How relieved we all were to learn you are alive. You cannot know how we worried and prayed and grieved during those dark days when you were missing and presumed dead. Mr. Nelson offered prayers of thanksgiving in church yesterday, and we all continue to pray for your recovery.
I hope Carlton Keith arrived safely and without delay. We were all so grateful that he offered to travel to Brussels to see that everything is being done for you that may be. And if it is possible to bring you home, so that we might nurse you here at Overtree Hall under the care and direction of Dr. Matthews. Several in your family vied for the honor of coming to your bedside—myself among them, your grandfather most vocal of all—but various factors, such as your grandfather’s age and my condition, caused us to be overruled.
You have probably heard by now that Wesley is here. You should know that he volunteered for the duty as well, saying it would only be right as you have so often come to his aid. But in the end, Mr. Keith made an impassioned argument that he should be the one to undertake the journey.
I feel I should say what I hope goes without saying. While we all pray that you will heal whole and strong and maintain the use of both arms, if God wills otherwise, we will accept that and welcome you home with our open arms. Here at Overtree Hall, there are arms enough to go round. Do come home, Captain. We long to see you.
Sincerely,
Sophie
We long to see you....He thought again of Wesley’s letter, describing Sophie’s martyr-like determination to continue the ruse of their marriage. Was she really thankful he was alive? Did she truly want him to come home? Stephen wanted to believe her encouraging words, but his brother’s letter and his accusations continued to plague him with doubts. Would Sophie remain loyal to him for duty’s sake, for the family’s sake, and maybe even for God’s, all while her heart longed to be with Wesley? His gut clenched at the thought.
If he fully recovered, perhaps he might apply to his superiors to be assigned guard duty on St. Helena to make sure Napoleon’s second exile was his last. Such an assignment would keep him across the world for years, if not forever. And who knew? Perhaps he would die on the journey, and Winnie’s prediction would come true after all. He winced at the melodramatic thought. What a sapskull he was. He really needed to wean himself off that laudanum, and the sooner the better.
chapter 30
Sophie now shared her studio with a cat and six kittens. Though Kate had originally delivered the litter to Miss Whitney’s room, for some reason Gulliver wasn’t satisfied, and arduously carried each kitten one by one by the scruff of its neck to the room next door. Giving in, Winnie had relocated a low basket filled with soft bedding to the studio. She—as well as Kate and Miss Blake—visited often. Wesley, in turn, seemed to avoid them all.
A few days later, Sophie sat knitting in the white parlour when Wesley came in. Finding her alone, he crossed the room and sat beside her on the sofa.
Instantly uneasy, she said, “I’m sorry—Kate is sitting there. She has only gone to check on the kittens, but she’ll be back directly.” She glanced toward the door, then added softly, “Please don’t say anything about the cats. Your mother doesn’t know yet.” She managed a smile, but he did not return the gesture.
He rose. “Then come with me to the church, and see my progress on the painting over the chancel archway.”
She said, “I do want to see it—I’m sure it’s wonderful. But I will wait and see it on Sunday with everyone else.”
He crossed his arms. “You can’t keep ignoring me.”
“I am not ignoring you. I am simply treating you as a sister-in-law should.”
“Like a leper, I think you mean.” He picked up the twin to the little bootie she was knitting, and fingered the soft wool. He whispered hoarsely, “I am more than your brother-in-law, and you know it.”
How small the tiny stocking looked in his long fingers. How heartbreaking.
The butler entered and announced, “A Mr. O’Dell to see you, madam.”
Sophie’s stomach lurched, and dread swamped her.
A moment later, her father’s assistant stepped into the room, looking dapper in a new suit of clothes, his hair for once well groomed.
“Maurice! What are you doing here? Is my father all right? The children?”
“Yes, everyone is perfect well, if still reeling from recent, unexpected events.” His gaze landed on Wesley, and his head reared back. “Mr. Wesley Overtree... What a surprise to see you here, sir.”
“And why should it be a surprise?” Wesley said coolly. “This is my home after all.”
“Yes, but we thought you were in Italy. Didn’t we, Sophie?”
“He returned. Earlier than expected.”
“Ah! How... awkward for all of you.”
“Not at all,” Sophie said with a frosty smile.
“One big happy family, are you? Isn’t that nice. So... where is your bridegroom? Oh, that’s right. Off to war, while you two are snug here at home. How convenient.”
“Not convenient at all,” Sophie replied. “Captain Overtree has been injured. We pray for his full recovery daily.”
