A wrapped sweet fell from Winnie’s inverted pocket, and Sophie bent and picked it up. Again Sophie hoped that no one would come upon them and see Winnie in this state—or in her current position! What a sight they must make.
Finally they reached the attic, Keith huffing and puffing. Sophie opened the door to Winnie’s room and helped Mr. Keith gently slide the elderly woman from his shoulder to her bed.
Keith bent over, resting his hand on his knee. “Hang me, I’m lathered. That scrawny old bird weighs more than a drunken gunner.”
Sophie smiled gratefully at the man. “Thank you, Mr. Keith. Captain Overtree would be pleased to know you helped.”
“I know he would. He asked me to look out for you and the old girl. And I plan to do my duty.”
“How good of you both. Now you go to bed and I’ll finish cleaning up. You’ve done more than your fair share of work tonight.”
“Carried my share of the load, I think you mean.” He rotated his shoulder and stretched his neck. “I’ll be sore in the morning—that’s for da... dashed sure. Sorry. Night.”
Sophie removed Winnie’s shoes, spread a blanket over her, and then went back downstairs. While she was cleaning up the glass, the colonel stepped from his room into the corridor, fully dressed. “Is everything all right?”
“Oh... um, yes, Colonel. Everything is fine. Dropped something, that’s all, and didn’t want to wake a housemaid at this hour. Nothing to worry about.”
“Well, good. I thought I heard something... else.”
“What?”
“Never mind. Well, if you’re sure you’re all right. Good night, my dear.”
“Good night, Colonel.”
In the parlour the next evening, Mr. Overtree held up a crystal decanter—nearly empty—and eyed it in disgust.
He glared across the room at Mr. Keith. “Good heavens, man. Must you drink all my brandy? I know for a fact Thurman refilled this decanter yesterday.”
“I didn’t ha—” Mr. Keith broke off with a swift glance at Sophie. “That is, I... don’t know what to say, sir.”
Sophie came to his defense. “Mr. Keith has been abstaining lately. I don’t think it could have been him.”
“Oh, come now,” Mrs. Overtree scoffed. “Who else in this house drinks so much of that awful stuff?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Overtree.” Keith’s eyes were on Sophie as he said it. “But perhaps I did and merely... forgot.”
“Forgot? Well, if you drank all this, I imagine you did.” Mr. Overtree scowled. “Probably have a thick head today as well.”
Colonel Horton winced and spoke up. “Don’t be angry with the lieutenant, Alan. Truth be told, I drank quite a bit of brandy myself last night. Rough day with Stephen leaving. Maybe Keith isn’t the only one who wanted to dull the pain.”
Keith stared at the colonel, stunned speechless.
Sophie watched the elderly man with confusion, curiosity, and growing realization. If he offered her a sweet, she would not be surprised.
To distract herself from loneliness, Sophie invited Kate up to the studio the following day, and together the two young women spent several pleasant hours—Sophie instructing while Kate attempted a still life of flowers and fruit. For the time being the partially finished portrait of Captain Overtree stood shrouded against the wall, too poignant to look at.
Miss Blake had gone to Oxford the day after the party to visit her future sister-in-law, so Sophie had Kate’s undivided attention. Except, perhaps, for Gulliver, who lounged nearby.
Mr. Keith, Sophie knew, was restless with Miss Blake gone, sure the new sister-in-law must have six strapping brothers who would all vie for her regard. Through the window, they heardcrackover and over again as he hit cricket balls singlehandedly across the lawn, only to fetch them and begin again.
Finally silence reigned and Kate and Sophie looked at each other in relief. But after a few minutes passed, the sound of the pianoforte being banged in a discordant racket wound its way up the stairwell. Sophie winced, and Kate shook her head as she continued to paint. Sophie was amazed the girl could concentrate.
Some time later, carriage wheels crunched on the drive below, and Sophie stepped to the window. “Miss Blake is here. I thought she meant to stay in Oxford longer. Shall we go down?”
“Oh...” Kate dabbed paint to a flower petal. “Let Mr. Keith have her to himself for a while.”
The two women shared knowing grins.
