But a minute or two later, he cleared his throat and turned to the door. “You know, I think I will go up and check on Winnie. Good night.”
He left the room—and the tantalizing sight of Sophie brushing her hair—hoping to quell his desire. Time with his old nurse would certainly do that. But when he reached Winnie’s door and knocked, no one answered. Filled with concern, he let himself in but found the room empty. He wondered where she was and hoped she was all right.
In the morning, Sophie awoke to murmuring voices. Libby and another housemaid were talking somewhere nearby, perhaps in her dressing room or out in the corridor.
“Hush, Flora,” Libby said, a barb of irritation in her usually cheerful tone.
Sophie had seen the maid, Flora. She was a pretty, buxom brunette with a ready if crooked smile.
Flora said, “I’m only repeating what Edgar told me. The captain sleeps in the dressing room. He’s almost sure of it.”
“And I repeat—hush.”
“All I’m saying is if she won’t let him warm her bed, he can warm mine.”
“Flora, if Mrs. Hill heard you say that, you’d be out on your ear.”
“And who’s going to tell her?”
“I will, if I hear you spreading this claptrap...”
The voices moved on.
Sophie felt her ears burn quite literally to be the subject of such unflattering supposition. Kind Libby probably knew or at least suspected there was truth in what Flora and Edgar had said, but how loyal of her to try to curb the gossip.
She thought of Captain Overtree saying he was going to check on Winnie last night and heading up the attic stairs in his dressing gown. Had he really been going to see Winnie? Especially when the nurse had said she didn’t want visitors at night?
If hewereseeking another bed to warm, had Sophie any right to feel the resentment that curdled her stomach at the thought? She could not blame him if he pined for or desired someone else, not when she did that very thing. But she was not carrying on a physical relationship—nor a relationship of any kind—with another lover. Could he say the same? She did not really think Captain Overtree would have an illicit relationship with someone in his employ. At least she hoped not. She wanted to believe that Stephen Overtree was an honorable, moral, godly man.
But was he?
That afternoon, Stephen and his father interviewed two possible candidates to take Humphries’ place as estate manager. One man was young but showed potential. The other had more experience but would probably follow Humphries into retirement in a few years. Stephen wondered if it was worth the trouble to train in a new man for such a short time. Then again, there was no guarantee a younger man would stay on longer. He might take the experience he earned with them to another post.
He and his father debated the merits and drawbacks of each but made no decision, his father wishing to think on it some more, perhaps wait and see if anyone else applied to their advertisement first. Stephen, however, had hoped to see the matter settled before he left.
Later, Stephen went upstairs again to check on Winnie, since she had not been in her room the night before. He found her contentedly feeding her birds, her cat watching and chattering from the windowsill. He idly wondered if she fed the birds for her own amusement or the cat’s.
When he asked her where she had been last night, she paused to think. “Gracious, I don’t know. What time? Oh, yes... I may have gone down for some warm milk around then.” She winked at him. “Gulliver couldn’t sleep.”
“But you are well?”
“Oh yes, perfectly. Besides worried for you, of course.”
“For me? Well, yes, I suppose you would be.” He assumed she referred to his imminent return to duty. “But no need to worry. I am prepared to meet my fate, whatever it may be.”
“I believe you have already met your fate.” Winnie grinned. “And her name is Sophie.”
Confusion flickered through Stephen. Had she changed her mind about her prediction of his demise? Or was she losing her faculties as others suggested? Not that he’d ever admit the possibility, especially to his mother.
A housemaid entered, bringing in Miss Whitney’s dinner tray, which reminded Stephen it was time to dress for his own dinner. He bid Winnie farewell and went downstairs, though his former nurse remained on his mind.
After dinner, the family attended Evensong together. Everyone except for his father, as the evening wind was too cold, his mother insisted, and would be bad for his chest.
The service of hymns, prayers, and a brief sermon was not Stephen’s favorite. He wasn’t fond of singing, and knew his low, craggy voice added nothing to the enjoyment of those near enough to hear him. Even so, it was good to be in a candlelit church with his mother, grandfather, and sister. And now his wife as well. How strangely pleasant to have her tucked beside him in the family box, to share a prayer book and hymnal. She sang quietly and tentatively, not familiar with the words or tunes. Still, her shy alto voice was like warm velvet in his ear, and he had to resist the urge to lean nearer.
After the service, he presented Sophie to the vicar and his wife. Several neighbors also sought them out for introductions. Even those neighbors and tenants too timid to come forward favored them with curious looks and smiles. Had things been different—were she his wife in more than name—he would have gladly overcome his unsocial disposition and proudly introduced her to one and all. But as things were, their reticence to intrude was welcome.
Later that night, they again went through their bedtime ritual. Stephen changing in his dressing room, then stepping into the bedchamber to wait for Edgar to tidy up and take his leave. Sophie sat at her dressing table, fully clothed. Libby was again late in coming up.
