Chapter Twenty
SOPHIA MET MATTHEWat the door with wide eyes and a pale face.
He stopped still, just outside the door. Perhaps it was a good thing he’d come home early. “What is it?”
She glanced behind her, and then whispered, “She’s here.”
He knew immediately who she meant—but he couldn’t believe it. “She? You can’t mean . . .”
“Miss Timperman.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “How long has she been here?”
“Less than an hour. I . . . I couldn’t tell her. I’m sorry. She looks as if she’ll break in two at bad news.” Sophia twisted her hands together.
He nodded. It was his responsibility anyway.
“Your mother just returned home too. She’s with Miss Timperman now, but I doubt she’s said anything since I’ve been gone.”
He placed a hand on each of Sophia’s arms. “Why don’t you take a rest? Or go for a visit? I’ll talk to her.”
“I could do with a walk,” she said.
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. She rewarded him with a momentary smile. “Go. When you return, she’ll be gone.”
Sophia darted out the door as if she couldn’t get away fast enough. Matthew pushed his shoulders back and entered. The moment he appeared in the doorway to the parlor, his mother stood.
“There he is. Matthew, Miss Timperman has arrived.” She gave him a look that could have melted butter in January. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”
As she passed, Matthew leaned over and whispered into her ear. “I’ll explain later.”
“I’ll expect it. Poor Sophia was awfully brave,” she said under her breath.
When Mama had retreated to the kitchen, Matthew entered the room. “Good afternoon,” he said stiffly. What was the protocol for this odd situation? He didn’t know whether to sit or stand, much less what to do with his hands.
She gave him a smile that was more timid than warm. “Good afternoon, Mr. Canton. Please sit. I’m so happy to finally meet you.”
“I . . .” He sat, and then stood immediately again. He was far too nervous to remain in one place. “I didn’t know you were coming,” he said lamely as he crossed to the hearth, cold now in the heat of summer.
“I sent a telegram.”
When he turned around, her brow was furrowed, and his heart hurt at what would surely be her disappointment. “I received it, and I sent one in return.”
“I must have missed it. I left rather quickly after I sent mine.” She stood then, pressing her hands into the sides of her well-worn dress. “I owe you apologies. I . . . Well, to be honest, I let my fears overcome me. And then I was too embarrassed to admit that to you, and so I didn’t write—and I didn’t come with the wagon train.”
Matthew held up a hand. “There’s no need to explain. I must—”
“No, please!” She took a step forward, desperation crossing her face so quickly that Matthew swallowed his words and lowered his hand. “Let me explain myself. I was wrong, and I realized that I really did wish to marry you even if leaving home scared me. So I summoned my courage and sent that telegram after I’d sold some of my things to raise enough money to supplement what my parents gave me to buy a train ticket. And . . .” She lifted her arms. “Here I am.”
Here she was. And now Matthew had to tell her that he couldn’t marry her.
“Miss Timperman—”
“Daisy, please. If we are to be married, you must call me Daisy.” She gave him a shy smile that made him feel like the worst man on earth.
“Miss Timperman,” he said firmly. Clasping his hands behind his back, he pulled the words he needed to say from where they’d seemed stuck in his mind. “I cannot marry you. I’m sorry you came all this way, but that was what I’d relayed in my telegram.”
Her mouth opened slightly, and she began to shake her head as if she could erase the words he’d just said.
