The Reckoning (53 page)

‘
Perhaps he persuaded her to agree – oh dear! But that
would mean he really did care for me, which would be
shocking.'

‘
Have you any idea of it?'

‘
None. I never thought of it. He asks me to dance every
time, but then so do they all.'

‘
Yes, they do, don't they?' Héloïse said thoughtfully. 'Well,
don't worry. This letter doesn't sound love-lorn to me. You
shall write your reply after breakfast, and that will be the end
of that. Where do you go this morning?'

‘
To the Exchange, with Agnes and her brother. And this
afternoon Mr Farraline calls for me in his curricle. He said
he'd teach me to drive a pair.'

‘
That will put your father's nose out of joint,' Héloïse
smiled.

*

Sophie thought Mr Henry Droylsden, brother of Agnes's
husband, was the most pleasant of the young men she had
met, apart from Mr Farraline. He was good-natured, quieter
and more thoughtful than his peers, and had read a great deal
more. This was perhaps partly because he was slightly lame,
relic of a childhood disease which had laid him up for several
years when other boys were playing cricket and falling out of
trees.

When Sophie joined him and Agnes in Agnes's smart new
barouche, he greeted her with a friendly smile, and took the
pull-down seat facing her, fixing his eyes on her face with
quiet intensity as Agnes plunged instantly into full flow.

‘
What a love of a hat! Sophie dear, you do manage to look
so very striking with so little in the way of decoration! I wish I
had your knack. It would take me ten feathers and a dozen spangled ribbons to make my head as interesting as yours.
Now tell us at once, has Fred put the question? Harry says he
was saying last night he meant to do it today, and Percy's
groom told my maid that he'd seen Fred go out on horseback
early this morning, so it must have been something important
because normally he never gets up before noon, does he,
Harry?'

‘
Not unless there's an earthquake,' Henry said in his droll
way. 'That's why he don't hunt, you know – foxes have a
frightful habit of leaping out of bed at dawn.'

‘
So did he call, dearest Sophie? And what did he say? I
depend on you to tell me
everything,
because Prudence is far
too discreet, and will only tell me to mind my own business,
which is nonsense, because it is my business if my own
brother proposes to my best friend. So tell, please – every
detail.'

‘
I don't know if I ought –' Sophie began, upon which
Henry gave a shout, and Agnes clapped her hands together in
glee.

‘He did call, then! You were right, Hal!'

‘No, he didn't call,' Sophie said. 'He sent a letter –’

Again she was interrupted, this time by laughter. 'A letter?
Oh the dull dog!' Henry crowed.

‘
No, really! Oh Sophie, I ought to apologise for the honour
of my family! But what did it say? Have you it with you? Oh I
die to read it! I'll bet Mama wrote most of it for him, though.' Her smile was replaced suddenly with a look of anxiety. 'You
did refuse him?'

‘Yes, I did.'

‘
Thank God!' Agnes said, fanning herself with exaggerated
relief. 'Much as I long to have you as a sister – but as to that, you know there's more than one way to skin a mule. What do
you say, now, to Harry?’

Sophie met Mr Henry Droylsden's eyes involuntarily, and
then lowered hers with a deep blush. 'Please, Agnes,' she
began in a muted protest.

‘Annie, you go too far,' Henry put in sternly.

But Agnes was irrepressible. 'No, but seriously! Now,
Harry, do be quiet, and let me put your case for you, because
you know I'll do it better than you. I'm a female myself, and
know how to put these things. Sophie, attend! Here is my
dear brother-in-law, the nicest, most sensible man in the
world, and the next best tempered after my own Percy, whom
I wouldn't part with for the world. Now Harry is a handsome
boy, speaks pretty, plays the violin like an angel, and rides
like a perfect fiend, and Papa Droylsden will come down
handsome with a settlement when he marries, if you care for
that sort of thing.'

‘Annie, you're outrageous!'

‘
But you see she doesn't say no – do you, Sophie? Oh you
shy thing, all I can see is the tip of your ear, and that's as red
as a rose! But don't you think Harry's nice? I do – and I can
tell you that he's mad in love with you, and only wants a little encouragement to speak for himself!'

‘Oh please,' Sophie managed to say in protest, but Mrs Droylsden chose mischievously to misinterpret it.

‘
There, Hal, you see, she wants you to make love to her.
Now don't sit there like a perfect stock — here's your chance to close the deal, as Papa Droylsden says. Miss Morland, he's
every inch the gentleman, and has no bad habits in or out of
the house. As to his lameness, why it's only a trifle —’

Sophie looked up, alarmed, saying, 'Oh no, please, I would
not — I never for a moment —' She met Henry's eyes, and saw
that he was perfectly comfortable, smiling at his sister's
nonsense without embarrassment, and with a kind look for
Sophie in her confusion.

‘
I beg you will not let my wicked sister upset you, Miss
Morland. No, Annie, not another word! You need pay no
attention to anything she says, I assure you. If you really have
refused Fred Pendlebury, I shall make my own declaration in
the proper form and —' with a stern glance at Agnes — 'at a
moment of my choosing.’

Sophie was distressed. 'But I don't want to marry anyone,'
she blurted foolishly.

Agnes looked concerned. 'What, no-one at all? Was your heart really broke, then, when your betrothed was killed at
Waterloo? Albertine told me the story, but I thought that was
her romance and nonsense.'

‘
Annie, you're being impertinent,' Henry said quietly.
‘You're upsetting Miss Morland.'

‘
Am I? Oh dear, I didn't mean to,' she said contritely.
‘Please forgive me, dearest Sophie. You know what a chatter-
head I am. I don't mean anything by it. You shan't marry if
you don't want to,' she added comfortingly, which made
Sophie smile in spite of her shaken sensibilities.

‘Thank you,' she said.

‘
All the same,' Agnes went on, irrepressibly, 'I'll wager you
take the divine Mr Farraline in the end, for who could refuse him — even though Harry is probably nicer — and you can't
want to end up an old maid like poor Prudence. And now I
really won't say another word.’

*

At the Exchange they were met by Mr Percy Droylsden, who
had abandoned his room at his father's bank for the much more pleasant occupation of walking with his pretty wife
amongst the stalls of ribbons and fans and gloves and stock
ings. Henry offered Sophie his arm, and they strolled happily
along the rows, pausing every few yards to examine the goods
or chat with their acquaintance.

It was soon evident that Fred Pendlebury's proposal was
known all over Manchester, and the news of his rejection
spread outwards from the Droylsden party like ripples from a
stone. Sophie had the embarrassment of listening to her
affairs being talked about with an almost childlike lack of
inhibition.

‘
It's my belief he knew she'd say no — otherwise why did he
ride off this morning?'

‘Where did he go? Does anyone know?'

‘
Oh yes, he went over to his aunt's at Broughton Park.
Philip Spicer saw him. He's trying to sell a horse to his
cousin.'

‘
What, that black gelding with the iron mouth? It's only fit
for the knacker's yard!'

‘
Never mind the horse — that was just an excuse, don't you
see?'

‘
But if Miss Morland had taken him, he wouldn't have
been there to receive her acceptance.'

‘Well, precisely. So it must mean he knew she'd say no.'

‘
Nonsense! Fred Pendlebury's so conceited he'd never
believe anyone would refuse him. He'll ask you again, Miss
Morland, depend on it.'

‘
Have you heard Jack Withington's saying he asked her
first?'

‘Is he? Did he, Miss Morland?'

‘
You did well to refuse him, Miss Morland. He's got the
worst seat on a horse of anyone I've ever seen.'

‘
Now Farraline's a first-rate man over the sticks. You never
see his horses lathered up at the end of the day, like
Withington's.'

‘
But Farraline don't ride more than eleven stone.
Withington must come in at sixteen, without the saddle!'

‘Still, you'd do better to take Farraline, Miss Morland
It was with enormous relief that Sophie saw Mr Hobsbawn coming towards her. The Exchange was a large building, and
built on the corner of Market Street and Cross Street, two
main thoroughfares, with lanes running along the other two
of its sides. It was therefore frequently used as a short-cut
between streets – one of the reasons it was said that if one
walked about the Exchange for long enough, one would even
tually meet everyone one knew.

Sophie hadn't seen him since the rout at Batchworth
House. She had been out on the occasions he had called on
her mother on business, and she had not been to the mission,
or had time to pursue her desire to visit the tenements. Seeing
him again, she realised how much she had missed him, and
wished fervently for a long, sensible, and quiet conversation
with him, instead of having this swell of frantic chatter all
around her.

‘Oh, Mr Hobsbawn!' she greeted him gladly.

‘
Miss Morland.' His face was grave. 'I hope you're enjoying
your stay in Manchester? I think you must be – whenever I
see you, you are at the centre of a crowd.'

‘
Am I? But you haven't seen me since the Batchworth
rout.'

‘
Not so, ma'am. I've seen you several times, though I don't suppose you've seen me. I was never able to get close enough
to you to pay my compliments.’

He was offended, she thought – but about what? They had
been on such good terms at the rout, when she had last seen
him. 'I'm afraid I've been out when you've called at Hobs
bawn House,' she began tentatively.