“Elizabeth is happy to host you for a month or two, and I am certain we will have you married in earnest by the start of the summer.”
It was Sophie’s turn to scoff. “You wish to cover your lie?” The words tumbled from her mouth before she could check them.
“Do not speak to your mother that way,” Father broke in. How nice of him to finally address her. A reprimand was a fitting introduction into the conversation.
Sophie reined in her temper. But it was growing more difficult. All these years, she’d expected to see her parents again when she had made something of herself. Something they could not help but acknowledge as being worthy. Yet here she was, back in her parents’ drawing room, being reprimanded by the two of them as though she were sixteen again, and an embarrassment to the family name.
“I cannot do as you’ve requested,” she said through rather gritted teeth. “I have accepted a position in London with a prestigious astronomy project. You might have read about them in the paper, Father. The Whitcomb Astronomy Endeavor.”
There was only the slightest loosening around her father’s eyes to indicate he did, in fact, know of the group of which she spoke. It was not by surprise that she’d chosen a position with an astronomy group—she knew how her father followed that profession. Knew his fascination as an amateur enthusiast. It was his love for it that originally drew her to take up the study, if only for somethingto connect her with her father. He’d not cared, of course. Always brushing aside her discoveries and comments, never taking her seriously.
“Work,” Mother spat, her placid expression fleeing. “You are to work like a common man?”
If only she were acommon man, then Mr. Whitcomb might like her better. Father, too. “There is nothing common about it, Mother. Some of the country’s greatest minds are coming together on this project. Mr. Whitcomb has already been credited with discovering several minor planets in the past decade.”
Mother spluttered. “I did not raise you in all the necessary social graces and skills so that you might squander them on a man’s career.” She said the words as if they were a soiled linen she was forced to hold.
“No,” Sophie said flatly. “You raised me to marry a wealthy, titled man. But it seems I’ve already accomplished that. So, I suppose I ought to move on to loftier goals now.” She could stand it no longer and shot to her feet. What had she expected coming here? Answers? Never. Her parents spoke in half-truths and riddles. This was a wasted trip, and she could not remain.
“I had hoped to stay a little longer, but I do not know that it would be wise. I will be in London for another week; should you care to write, you can address it to the Whitcomb Endeavor.” She strode from the room, savoring the feel of success that came from being the one to end the conversation. She had to savor it, because any moment now, she knew the crushing despair that always seemed to blanket her after a familial interaction would descend. Especially when she’d anticipated this interaction—or something of the sort—for years now. And it had been an utter disaster. Fustian, and here it was coming already: a desire to bury her face in her hands and weep.
Pritchard was still in the hall, and his mouth was turned down as she approached.
“It seems I will be for London sooner than I’d expected. My bag, if you do not mind?”
He pulled it out from beside the decorative table. He’d not even put it away. Somehow, that made her spirits plummet even further.
“I am sorry, Miss Sophie,” he said in an undertone. “It truly was wonderful to—”
“Sophia!”
Sophie spun, shocked to see her mother striding into the hall. She had followed? Had something Sophie said actually managed to pierce the woman’s conscience?
“Leave us, Pritchard,” Mother demanded.
With a final nod for Sophie, the butler slipped from the hall.
Mother faced her head on, that chin still tilted. Her hair—colored so like Sophie’s—was still perfectly coiffed. No distress on her face despite what Sophie had heard in her tone.
“Yes, Mother?” Would she apologize? Would she ask Sophie to stay?
“You will not tell anyone you are unmarried.”
Sophie’s mouth hung open, but she clamped it shut. “I do not wish to be a part of the lie.”
“Go to London, do yourjobif you must. But you will not sully the Renard name by… by…” She could not even finish the demand, because what could she say?
A lifetime of submission to her parents warred within her. Much as she hated to admit it, she had studied harder knowing her parents did not see the worth in her education, and had gained this position as the culmination of her life’s work to prove to them that she was worthy of their notice. That her intelligence was worth celebrating.
And they did not care.
They had never cared and never would.
“Sully our name by exposing your lie?” she declared, staring her mother down.
A tick jumped in the older woman’s jaw, a fire burning in her eyes, and of a sudden, Sophie did not wish to fight. She had fought her entire life against her parents and was so very tired of it.
“Do not worry, Mother, I will keep your secret for you. For now, at least.” She had to, or she would have no job to go to, and it was incredibly clear now that itwas her only option—build her career alone, or… nothing. There was nothing else.
