The colonel refolded the message and removed his spectacles. “Not the resounding victory we hoped for. And the battle continues to rage elsewhere. The survivors of the 28th are moving north with the rest of the 5th Division in hopes of defeating Boney there.”
Sophie’s fear must have shown on her face, because the colonel patted her hand. “Chin up, my girl. The captain has lived through worse.”
But Sophie feared the worst—especially knowing about Winnie’s prediction. Because whether the old nurse remembered it clearly or not, Stephen did, and that might affect the outcome. She prayed again for God’s protection, and for Stephen to come home.
Mr. Keith rose, saying he would walk over to Windmere and share the report with Miss Blake. Sophie hoped his visit would not be rebuffed. They had not seen much of Angela since the tense conversation about her marriage prospects. But Sophie guessed that all their neighbors and friends would rally around the Overtree family as this news spread.
Wesley watched Sophie’s face as his grandfather read the report. Seeing her concern for Marsh stilled him, worried him, convicted him, even as he admired her for it. At first, he had suspected her attachment to Marsh was a performance for his family’s sake, but he was shaken to discover her affection for his brother had not been an act. At least not in the end. Her loyalty, however misplaced, was genuine and touching.
He’d also been surprised at CK’s eagerness to take the news to Miss Blake at Windmere. Wesley had noticed Angela had been making herself scarce lately and wondered if she was avoiding Overtree Hall on his account. He decided to be kinder to her in hopes of smoothing things over.
In the afternoon, he continued his painting ofThe Last Supperover the chancel archway. And when he entered the church, he stopped to pray, as he had rarely done before. For Marsh. For Sophie and the child. For patience.
It had been one thing when Wesley thought Marsh was lounging about in a Dublin barracks, ordering men about as he liked to do, and sharing a comfortable mess with fellow officers. But now that Wesley knew his brother was well and truly enmeshed in battle—his life at serious risk—Wesley decided to retreat from Sophie. Give her time and space.
He had offered to help her repair the portrait of Stephen, but she said she preferred to do it herself. It was clear she wanted to be alone—or at least, not alone with him. So that evening Wesley removed his easel and supplies from the old schoolroom and carried them back to his own small studio adjacent to his bedchamber. There he continued to work on his new portrait of Sophie. Now and again, he glanced at the crate in the corner. The crate that represented and concealed his past in Lynmouth. And his love for Sophie Dupont Overtree.
In the white parlour the next day, Sophie and Kate sat reading novels, Kate on the sofa and Sophie in an armchair nearby. Mr. Keith and Miss Blake played the pianoforte together—Angela serving as his second hand. They sat close to one another on the bench, playing and laughing and flirting. Sophie didn’t know what Mr. Keith had said to Angela to bring about the change in her demeanor, or if something else had restored her spirits. Perhaps she simply wanted to be a comforting presence for the Overtree family during an uncertain time. Whatever the case, Angela was once again spending time in Overtree Hall—and at Mr. Keith’s side.
The sight of the two of them together struck Sophie as bittersweet. Sophie was happy for them, but sad for herself. She had never enjoyed a sweet, proper, public courtship. She and Wesley had spent most of their time alone on remote Castle Rock, or hidden away in his cottage. She should have held out for better. Valued herself more highly.
Still the pair were amusing, and Sophie looked from them to Kate with a smile. But the girl did not return the gesture. She turned the page of her novel with little of her usual enthusiasm.
Guessing the reason, Sophie said, “I have not seen Mr. Harrison lately.”
“No. He’s gone to London for the week.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Mr. Nelson told me he’s visiting his old friend, Sir Theodore Terry. He has offered to use his connections to help him find a publisher for his book.”
Sophie studied the girl’s wan expression. “But... is that not good news?” she asked.
Kate shrugged. “If he is successful, I fear he will remain in London for some time.”
“Yes, but if he is successful, will that not go a long way in winning your parents’ approval?”
Kate looked up at her hopefully. “Do you think it might?”
Sophie nodded, and was gratified to see the girl’s customary smile return.
Wesley appeared, hesitating in the doorway. His gaze swung from Sophie and Kate, to Miss Blake and Mr. Keith at the pianoforte.
Kate patted the sofa cushion beside her. “Hello, Wesley. How was your meeting with Mr. Boyle?”
He shrugged and sat down. “All right. Old codger certainly knows how to make a short story long. His daughter has just made him a grandfather twice over—twins named Rachel and Rebekah, of all things.”
“How charming.” Kate turned to Sophie. “That reminds me. Have you given any thought to what you will name your baby?”
Sophie noticed Wesley send her a wary look.
“I... have not yet decided.”
Angela spoke up from behind the piano. “I suppose if it is a girl, you shall name her after yourself? It is traditional in many families.”
“No. I think that would be too confusing,” Sophie replied.
“Yes, it can be. As I know from personal experience.”
