“No.” The answer came too quickly. “But I’m certain that your father would not have done such a thing unless there was a very good reason, much like the reason you had for interfering with Prudence’s courtship.”
Sophia’s heart beat faster than usual. Mama seemed to be hiding something.
“I think Percy Ellington has proven that Ellington men cannot be trusted,” she continued in that quick voice. “At anyrate, you are engaged to Lord Finchley. I would much rather speak of him and your upcoming wedding plans.” Mama smiled, taking a few steps away to sit on the settee. She patted the cushion beside her.
Sophia’s feet remained rooted in the floor. “There will be no wedding plans.”
Mama’s brows shot up.
“I am going to break off my engagement to Lord Finchley.” The moment the words escaped her, a sense of relief banished the weight that had been resting on her shoulders. Lord Finchley would not have any trouble finding another wife, so long as he was still determined enough. He had implied that she was lacking in some areas, so perhaps he could find someone far better suited to him. Sophia was tired of pretending. She could no longer fathom the idea of settling for a man she didn’t love, no matter who in her life encouraged her to do so.
Mama had only been sitting for a short moment, but she sprung to her feet. “Come now, Sophia. You mustn’t do that. You have already bound yourself to him in word. It cannot honorably be undone, unless you wish to cause a scandal.”
“If that is what it takes, then a scandal I will cause. I do not care.” To make her point, Sophia crossed the room to the writing desk and prepared a fresh sheet of foolscap. Prudence and Aunt Hester watched in stunned silence as Sophia picked up her quill. “I shall write him a letter now with my regrets.”
Mama marched forward, stopping Sophia’s arm with a firm grasp. “Think for a moment about what you are doing. You are rejecting the opportunity to be a countess. You are rejecting a very coveted place in society. Your stepfather has worked very hard to introduce you to his connections, and this would be a great success for our entire family.”
Sophia pulled her arm away, her heart in her throat. She knew, deep in her bones, that Mama was hiding something.It could very well be that she was involved in Papa’s scheme to keep Sophia away from Isaac. Both her parents might have thought they knew what was best for her, but they had been wrong. A sense of betrayal gnawed at her heart. “I am writing this letter.” Sophia dipped her quill, a wave of heat washing over her face. “You shall not be permitted to interfere this time.”
Mama fell back a step, and Sophia scrawled her words carefully on the page. The silence was deafening, but also quite telling.
Mama had secrets, too.
She hadn’t denied her involvement. At the very least, she had some knowledge of Papa’s scheme.
As she wrote, Sophia spoke again. “If you wish to tell me why Papa chose to turn me against Isaac, then I might more easily forgive you.”
Sophia waited, her heart pounding fast as she signed the letter to Lord Finchley. She felt a twinge of guilt, but mostly relief. The man’s pride would be wounded more than anything else. To avoid the repercussions, she might have to stay in Cornwall a bit longer than planned. But that was fine. It would give her more time to discover Mama’s secret.
Her mouth was firm, her eyes heavy as she stared down at Sophia and her letter. “I cannot tell you.” Mama’s voice was quiet, wavering slightly with emotion. “Before your father’s death, I gave him my word.” She put a hand to her head, and Aunt Hester bustled forward to steady her. Mama’s eyes flickered closed, then opened again. “I must advise you to stay away from Mr. Ellington and Morvoren House.”
Sophia’s brow furrowed. Her quill clattered on the desk as she stood. “Why?”
Mama shook her head, leaning into Aunt Hester as she led her to the settee. Sophia shot a glance at Prudence, who looked just as confused as she was. Mama did have a flair for thedramatic—much like her new husband—but at the moment she seemed genuinely distressed.
A deep bark came from around the corner. A chestnut brown spaniel followed the sound. Thistle. A second dog quickly appeared behind her, moving a little slower. Flora’s tail wagged, but her face was rather squished on one side, as if she had just been sleeping in the parlor.
Both dogs greeted Sophia, sniffing her skirts and boots, and then moved on to Aunt Hester. Thistle jumped onto the settee beside Mama, investigating the signs of her distress with lowered ears.
Now was obviously not the time to press Mama for more information. Sophia had arrived unexpectedly, which had already shocked her. Besides that, Sophia smelled of horses and mildew. She needed a bath, a clean gown, and a moment to gather her thoughts.
And then she was going straight to Morvoren House.
Chapter Twenty-Two
White sheets hung like ghosts over the furniture and portraits inside Morvoren. Curtains blocked every last shred of daylight from penetrating the glass, leaving the air inside eerie and cold. Isaac’s steward, Mr. Fenwick, had access to the estate, but he conducted most of the estate business from his own house near the property. Besides Mr. Fenwick’s rare visits, the house had remained empty since the day Isaac had left it behind.
A pair of servants, Mr. and Mrs. Nance, kept the house and land in decent condition, though without supervision, it appeared that their efforts weren’t at their full capacity. Isaac had arranged for all of it to function like clockwork—all so he wouldn’t be expected to return to the house himself.
After a few minutes of searching, he found Mr. and Mrs. Nance in the courtyard. Mr. Nance was a squat man with greying hair and a missing front tooth, but to Isaac’s relief, he knew how to draw a bath. His wife, Mrs. Nance, was surprised to see Isaac—a bit alarmed, in fact—but set to work making a pie for dinner. The couple had surely grown accustomed to having the house to themselves, and neither seemed at all pleased at Isaac’s arrival.
Mr. Nance had the sheets removed from the furniture in Isaac’s old bedchamber. Isaac didn’t want to use the room his grandfather had spent decades in; it felt wrong to claim it now when he had been absent for so long. After scrubbing himself clean and dressing in fresh clothes, Isaac made his way through the house, inspecting each room.
Besides a bit of peeling paint and wallpaper, there were few visible signs of disrepair. But on the upper floors, buckets had been placed sporadically to catch the rain that leaked through the roof. The windows were filthy, sealed shut with grime and edged in cobwebs. On the ground floor, a few traps had been set for rats…and had not yet been emptied.
Isaac’s stomach sank as he finished his tour, opening the drapes in each room as he passed through, but the light did little to ease the growing guilt in his heart.
This was not what Grandfather would have wished to become of his house.
