“How dared you!” she hissed. “How dared you pretend to care about me when all you want is my money, you wicked man! How dared you make up to me, when all the time you were scheming and plotting! You never cared tuppence for me, you only wanted my ten thousand pounds. Well, you can whistle for it! I shall tell everyone what you have done so that none of my sisters will be fooled by you, and if you both end up in a debtors’ prison, I shall not care a bit. I hate you, Simon Payne! I shall hate you to my dying day!”
So saying, she turned and fled.
17: Friends
Simon had encountered many disappointments in his life. His father’s rejection of him at the age of fifteen was perhaps the largest of them, but even then he had had a place to go and a future to hope for. Even his repeated failures as an architect had never quite depressed his indomitable spirit. There was always another possible client, another house to design, another opportunity. He had Juliet’s unflagging support, a house to live in and his own optimism to drive him forward.
Sophie’s rejection was of another category altogether.
At first, there was no time to think about it, for Juliet collapsed, wailing, and there was all the worry of that, and women thronging his room with vinaigrettes and burnt feathers, and the apothecary to be sent for, with the result that he missed dinner altogether and had to ask Robert to bring him something on a tray.
Then Robert handed him The Book. That was how he came to think of it, later, with capital letters, and probably underlined three times. At the time, it seemed just a footnote at the endof a difficult day, a day that had started with the abscondment of Lord Daniel Torbuck, had segued into that glorious interlude in the chapel gallery, the surprisingly positive interview with Richard Merrington and then the calamitous encounter with Sophie.
His thoughts had been so despairing that he could not but think his life was over. He did not care about being destitute — while he had his health he could always find employment of some sort, after all. He might even be able to care for Juliet, as she had cared for him all these years.
But he could not face a future without his Sophie. After sternly repressing any thought of marrying her for weeks, having the possibility dangled enticingly before him rendered her loss too bitter even for his usually buoyant spirits. How could he possibly survive without her now? It was too dismal a future to be contemplated.
Then Robert had brought his tray up, and as he left, he had bent down to pick something up near the door.
“Here’s a book you dropped, sir. Got a bit crumpled where it fell. Oh, there’s a letter too. Put it over here for you, shall I?”
A book? His own books were neatly piled up on the table where he worked. He crossed the room to the small side table near the fire where the book lay, and picked it up.‘A Collection of Designs for Cottages, Both Modern and Healthy, Suitable for the Accommodation of Labourers and their Families, With Complete Estimates of Materials’,the cover stated.‘By A Gentleman’.
Several pages had become bent where the book had fallen. Carefully, he straightened them out, then began leafing through them. Cottages, a multitude of cottages. He could not help smiling, thinking of Richard’s comment that cottages were all he was good for.‘ Labourers’ cottages, with two parlours anda kitchen below, and two bedrooms above.’Page after page was filled with just such designs.
On the side table, where it had been hidden by the book, he now saw the letter that Robert had mentioned. Was it—? Oh! It was to him — from Sophie!
‘Simon, This is a book of designs that Richard drew. It was published three years ago, and there have already been two further editions, and now he has been commissioned for a second volume, of stables and such like. He was paid £100 for the first one, £200 each for the second and third, and royalties of £150 so far. They sell very well, and they are not such beautiful designs as yours. If you were to write to the publisher, he might commission you for a book of country house designs or town houses. That would be a good way of getting your name known, and earning some money, too. Your affectionate Sophia.’
He smiled.Your affectionate Sophia.’Whatever happened in the future, however lonely and miserable his life might become, he had those words to warm him and remind him that once, just once in his sorry existence, someone had liked him well enough to want to marry him, however briefly.
At once he sat down to pen a letter to the publisher. For a moment, he agonised over whether to use his real name or to hide behind the label‘A Gentleman’, but the question was speedily settled. Richard Merrington, a gentleman of means and the heir to a dukedom, might choose to conceal his identity, but Simon need have no such qualms. He owed no duty of discretion to his family, and his purpose of making his name as an architect would hardly be served by anonymity. So he signed himself‘Simon Payne of Edlesborough’, which had the virtue of being entirely true. The publisher would no doubt be astute enough to remember the Earl of Edlesborough, and look him up in the Peerage to assure himself that Simon was legitimate. Buthe did not want the fellow writing to Edlesborough, so he put his London address on the letter, and added,‘Currently residing at the Duke of Brinshire’s seat, Staineybank, Brinshire.’
That should get the man’s attention!
He then sat down to eat his now cold dinner, washing it down with several glasses of the duke’s excellent claret. After this, he felt somewhat heartened, and consoled himself with the thought that at least he had the possibility to make amends with Sophie while he remained at Staineybank. There was no need to despair, not yet.
This comforting thought lasted for precisely one hour, when Robert arrived with the news that the duke would like to see him in the library at once. Unlike the summons from Richard, there was no‘would be obliged’or‘whenever convenient’,but such words from a duke, who could not be gainsaid, would be mere flummery.
Simon went, therefore, with no inkling of trouble, and was surprised to find the duke’s eyebrows at their lowest and most threatening ebb. He was attended by James Hammond and his father, and by Richard, all looking serious.
Before Simon could do more than bow, the duke rounded on him.
“What is this I hear about you seducing a lovely girl like Sophia Merrington into a betrothal, eh? And you with not a penny to your name.”
“I—”
“My cousin, to be deceived by a veritable fortune hunter? It is not good enough, Payne. Not good enough at all.”
“Is it true?” Richard burst out. “That your pursuit was only to do with her fortune? For I was deceived myself, Payne. You made a very convincing case.”
“Of course it is not true!” Simon cried, stung. “As if I would do such a thing! I never made any secret of my lack of fortune,and I have been studiously avoiding any hint of pursuit of the lady, as it pleases you to describe it, until today, when I came upon her in great distress after Torbuck’s defection. Even then, I explained to her very carefully that it was impossible that we should marry, however much I might desire it.”
“Easy words to say,” the duke said, with a snort of derision. “You must think us fools, Payne. You made no move to attach poor Sophia until she had the promise of a dowry of ten thousand pounds, and then as soon as Torbuck is off the scene, there you are, drawing her in with sweet words.”
“And kisses,” Richard said. “She has admitted that there were kisses.”
“Ha! He does not denythat!”the duke said triumphantly. “Well, I will not have it, Payne, and so I tell you. I cannot abide that kind of low deception against a poor, sweet child who deserves all your respect. And to think I admired these foolish designs of yours. Well, there is no chance I will ever build your grandiose schemes now, so you can forget that. Whatever Richard dreams up, that is what will be built, and you may take yourself and your mendacious sister with you. I want you both gone from this house tomorrow, understand?”
