Miss Sophie's Secret (23 page)

Before Sophie realized what Jonathan was doing, he was kissing her. For a moment the rest of the world swirled and disappeared and the only thing that existed was the feel of his lips on hers. She should have pushed him away. But the shock of his kiss, the wonderful, bedazzling shock of it, left her breathless. She felt her head buzz and her toes curl, and everything in between quiver with delight.

Then she realized what she was doing, and with whom she was doing it.

“No, stop,” she mumbled as she turned her head away.

“You’re so very beautiful, Sophie,” he murmured in her ear.

She sniffled. “I’ll never love anyone but you, Jonathan.”

“Don’t cry, my darling,” he said softly.

But she couldn’t help herself. “Even before I realized that you were Vaile . . . even then I’d gladly have shared a life of poverty with you,” she sobbed. “If only you were not my brother.”

“What!” he cried, bounding to his feet and scattering clothing and hay in every direction. “What’s that you say?”

She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, raised herself on an elbow and repeated her statement. “If only you were not my brother.”

“Where in God’s name did you get such a cork brained notion?”

“From Aunt Ruth.”

He jammed his fists on his hips. “How could I possibly be your brother?”

 “Aunt Ruth thinks you may be one of Lord Reginald’s . . .” She frowned. “What did she call it?
Blow-by
? That’s what her messenger is investigating. I believe she’s hoping to prove herself wrong.”

Jonathan sat down beside her. “Is that what all this nonsense has been about?

Why didn’t she confide in me? Or just ask me? I could have told her—”

Sophie’s gasp cut him off. Everything came together in her mind—all the secrecy and the evasions and the silly name games. She strained to hear as erratic childhood memories of whispered conversations that had ceased when she entered the room came back to her, and she suddenly understood the mystery that surrounded her birth.

“Lord Reginald is
my
father!” she cried.

A deep voice from the other side of the loft demanded, “Can’t a man get a decent night’s sleep around ’ere?”

“Who are you?” Jonathan growled.

Rustling ensued as a dim form rose out of the hay and came toward them. “I be th’ stable ’and, Daniel Griffin. Who be you?”

“My name is Jonathan Gray, and this is my cousin, Sophie.” He stood to meet the man halfway. “I wonder if you could possibly help us. We’re stranded on this side of the river and need to find a way back to Berkeley Square.”

To his credit, the stable hand didn’t ask how they’d come to be stranded. He simply stuffed hands in the pockets of his woolen trousers and said, “Berkeley Square be a fur piece in this snow.”

“I’ll give you ten pounds if you can provide a cart and drive us there,” Jonathan told him.

“Ten pounds!” Daniel whistled. “Why, that be a small fortune.”

“I’ll give you five pounds now as down payment.” Jonathan fished in his pocket. After a moment he began to fumble with his belt. “Those damned villains!” he spat. “They’ve stolen my purse and my watch and my seals.”

He turned to Sophie. “I hope you have some money left in your reticule.”

She put a hand to her mouth. “I have no reticule. I left it in the snow back at the inn. What shall we do?”

 Daniel waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry, sir, I trust ye. Now, c’mon along,” he urged as he pulled on a heavy sweater over his shirt. “There’s a cart in the stable we can use. We should be outta ’ere afore the mornin’ light.”

In no time, Jonathan and Sophie were back in their warm outerwear. Daniel led them down the ladder and told Sophie to take a seat on a bale of hay while Jonathan loaded the cart with loose hay and he harnessed a sturdy brown workhorse to pull it. At one point he opened the stable door a little and looked out into the night. The sky to the east had lightened, but the snow was still falling steadily.

“It’s good,” he said, closing the door. “No one be up yet and th’ snow’ll cover our tracks.”

Daniel excused himself and disappeared into the back of the stable. When he came out a few minutes later he was wearing a knitted cap and gloves. In each of his hands he carried a chunk of bread with slices of beef sandwiched in the center.

“It’s what’s left of th’ supper me missus sent with me,” he told them. “I thought ye’d be ’ungry and divvied it atween ye.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sophie said.

Jonathan nodded. “Indeed.”

Daniel pointed to a bucket standing off to the side. “There be clean water and a dipper in there.”

Sophie and Jonathan each took a drink.

“Now, come along,” Daniel said. “Ye can eat in th’ cart. We’ve a ways to go afore Berkeley Square.”

Jonathan and Sophie climbed into the cart while Daniel opened the stable door. After digging out a place for Sophie in the loose hay, Jonathan burrowed in beside her. Daniel pulled the reins in through a slit in the wagon frame and clucked to his horse, who leaned into the traces and began to move the conveyance forward. Once they were outside, Daniel clambered out and shut the doors. Finally, they were off.

After Sophie finished her sandwich, she began to feel drowsy. She leaned against Jonathan and drifted off to sleep. She woke for a minute when they were crossing the river. Hearing the two men talking softly together, she fell back asleep. She roused as they started along the thoroughfare and was surprised to see that the sky was fully light.

“Stay down,” Jonathan said when she struggled to sit up. “And keep your bonnet pulled down as far as possible and your coat collar up around your chin. It’s imperative that no one recognizes you, or your good name will be utterly ruined.”

She did as he bade, tugging one down and the other up. While she had been asleep, a thick coating of snow had covered them. She began to lift the hay in quick, jerking motions, flipping the snow onto the ground. Before she lay back down, she turned around briefly to look at the horse and saw that steam was rising steadily from its back.

Other wagons were making their way along the street. A lofty pile of timbers was moving ahead of them, swaying precariously from side to side. Crates of clucking chickens and quacking ducks on their way to market rode behind them.

“Do you think Albert is looking for us?” Sophie asked.

Jonathan shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’ll be looking for him shortly.”

“Do you intend to capture him and bring him to justice?”

“Certainly. He needs to be locked away where he can’t pay to have someone harmed or try to force his will on others.”

She thought a minute. “What about the innkeeper?”

“Him, too,” he said in no uncertain terms.

“And Miss Baxter?”

“I believe her current circumstances are punishment enough.”

It wasn’t too much longer before they had passed through the humbler sections of the city and found themselves entering Berkeley Square.

“Fortunately we’re arriving unobserved,” Jonathan said as they drew into the courtyard of Vaile House. “This wretched weather has kept everyone close to his fireside.”

“Coo!” Daniel breathed as he stopped the cart at the foot of the front steps. “Do this be yer ’ouse, m’lord? Ye mus’ be a duke.”

“No,” Jonathan said, smiling. “Now I want you to take your horse around to the mews and then come inside so that we can arrange some things for you. Ask for Edmund McCoy.”

He scrambled out and, shaking the hay from his clothes, turned to help Sophie to the ground. Her legs ached from her long, arduous walk in the snow, and the next thing she knew, she pitched forward into the courtyard and her bonnet fell back, letting her hair cascade to her shoulders. Fortunately, Jonathan caught her in his arms and scooped her up.

The front door opened. Lady Biskup stood on the top step, weeping with relief as they came up the stairs. Jonathan set Sophie on the ground and they all rushed together, throwing their arms around each other, hugging and professing their love.

 Suddenly Lady Biskup shivered. “Come inside and tell me everything that’s happened.”

They mounted the stairs and hurried into the vestibule, where Tom assisted his master and a weeping Anna helped her mistress out of her coat and boots.

“We was sure you was dead, Miss Sophie,” she sniffled. “Johnnie Aysgarth and me was heartbroke.”

“Yes,” Lady Biskup agreed. “Where on earth have you been? Nicky and Fairmont took a veritable army of men down to the river last night. They were rummaging about until dawn, trying to find you, with no success.”

“It’s a long story,” Jonathan told her. “And if Leeds will provide us with some nice hot tea, we’ll retire to the yellow salon where we can sit down and talk a bit.”

He ushered Lady Biskup and Sophie into the salon and closed the door. “Now you must tell me everything, Aunt. What is this nonsense about Sophie and me being brother and sister? It’s impossible, you know.”

Lady Biskup folded her hands in her lap. “My dear boy, I feared that you were not Matthew’s son, but Reginald’s. I believed that he might have falsified your birth records in order to make you his heir.”

“You’re speaking in the past tense,” he noticed.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “My solicitor returned last night from Bellingsward, where he spoke with the retired surgeon who was attached to your father’s regiment when you were born.”

“Major Myles showed him proof, I assume?”

“His medical log, listing your name and your parents’ names.”

They said no more while Leeds oversaw the serving of their tea.

“Now,” Jonathan said when the servants had exited the salon, “how exactly would my being Lord Reginald’s son make Sophie my sister?”

“She is Reginald’s child,” Lady Biskup replied.

“I told you so!” Sophie said on a note of triumph. “And my mother?”

“My sister, Pamela, was your mother.”

Jonathan frowned. “But wouldn’t I have known your sister?”

Lady Biskup shook her head. “Pamela died when Sophie was three years old—well before Reginald brought you back from India.”

“Then I do remember her!” Sophie cried as she sorted through memories that were somewhat blurred by time. “She was the beautiful lady who leaned over me and smiled.”

“Yes,” Lady Biskup said, and began mopping at her eyes again.

“But . . .” Sophie bit her lip. “If I’m Lord Reginald’s daughter, why did he make such a mystery of it?”

Lady Biskup reached over to take her niece’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “Because you’re”—she lowered her voice—“illegitimate, my dear. Reginald was unable to marry your mother, much to her sorrow.” She shook her head unhappily. “He made a dreadful mistake when he married Emma—I don’t believe they were able to endure each other’s company for more than a few weeks. But she flatly refused to give him his freedom and allow him to marry Pamela.”

She sighed and sat back. “Such a tragedy! Such a hideous blot on our family name if it had become known. And Pamela never seemed to be aware of the enormity of her crime, such a charming, lighthearted girl. ‘All will come right in the end, Ruth,’ she used to say to me. I pleaded with her and with Reginald to use discretion. But they refused to heed me. They allowed their love to triumph over their judgment. When Pamela discovered she was with child, Reginald hid her in the Dower House—he couldn’t bear to be separated from her.”

She touched her handkerchief to her watery eyes before continuing. “One day Pamela went for a stroll on the beach, and when she returned, she was feeling ill. Before morning she was dead. Reginald was inconsolable. Only then did Emma agree to a divorce.”

Jonathan scowled out a snow-swept window. “But you were wrong not to tell Sophie the truth, Aunt Ruth. I can’t see why you and Lord Reginald held it back from her all these years. Have you any idea what torture you’ve put her through?”

“But if we’d confided in her, it would have been the same as announcing it to the world.” Lady Biskup turned to her niece and gave her hand another squeeze. “You’re the dearest creature in the world, my sweet, and I love you with all my heart. But you’re also the most innocent and frank, and you would certainly have confided your awful secret long ago—perhaps to Jeanette or to another friend—and would now be a pariah in the eyes of the ton. Reginald and I were determined that you were to have an opportunity to contract a proper marriage without being required to suffer for the indiscretions of your parents.”

Jonathan nodded thoughtfully. “I can see some logic in that, I must admit.”

“You must never divulge the truth, either of you,” Lady Biskup cautioned them. “In addition to ruining your own life, Sophie, you would blacken your mother’s name. And you’d draw the scorn of society to dear Reginald.”

“My parents’ secret will die with me,” Sophie vowed in a solemn voice.

“Now, you must tell me everything that happened last night, both of you.” Lady Biskup barely stifled a yawn. “But first we should all have a little lie-down.”

* * * *

Shortly before tea Jeanette and Fairmont paid a call with Nicky and Ellen. At the sight of Sophie, Jeanette’s lips began to tremble, and the two girls rushed into each other’s arms, Jeanette weeping freely into Sophie’s hair and Sophie eventually joining her in stifled sobs. Lady Biskup sat on a settee, fluttering her handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes. Fairmont stood in front of the fireplace speaking in an undertone with Jonathan and Nicky.

When eyes had been dried and everyone was again breathing normally, Fairmont asked Sophie if she would be willing to recount her adventures again.

“If it is not too painful for you,” he added.

“Certainly not,” she assured him. “The truth must be known so that there won’t be other victims of this dreadful den of thieves.”

Leaving the others to assume she had followed Miss Baxter at Albert’s behest, she proceeded to describe what she’d found at the inn. An occasional squeak of fresh horror from Lady Biskup and shudders from Jeanette and Ellen punctuated her story. During the tale Jonathan remained by the fireplace, his face growing sterner by the minute.