“I knew it,” Kate repeated on a sigh, sinking back into the cushions with a wistful, faraway expression, a contented smile on her pixie-like face.
Sophie reminded herself the captain had probably fabricated his answer, or at least exaggerated, caught up as she had been in her rosy version of their meeting. Surely that was all.
Mrs. Overtree entered, looked from one to the other, then frowned at her daughter.
“Katherine, go and dress, my dear. We don’t want Sophie to think proper young ladies lie about in their caps all day.”
“Very well, Mamma.” Kate set aside her book and rose.
Mrs. Overtree turned to her son. “I was thinking a tour of the manor and grounds might be in order for Sophie. Though with the wind whipping outside as it is, perhaps just the house for now.”
“Excellent idea, Mamma. I would join you but Grandfather asked me to meet with the farrier for him. He had to leave on some errand that could not wait, apparently.”
“Did he say what it was?”
“Not to me, no.”
“Very well. I shall give Sophie the tour myself. Come along.”
Sophie rose and followed Mrs. Overtree around the square-plan house, trying to imagine Wesley and his siblings growing up there. They went through the public rooms, a few of which Sophie had already seen: dining room, morning room, white parlour, billiards room, library, and hall.
Surveying the high echoing chamber once more, Sophie was again struck by its familiarity. Perhaps she had seen a hall just like it in one of the fine houses she had visited with her father. In the musicians’ gallery above, she noticed a plaster mask on the wall that looked like a jester’s face. She had certainly not seen it before. That, she would have remembered.
Mrs. Overtree led the way up the stairs. The first floor up held primarily bedchambers. She pointed out Kate’s, Stephen’s old room—now the colonel’s—and theirs. Mrs. Overtree pushed open the door to her and her husband’s room, very similar in layout to the one Sophie now shared with the captain. Then Mrs. Overtree led her into her “boudoir,” a large dressing room with sofa and chair as well as the requisite wardrobes and cupboards. She opened one of these and ran a hand through the fine fabrics within. “If you need any gowns now you are here, you need only say so. If fact, I think I shall ask my lady’s maid to take in a few of mine to fit you.”
Sophie wasn’t sure whether to feel grateful or embarrassed.
Then they walked up another flight of stairs and through a long echoing gallery, and Sophie imagined the Overtree children riding hobby horses and chasing each other in games of tag and hide-and-seek when the weather kept them indoors. Mrs. Overtree pointed out Wesley’s bedchamber as well as the room adjacent that served as his studio, and the guest rooms sometimes used by Mr. Keith or Miss Blake.
From there, Mrs. Overtree gestured up the stairwell leading to the highest floor. “Up there are the old nursery, schoolroom, and housemaids’ bedchambers. I doubt you shall have any occasion to venture there.”
Sophie doubted it as well. But she wondered again if Captain Overtree had ventured up there, and why.
On their way back downstairs, Mrs. Overtree paused to point out a portrait among the dozens they had passed unheralded. Sophie sucked in a breath and prayed her expression gave nothing away.
“And this is my eldest son, Wesley Overtree. Oh, perhaps you have met him?”
“Yes. In Devonshire.”
“Ah. You are probably not well-acquainted, but is it not a fair likeness?”
“Yes...” Sophie dragged her gaze from the handsome visage to her new mother-in-law, noticing the similarities between them. “He looks a great deal like you, Mrs. Overtree.”
“Thank you. He takes after me far more than either Stephen or Katherine. In looks and in artistic temperament.”
“Oh? Do you paint as well?” Sophie asked.
“When I was young, I painted for my own enjoyment, though I was never trained. If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient.” She sighed. “But that was before the responsibilities of caring for my children, husband, and household took precedence. You will find out soon enough how becoming a wife and mother changes everything. For better and for worse.”
Sophie forced a smile.Oh yes, she would.And sooner than anyone might guess. If only she could joyfully anticipate the birth of her child like a happily married woman!
Mrs. Overtree nodded toward the next portrait. “And Wesley painted this one of Katherine when she was sixteen.”
Sophie recognized Wesley’s style but didn’t judge it his best work. In the portrait, Kate appeared to be in the awkward throes of adolescence, her nose rather squat. And he had captured none of her vibrant personality.
“And of course you recognize Stephen.” Mrs. Overtree gestured toward a portrait on the other side of Kate’s.
Actually, Sophie had not recognized it. In fact, she might have walked right past without noticing. She stepped nearer, studying the image. How young he looked. How innocent. His eyes were clear and blue. So full of life and hope, with none of the guard and callous irony she saw now when she looked at him. And no scar marred his face. No overgrown hair and side-whiskers masked its planes.
