We travel first to Bath, so I may become acquainted with her father and his family. Then I shall bring her home to you. I trust you will welcome her warmly.
Sincerely,
Stephen
He blotted and sealed the letter, preparing it for the post. Would his parents welcome Sophie warmly? Somehow Stephen doubted it.
chapter 7
On the journey to Bath, Sophie found Captain Overtree even quieter than usual and wondered if he dreaded the coming visit as much as she did. Or perhaps he was still suffering the ill effects of drink. The captain had insisted they call on her family before he returned to his regiment, to prove the husband she had written about was no fiction created to explain away a child as some wartime “widows” did in an attempt to establish respectability. He wanted no one to question the validity of their marriage. Besides, there was no point in delaying the visit, he asserted, as Bath lay between Plymouth and his family’s estate.
She appreciated the sentiment but did not look forward to explaining their rushed marriage to her father and stepmother in person—or to pretending to be a happily married couple in front of them, even for a few days. She certainly hoped her father had received her letter, so the worst of the shock would have passed.
Beside the captain in the rocking carriage, Sophie lapsed into silence as well, concentrating on breathing deeply to keep her own nausea at bay.
Several hours later, the coachman directed the horses into the yard of the Westgate, an old coaching inn near the heart of the city. There a groom opened the door and offered his hand to help Sophie alight, her legs stiff after the long confinement.
Inhaling welcome fresh air, she looked across the courtyard to the Roman baths and Pump Room to gain her bearings.
Captain Overtree alighted beside her, bags in hand, and surveyed the busy innyard. “Shall we find a hack?”
“The house isn’t far. And I, for one, long to walk, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
She led the way north, up Lansdown Street. The tall, narrow terraced houses stood like books shelved side by side—white, with black wrought-iron gates.
She stopped before Number 6. “Here we are.”
He shifted the bags to one hand and opened the gate for her. “Anything we need to talk about before we go in?”
“Well...” She hesitated. Should she warn him about her stepmother? The children?
The door opened, and her two little stepsisters dashed out, launching themselves at her legs.
“Sophie! What have you brought us?” six-year-old Martha asked.
Lyddie, the eldest at eight, eyed the captain warily. “Who is this man?”
Oh dear.Perhaps they had not yet received her letter.
Her father stepped out. “Sophie. Here you are, as promised. How relieved I am to see you. We only received your letter yesterday. I could not credit it.” He looked up at the tall man beside her. “Captain Overtree, I take it?”
“Yes, sir.” The captain held out his hand, and her father hesitated only a moment before shaking it.
“You look nothing like your brother.”
“So I am often told.”
Her father turned back to her. “And my Sophie. A married woman. Can it really be true?”
“I am, Papa.” She held out her hand, showing him the ring on her finger.
He squinted at it. “Your mother’s ring?”
“Yes. I thought she would like me to wear it.”
“Yes. And so do I. Well, come in. Mrs. Dupont will wish to see you.” He said the latter dutifully but without conviction.
