My Dear Sophy (13 page)

“
Well, he did finally leave us and move along to the next anchored ship, but every time we've taken on wine since then, one of the men has come aboard saying, 'Ello, der! I 'ave-a brought de wine fo' you!'”

There had also been a raucous tale of a burly ship's cook that had scared all the young midshipmen on their first day aboard ship that had kept them all laughing for an hour. In the captain's hands, the stories came to life. Sophy felt like she knew these people, had talked to them, had been there to witness these stories in the making. They laughed all afternoon as he kept them entertained.

Inevitably, Freddy had asked about the battles he'd been in. And Sophy – who had been so carefully observing the captain – saw something in him change. It wasn't quite noticeable outwardly. He still had the same energy and humor and vigor in his tales. He still painted the characters of his story in the most vivid way. No one else in the party seemed to notice that his eyes didn't hold the same sparkle as a few moments ago. They seemed shadowed. And his brow showed signs of tension.

Sophy lost track of the story as she studied his face more closely. Connie was not an old man – twenty-seven by his own avowal – but when she looked carefully at him, Sophy could see the strain of the battles he'd fought. She saw the tanned skin – much too tan to be quite fashionable, but it gave him an air of adventure. From her place in a chair not too far away from him, Sophy could see the muscles of his solid, square jaw work as he talked. His teeth were impossibly white next to his tanned skin. His lips a light shade of pink. He moistened them unconsciously as he told his stories. There were lines around his mouth that spoke of tension. They had not been there when he had told about the wine merchant.

Sophy watched Captain Croft like this until he turned to look at her, including her in the story. She'd been staring at him again in a most bold way, like she had done yesterday. It took Sophy a moment to register that he was looking at her and had caught her boldly evaluating him once again. When she managed to bring her eyes up to his, she realized that he had caught her. Those lips she had been studying so carefully quirked into a smile that brought a light blush to her face. How mortifying! He had caught her blatantly staring! Again! But it seemed to amuse him, as if he could read the thoughts on her face. After a moment of hesitation, Sophy simply accepted that he had caught her and she smiled back at him.

They locked eyes for a moment and she was heartened to see that the shadow that had been upon him since he began talking about the war had left him. Sophy wasn't sure what exactly had happened or why her blood had sped up in her veins at his look, but her heart had lifted to see the shadow disappear. She was not quite sure why it affected her as it did and now was not the time to ponder it further. And so she turned her full attention back to the merry party before her and the lovely prospect of more hours together.

The next few days brought the families into even closer company, though scarcely an afternoon hour passed without the interruption of a neighbor or two come to pay a visit and meet Milverton's hero. For that is what the captain had become since entering the village in such fashion. The town had passed around heavily embellished stories of Captain Croft's valiant derring-do in the war. He appeared to be a modern Hercules, though he had faced a hundred more trials than the mythical strong man.

During these visits, Sophy watched Captain Croft laugh off the tales and attempt to correct his neighbors when he could. At moments that shadow that had so intrigued and concerned her on Sunday afternoon returned like a rain cloud over his head. He was not comfortable with the mantle of a hero draped across his shoulders and seemed to want to shrug it off. The more the townspeople tried to cast him in that role, the more he withdrew into himself. The villagers didn't want to see it, having already determined to beatify him.

Freddy and Edward had also deified the captain, thinking of him as their newest hero. Not someone out of a book, but a real live hero come to sit in their parlor and tell exciting stories of the world outside of Milverton. His parents also thought that their son could do no wrong. They loved him and were simply glad to be back in his company. Sophy herself might have fallen into this category had she not been so closely observing the visitor and seen that hint of something else underneath the outgoing and charismatic man in his naval uniform.

As Captain Croft was the constant center of attention, Sophy had had no opportunity of speaking with him. Not as she had done on that first day when he had turned Freddy around. Since then, Sophy had been waiting for a chance to speak with him again. She hadn't realized it until Monday and Tuesday came and went – like Sunday – without the opportunity. A few times he had turned to her in a quiet moment and begun to speak. But each time they had been interrupted by a question from one of the boys or the appearance of another guest.

The second time this had happened, she thought she saw his brow crease for a moment with annoyance. She had recognized it because his feeling mirrored her own. It was the promise of an edifying conversation out of reach. Sophy wanted to talk with this interesting man. And not only about the adventures he had seen. Captain Croft must have so many opinions and thoughts. He was a man who had traveled the world, had seen other lands and peoples. And he had a gift for telling about them.

Sophy longed to ask him questions. There was something about the stories and the characters he talked about in company that had become unsatisfying for her. She still listened keenly, eager for all she could absorb about the people he had met or the places he had been that she would never see. Sophy was unsure why she felt this way, but as the days passed without a chance to talk only to him, she grew anxious and a bit irritable, as if she wanted him all to herself and was jealous of the attention he bestowed on others. Though she kept quiet, her thoughts towards the others were becoming uncharitable. She disliked the time they took away from her opportunities of speaking with him.

This was an entirely new feeling for Sophy and she was not quite sure how to temper her thoughts or how to find a way to speak to him alone. So she waited, as patiently as she could, for an opportunity to take what she desired.

Sophy reflected on this feeling as she walked homeward from her visits. As usual, her Wednesday morning had been full of the normal rounds to all of her friends in Preston-Bowyer. Sophy had heard all of the latest gossip and was obliged to share her own stories of Saturday's events. Everyone wished to know about the handsome naval captain. Of course, many had known the captain as a boy, and so she heard some delightful stories about his youth: like how he and his brothers had once let all of Mr. Brookman's sheep out of the pen. And then had to spend all night rounding them up once the deed had been discovered. Or how someone had dared him to jump into the river from the tallest tree branch and he had done it without a second thought. Or how he and his brothers had scared superstitious old Mrs. Mackenzie by hiding outside of her cottage one evening and pretending to be ghosts. Sophy spent the morning listening to Connie's childhood antics fondly recalled by the people who remembered, and answering questions about what he had been up to for fourteen years.

So her Wednesday morning had passed without any time for Sophy to stop and think. Indeed, with all the excitement of the visitor, she had had little time to herself. Since she was used to hours alone each day, Sophy found the constant company to be somewhat overwhelming.

Now that her visiting was over, she headed back through town and toward the Old Mill. It was the opposite direction to the hamlet, but then, she had less chance of seeing someone who would want to stop and chat with her. She needed some time to walk and some space to let her confused thoughts go free.

She had started to outline her feelings in a very practical way, when her thoughts were interrupted by a noise that seemed curiously out of place in this quiet part of the town. It was coming from the pond near the Old Mill. Sophy started toward the noise, trying to puzzle out what it could be.

As she drew closer, the sound became more distinct. Sophy almost laughed aloud when she finally placed what it was. Someone was singing! A rich, baritone voice carried through the trees, singing a boisterous song she'd never heard before. She heard the words long before she saw who was singing them. He – for it was a he, of course – sang,

Ye gentlemen of England who live home at your ease

It's little do you think of the dangers of the seas

When we receive our orders, we are obliged to go

On the main to proud Spain where the stormy winds do blow

It was an upbeat melody that settled pleasantly in her head. But what struck her the most was the singer's air of joyous abandon. Farmers around here sang all the time at their work. But she had never heard a voice like this. No, that was wrong. She
had
heard this voice before. Once. Though it was ringing out in song, Sophy stepped around the final trees and made her presence known. And it was exactly who she had expected. A smile lit her face.

“
Captain!”

The man whirled on her as on an enemy. He was startled from his song and ready to attack the intruder. But he soon recognized Sophy and his face lit in a grin that answered hers.

“
Miss Wentworth!” Captain Croft's posture relaxed now that the threat was gone. “You startled me. I'm afraid I was quite carried away by song and forgot to listen for any enemy intruders.” They both laughed.

The sound of his laughter made her glow. Sophy spoke to the captain in a teasing way, as she might speak to a friend she had known all her life.

“
I hope you do not consider
me
an enemy, sir.” Sophy smiled mischievously. “For I would hate to force you into battle and then rout you soundly. It might wound your manly pride.” She was trying to provoke him, she realized. They were alone for the first time since Saturday and she wanted to see what he would do. There was something roguish in his eyes at this moment that made her believe he would willingly enter into her spirit of fun and flirtation.

“
My manly pride?” Captain Croft guffawed. “My dear Miss Wentworth, you have two brothers. Surely you must know that manly pride endures all. Indeed, in twenty-seven years mine has survived many a set down and lived to fight another day. There is not much you might do to wound it irreparably.” He was teasing her, playing with her words in a way that made her smile and know they were in harmony.

“
Truly?” Sophy raised her eyebrows in mock incredulity. “We shall have to see about that.”

“
That sounds distinctly like a challenge, madam.” He reached out his arm to help her down the small incline. Sophy took his hand, suddenly aware that the captain was without his coat and, in the heat of midday, had undone his collar and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. It was nothing she had not seen many times from the men in town, but those sights had never sparked the heat that now rose up inside of her. She placed her hand in his, aware of its warmth and strength, and stepped down to the bank. His sun-darkened skin made hers look pale, even though she was notoriously unmindful of her skin in the sun. The muscles in his forearm worked gently as he held her hand and helped her step down. The subdued strength made her feel secure, even in such a small action.

“
If it is a battle for manly honor that you are after, Miss Wentworth, might I challenge you to a duel? I have only this moment been practicing my stone skipping. So I should warn you that my skills are at their peak. Should you accept, you will be at a decided disadvantage.”

Sophy was already looking about her for good skipping stones. “Think what you wish, sir,” she threw over her shoulder at him, “but I hold that it is
you
who will be at a disadvantage!”

“
Challenge accepted, then?”

“
With alacrity!” Sophy turned and gave him a small curtsey before they both set off again to look for stones. A few minutes later, and with pockets heavy with grenades for their mock battle, they met back at the starting point.

“
All right, Miss Wentworth,” Captain Croft said with overly formal tones. “Let us skip our stones and see who shall be the victor and rightful possessor of 'manly pride'.”

“
And who shall throw the first volley in our battle?”

“
Oh, by all means, ladies first,” The captain gave an elaborate bow. The twinkle in his eye made Sophy laugh.

“
I shall take my advantage, sir, and beat you at your own game.” Sophy pulled a stone from her pocket and wiped it free of dirt. She turned it over and over in her hand, feeling it to determine which way would make for the most advantageous throw. As she did this, she squinted out over the still water of the pond, calculating the best way to pitch.

“
Well, what are you waiting for?” Captain Croft broke in to her preparations. “This isn't a chess match.” Sophy saw the gleam in his eye. He was trying to goad her!

“
I see what you are trying, captain, and I am determined that it will not work.” He raised his eyebrows skeptically. Clearly, he thought she would be unequal to a little teasing. He forgot that she had brothers who had done much worse.