not wish to make their own arrangements can stay there.’

Emma clapped her hands. ‘Allerthorpe Hall? Why, Sophie, we could not hope for anything better. I had worried because normally everything could be held at Hal’s seat, Weybourne Rising, in Herefordshire. But Allerthorpe is a beautiful estate and we need not feel the slightest qualm about inviting the Archbishop to the breakfast in such a setting.’

‘Oh, good,’ Sophie said hollowly.

‘We must make arrangements for our wedding clothes as soon as possible,’ Elizabeth said, perking up.

Hal passed Emma a sealed package. ‘I understand from Sir George that this contains a bank draft and a request from Lady Haydon that you arrange Sophie’s trousseau.’

‘Excellent. What about jewellery?’ Emma asked.

‘Oh, yes, Sophie, your brother writes that he will be bringing your mother’s jewels, including the diamond set,’ Hal told her.

Sophie bit back the instinctive, angry words. It would do no good to demand why George had not seen fit to write to her about such a personal issue but, knowing him, why should she be surprised?

‘We have much to plan and do,’ Emma said, sounding delighted at the prospect. ‘But before anything else, Sophie, we must make some lists. Now, I will have a word with Cook about tonight’s dinner and then shall we meet in the breakfast room and make our plans?’ She got to her feet, unconsciously smoothing her gown over the slight swell of her pregnancy and, with a dazzling smile at her husband, left the room.

John beamed back. No wonder he was pleased, Sophie thought. His wife was looking well and was obviously happy, his brother was making his unfortunate match without any of the scandal they had feared and even his worrying little sister had attracted the attention of an unexceptional young cleric. ‘You will forgive me, but I must be off once again. I have a meeting with the Minster Treasurer, Mr Todd. And, Elizabeth, I forgot to tell you with all this excitement – your old school friend, his daughter Jane, asked me if you could come too. I expect you will have a lot to talk about. Come along or I will be late.’

Suddenly the room was very quiet. Sophie fixed her eyes on her clasped hands, aware that the fine hairs on the back of her neck were tingling. Her feelings were in turmoil and Hal’s silent presence only increased that. She loved him. She should be the happiest person in the world because she was going to be his wife in a mere three weeks. But she had already resigned herself to the knowledge that this could never, should never, be. And now she was trapped, with all the doors closing in her face.

Until the arrival of George’s letter she had believed no one else knew and she could run away from Hal just as soon as she found a new escape route. Now all of polite Society would know as soon as the invitations went out. The marriage of a duke was no small thing. How could she run away now?

It was all so difficult, so painful to think about, that she buried the dilemma and allowed her anger with him to rise in its place.

‘Sophie?’

‘On Saturday you described me as – let me see if I can recall this correctly – Ah, yes, headstrong, unladylike and intemperate in my behaviour and informed me that you were as unwilling to marry me as I was to wed you. So what has changed, Hal?’ She got to her feet, leaning with her clenched fists on the table. ‘I have not changed in the course of one Sunday, so why are you suddenly so anxious to walk up the aisle with me in three weeks’ time?’

Hal’s tone was reasonable, which was maddening. ‘You made me very anxious indeed, running away like that, and relief made me express myself more vehemently than I would normally have. I can recall my mother scolding me as fiercely when I had gone missing as a child and she had feared the worst. When I turned up again, grubby but none the worse for the escapade, her anxiety turned to anger.’

If he thought he was placating her, he was mistaken. ‘And you chose to tell me about your correspondence with my brother, about your plans with your friends for my wedding, in front of your whole family without so much as a word to me beforehand.’

Hal got to his feet with a rueful shrug. ‘Well, I knew you would not be pleased, so it seemed the best way to avoid a lot of argument.’

‘Oh!’ Words failed her and all she could do was take several agitated strides up and down the room until she could speak coherently. ‘Yesterday I said you were as bad as George, but I have changed my mind: you are worse than George.’ And then she did something she had not done for years and burst into tears.

Seconds later she was enfolded in a warm embrace, her wet face pressed hard against Hal’s shirt front, her nostrils full of the scent of clean linen, sandalwood and warm man.

‘Stop it,’ Sophie mumbled, not meaning it. She wanted to be in his arms for ever. ‘I am making your shirt all wet.’

‘I don’t care,’ Hal said, his voice muffled as though his mouth were in her hair. She felt his warm hand come up, almost cradling the nape of her neck, and he stroked the skin there until her angry sobs subsided. ‘Look at me, Sophie.’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘My nose will be red.’ She gave a miserable hiccup. ‘It always goes red when I cry. I wish I was like those beautiful women who can weep their heart out and look lovely at the same time.’

Hal gave a snort of laughter. ‘I will think you lovely, Sophie, even with a red nose. Come on, look at me.’

She lifted her face to his and was almost overwhelmed by a wave of love for him. It was so much easier to stick to her resolution to escape when he was being unkind to her, but when he was like this she felt all resistance failing her.

‘You are quite right,’ Hal said with a smile. ‘Your nose is pink. Here, have my handkerchief.’

Sophie took the square of linen and blew her nose. Then what he had said sank in. ‘Do you really think I am lovely?’ she asked, watching him from under wet eyelashes.

‘You know I do,’ he said, his voice suddenly husky. ‘You know what happens when I take you in my arms.’

‘That is nothing to do with anything,’ she said, refusing to be charmed.

‘Well, what about this, then?’ He cupped her face with warm strong hands and kissed the corner of her mouth lightly.

‘No, you cannot get round me like that. And anyway, it is not what I asked you.’

‘Very well. Then I will change my tactics.’ And before she could speak, before she could think even, his warm lips captured her own with a touch that was at first light, then, as she kissed him back, passionate. The tip of his tongue parted her lips and teased her own and she was lost, back on the riverbank in his arms, dappled by the evening light, the scent of crushed grass and herbs in her nostrils.

Hal groaned deep in his throat and shifted his grip on her body, impelling her into the embrace, leaving her in no doubt as to the strength of his arousal. His body was hard and insistent, and Sophie found she had no willpower at all to resist him. She wanted him, he so obviously wanted her, so why fight any more? Why not just give in, lose the only defence she had against this marriage? It would be so easy, she thought hazily as he caught her up in his arms without breaking the kiss, so easy, so very wonderful.