The Heart That Wins (Regency Spies Book 3) (6 page)

Her mother was a different matter. Sophia had long ceased to have any affection for her at all.

When Mrs Arbuthnot was announced, it did not occur to Sophia to refuse to see her; she had known they must meet and she had wanted it to be sooner rather than later. She would have preferred to meet her with John by her side, but it could not be helped. Even meeting her with Edmund or Mary would be better than meeting her alone. At least they would be private here. Sophia could not quite bring herself to wish her mother dead, but there was no point denying that things would have been easier for her father and her sisters if Mrs Arbuthnot had died rather than run away with her lover.

“Sophia, how wonderful to see you after all this time.”

Sophia was shocked by the woman who came into the room. She had expected a demimondaine, but her mother was elegantly and soberly dressed. Her formerly dark hair had faded slightly and her face was lined, but she still resembled the woman whose portrait was in the locket that Sophia’s oldest sister always wore around her neck. It had been a comfort to Lizzie as a child to open it and look at the likeness of the mother who had left them for her lover and Sophia had occasionally glanced at the portrait to remind herself of the face of the woman she hated.

She took a step back, afraid that her mother would advance and kiss her. Mrs Arbuthnot stopped moving towards her and Sophia started to breathe again. The smile on her mother’s face disappeared.

“It is hardly my doing that we haven’t seen one another for fifteen years,” said Sophia, coldly.

“Well, my dear, I invited you to Sway Park often enough.”

Mrs Arbuthnot had lived with her lover at his country house until their debts had forced them to flee to Brussels. Her many letters asking her daughters to visit had embarrassed Sophia and distressed her sisters and her father. Only Lizzie had shown any inclination to visit, but loyalty to their father had prevented it. Sophia thought that her father would not have held it against any of his daughters if they had gone to see their mother, but none of them had done so.

“Was I supposed to chase after you, when you had abandoned us?” she shouted.

“Abandoned you? Nonsense. Everything would have been well if your father had divorced me. Then I could have married Mr Grant. It’s not as if he didn’t have grounds.”

Sophia shuddered. It was scandalous enough that her mother had gone to live with her lover; had she also wanted the circumstances of their affair to be made public?

“People like us don’t divorce.”

“Nonsense. Thanks to him I am living with a man to whom I am not married and my boys... my poor boys...”

“And what of your girls? You abandoned us.”

Sophia could not stop shouting.

“I left your father, not you.”

“You just left the house and didn’t come back. Papa walked the streets to look for you when he found out that the friend you were supposed to be visiting wasn’t even in town. There was gossip about us. And Lizzie… Poor Lizzie had to become mistress of the house. She was nine years old.”

“I know how old she was.”

Sophia did not even hear her.

“Augusta still had a wet nurse. There was talk that she was not my father’s daughter.”

Sophia thought it probable that there was still talk. Augusta alone of the five sisters did not have Mr Arbuthnot’s red hair. When her mother refused to confirm Augusta’s parentage one way or the other, Sophia guessed that her mother did not know which man was the father of her youngest daughter. Sophia knew that such things were common among the aristocracy and the very rich. As long as a man’s heir was his own son, he cared little about who was the father of his wife’s other children. The Arbuthnots, however, were neither aristocracy nor wealthy and, for the most part, neither were their friends. It mattered very much to them that Augusta might not be Mr Arbuthnot’s daughter.

Sophia’s anger grew.

“Won’t you invite me to sit down?”

Ignoring her mother’s request, which, in truth she had barely heard, let alone understood, Sophia continued, “You didn’t even leave a note for my father. We thought you had had some terrible accident.”

“I sent a letter.”

“It arrived three days later!”

Sophia’s voice grew even louder, but she did not care. Only John had ever known her true feelings about her mother’s betrayal. To her father and her sisters she had presented a face of indifference; her anger and tears had been reserved for John. He alone had known how to comfort her. If she had accepted his proposal he would be by her side now. His hand would be at her elbow ready to provide support, should she need it. If she had married John, her mother might not even have dared to try to see her. Despair rose in her and she knew she was about to cry, but she could not let this woman see her cry.

“Sophia, who is your visitor?”

Sophia turned to see Mary enter the room. It seemed her friend had not expected to receive a visitor, for she was carrying a workbasket. Sophia managed to pull herself together in time.

“Mrs Finch, allow me to present Mrs Arbuthnot, my mother.”

Mary neither smiled, nor curtsied. Sophia’s mother did both.

“Mrs Arbuthnot, you are not a woman I expected to call at my house.”

Mary was surprisingly fierce. She and Edmund were used to welcoming all kinds of people into their home in their efforts to gain information; it had not occurred to Sophia that there might be people they would simply refuse to receive. She had been so caught up in her own shame that the full shamelessness of her mother’s visit had escaped her. Edmund and Mary were probably the most respectable people in Brussels and her mother, a woman living with her lover and illegitimate children, had called on them uninvited.

Mrs Arbuthnot drew herself up stiffly, her anger obvious to the younger women.

“I am visiting my daughter.”

“To whom your visit seems to be as unwelcome as it is to me.”

Mrs Arbuthnot blanched.

Mary placed her workbasket on the table and rang for a servant. Nothing was said before the footman entered the room.

“Georges, please show Mrs Arbuthnot out and please tell the other footmen that no one is at home should she call again.”

The footman glanced at Sophia’s mother.

“Wait, she might call herself Mrs Grant. She is not to be allowed entry under that name either.”

Mrs Arbuthnot did not even glance at Sophia before she swept out of the room, followed by Georges.

“Come and sit down,” said Mary, putting her arm through Sophia’s and leading her to a sofa. “That must have been difficult. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you.”

“I didn’t even think about this being your house. Please forgive me for allowing her in.”

“Sophia, if you had been happy to see her, I would have welcomed her, despite her reputation, despite Edmund’s instructions. I heard you shouting at her from the hall.”

A tear dropped from Sophia’s face onto her hand. Impatiently, she wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“It’s unnatural for a daughter to hate her mother,” she said. “You must think me ungrateful.”

“No. Sophia, I can see your mother has caused you much pain.”

“Could you do what she did for love?”

This was a question she had asked herself often over the years. Was her mother wicked, weak or brave?

Mary considered for a moment.

“I have only ever loved Edmund,” she said slowly, “and I cannot imagine him pursuing a married woman.”

“But if you loved another man now, instead of Edmund. Try harder,” she insisted as her friend shook her head.

“I can’t imagine loving a man who would want to take me away from my husband and children. The idea of making Edmund unhappy…”

Mary’s pallor showed that she was giving the question serious consideration. Sophia felt guilty for causing her such pain.

“I can imagine it,” said Sophia. “If I were married to someone else and John... If John came and asked me to go with him I would go.”

“Oh, Sophia.”

“But not if I had children,” added Sophia hastily. “I’d be his lover if he wanted, but John wouldn’t want that. Duty is too important to him and he would do his duty by my husband, however much he loved me. And he doesn’t love me, not anymore.”

Mary put her arms round her and Sophia began to cry. She had not said that she could not marry another man, but it had been her thought. There was no one for her, but John. There would be no husband, no children. Her life would be as Mary’s companion and Edmund’s friend. She would lavish her love on their children and her sisters’ children. The barrenness of her future appalled her, but she would not avoid it.

“Between them, I think John Warren and your mother will give you much cause to grieve over the next few months.”

“The worst is over,” said Sophia wiping the tears from her eyes. “I won’t have to meet my mother for the first time again and I have known since I turned him down that I have lost John’s love.”

“John has treated you badly,” said Mary, gently, “and I do not wish to encourage your hopes, but you do not know that he no longer loves you.”

“He would have written, or said something when we were in Paris. He didn’t even try to talk to me alone that night.”

“As I said, he has treated you badly.”

There was some noise in the hall; Edmund and Franz had returned.

Sophia sat up.

“I can’t…”

Mary went to the door. It opened just as she got there and Sophia heard little of her conversation with her husband. Mary returned and sat beside Sophia again.

“They will not disturb us.”

“But..?”

“Edmund didn’t want to bring you to Brussels, you know that. But you are too useful. He could not send you home.”

“It’s not Edmund…”

Sophia stopped before she could be rude about her friends’ guest.

Mary surprised her by laughing.

“Of course it isn’t. I know you could just as easily cry on his shoulder as mine. Franz is a stranger and we are not used to him. Edmund has spoken to him and he will not bother you again.”

“Does Edmund..? Do you..? Do you hope..?”

“That you will stop loving John and learn to love Franz? We both understand the nature of love better than that. But, my dear, we also know that Captain Warren is not the same man you fell in love with.”

“You think he will be changed?”

“As are you. When he comes to Brussels you will see how changed he is.”              

Sophia considered this. She had known that the army must change him and she had seen him in Paris. She knew that he was not the boy she saw in her mind when she thought of John. He was more completely John than the boy she had known, as she was more completely herself. Despite this she had to face the truth.

“He stopped loving me the day I turned him down.”

Mary was going to say something, then thought better of it. She took Sophia’s hands in hers.

“Until you know his heart, don’t guess.”

Sophia nodded, but John’s heart was already clear to her; he no longer loved her.

Brussels society proved to be exactly what Sophia had expected. It was full of poor and idle people. The British population mixed fairly well with the native Bruxellois, but the latter seemed shocked by the behaviour of the former. Used to the hours kept in London, Sophia was not surprised by balls and parties that went on to the small hours, but Brussels was a town that was used to going to bed early. In many ways the social life was the same as it was in London and she and her friends looked forward to picnics and boating trips in the summer. There were clubs for Edmund and Franz to join, although Edmund was shocked to discover that a literary club of which he had high hopes was nothing more than a gambling club. He joined, nonetheless; gamblers were often desperate men, willing to sell what they knew for a few guilder.

It was not expected that the Finches would be out much; Mary was pregnant and would not be in society at all. Since Edmund and her children were her life, this was no sacrifice for her. Edmund, on the other hand, enjoyed being in society, but his fears about his wife meant that he was more likely to be found at home than anywhere else, although he knew it was unlikely that information would come to him. This meant that Sophia was usually accompanied by Franz when she went out. At first this seemed the perfect arrangement; the handsome Prussian was much in demand and the demand grew as it became known that he, unlike his country, had never supported Bonaparte. Franz took care that he was never alone with Sophia and was careful to ensure that she knew he had done so. Sophia became a little easier in his company again, even though she suspected that it would not be long before he tried to seduce her again.

They were invited everywhere and Sophia accepted as many invitations as she could. They were introduced to a large number of people, some of whom were invited to meet the Finches. This latter group fulfilled their criteria of people they needed to keep an eye on. They expressed vaguely republican ideals and had been unhappy when the United Kingdom of the Netherlands had been created.

Sophia and Franz visited Antwerp and the cathedral at Ghent with some other sightseers whose acquaintance they had made. It was on this trip that she came across the first piece of useful information since they had arrived in Brussels. One of the party mentioned that he knew a Bonapartist sympathiser and Sophia managed to get the name from him without his realising what she had done. Then there were other trips and many new acquaintances. Some of them were invited to dinner parties to allow Edmund to assess what they might or might not know and how useful that information might be. Sophia and Franz would then either get to know their new friends better or drop them discreetly.

Sophia knew that she talked about John to her friends too much for someone who was convinced that he did not love her. She loved him, however, and thought about him a great deal. It was not that Franz suffered when she compared him to John; she never bothered to make the comparison. She loved John and would never love Franz.

Since this was the case, Sophia began to enjoy his company. Despite their linguistic difficulties, they got on well. Sophia had put a lot of effort into learning German and it was not as difficult as she had thought at first and she had help from the Finches. Franz, however, preferred to speak English. It was only polite, he said, for it seemed that half the population of Brussels spoke it. He was unfailingly polite. Sophia came to suspect that he amused himself with other women, under the guise of discovering their loyalties. She thought that Edmund and Mary were too preoccupied to notice that he was sometimes out all night. Edmund could think about little other than the birth of his child and Mary had to rest a great deal. Philippe had not caused her so much discomfort. Sophia caught their concern and joined them in their worry.

One afternoon she sat with Mary while Edmund was out visiting and Franz had gone to the races with a small group of new friends, disappointed that Sophia had declined to join them.

“It’s not that I don’t like him, “Sophia explained to Mary. “He is very good company and his manners are excellent.”

Mary sniffed.

“That is faint praise indeed. Do you think you could finish this off for me?”

She passed across to Sophia the bonnet she had been working on.

Sophia examined it critically. Mary was an excellent teacher and pianist, but her sewing skills left a great deal to be desired. Sophia searched the workbasket for the thread she needed.

“Tomorrow we must go and buy some lace for the trimmings.”

“We?”

Mary was uncertain.

“It will do you good to get out for a while.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I didn’t. You did. I was perfectly happy to talk about Franz.”

“Wouldn’t you rather talk about Captain Warren?”

Mary’s grin was knowing.

“I would, but you have run out of patience with such talk.”

“He will be here soon enough.”

“I hope so. I worry that he will leave it too late and...”

“He promised Edmund he would come. He is a man of his word?”

“Always. He is a man of good character.”

However much John might have changed, this would not. He was completely reliable. It was foolish of her to worry, but still she did.

“I only met him once before we saw him in Paris,” said Mary. “He came to visit Edmund after he had been shot, after Freddie had been kidnapped. He was very angry then.”

“He was very jealous then.”

By the time John had visited Edmund in London he had had no cause to be jealous, but he had not known it.

Sophia smiled. “Poor Edmund. He was pursued by three women at the same time and he only wanted one.”

“Sophia!”

How miserable she had been then, when she had believed that Edmund had loved the Frenchwoman who had turned out to be a spy. Of course, Mary had been miserable too. Even now Sophia was not sure how Edmund could have been so confused about his own feelings. The three of them never discussed it.

“Don’t worry. I was cured the day I heard that John had joined the army. And there’s no point saying it wasn’t my fault. I know that it was.”

“It wasn’t entirely your fault. He made the mistake of asking you at the wrong time. A month or two later...”

“No,” said Sophia sadly. “It was only after I refused him that I knew I loved him.”

“You should have written to him.”

“What could I have said? Dear John, I am in hiding with the Finches. I love you, but I don’t know when I’ll see you again.” She shook her head. “Anyway, I did write. Lord Meldon took my letter to him.” She wiped away a tear that had fallen unexpectedly onto her cheek. “I begged him to come back. I told him I had been hasty. He didn’t come back and he didn’t reply. He never replied.”

That had been the worst time she had ever known. She had expected John to return with Lord Meldon and when he had not, she had known that he did not love her anymore. Because of her he had joined the army and when he was killed it would be her fault. If he had written, she would at least have known that they could be friends, but there had been nothing. His silence had almost destroyed her.

“It would have seemed cowardly for him to leave the army,” said Mary.

“His uncle went to him with the sole purpose of bringing him home. He was never meant to be a soldier. Lord Meldon had been a soldier and he didn’t think it would be cowardly for John to come back.”

“He will be here soon,” Mary said again.

“But he doesn’t love me!”

“Oh, my dear, you don’t know that.”

“He was so cold that day at the embassy. We hadn’t seen one another for almost three years and he didn’t smile or tell me what he’d done or ask where I’d been. He was only interested in my report.”

“Then he puts his duty first.”

“We used to be friends.”

“You’re both older now.”

Sophia sighed.

“You have an answer for everything.”

“I never thought it possible that Edmund could love me, but he did. We both did and said some foolish things and it seemed for a while that he was in love with someone else. I learned to be content with small things and you must learn that lesson, too.”

“What sort of small things?”

“Do you remember the first evening Freddie played to us?”

Sophia remembered it well. It had been part of Freddie’s education. She had been invited to tea with Edmund when Mary was no more to him than Freddie’s governess.

“Yes, I remember.”

“That was the first time I played while Edmund sang. He was happy and I had made him happy, so I was content.”

Was love made up of such small things then? Could Sophia be content to know that she had made John happy? She doubted it. When she had loved Edmund, she had not been content to be with him; she had wanted to know that her love was returned and she had wanted to be his wife.

“We used to discuss books that we had read,” Mary continued. “I read so many books just because I had seen him look at them in the library. He valued my opinion.”

“And you were happy with that?”

Mary’s smile was radiant.

“All I wanted was to stay in that house with Edmund and Freddie. I would love him no less because he didn’t love me, or because he was married to someone else.”

Sophia remembered that this had been a possibility. Could Mary really have stayed in Edmund’s house knowing that he shared his bed with another woman?

“You saw John that night in Paris...”

“I think he is still your friend, at least.”

“And I must be content with that?”

Sophia considered for a long time, making careful stitches in the bonnet.

“No,” she said as she handed the bonnet back for Mary’s inspection, “I can’t.”