No music had ever sounded sweeter than the notes of Maddie’s cries as she came beneath Sophie’s mouth.
Sophie let them both breathe for a patient five minutes before attempting an encore performance.
Chapter Eleven
Sophie woke before dawn—becausesomeonewas shaking her. She threw off Maddie’s hand and burrowed deeper into the bedclothes.
She growled a protest when the coverlet was whisked off and cold air hurried in on every side. “Cat will be in the kitchen by now,” Maddie said. “Come down and meet everyone.”
“In this state?”
“There’s tea.”
The promise of hot beverages was enough to tip the scales. She scrambled out of bed and into her clothes.
Maddie checked the sunshine-yellow silk one final time as Sophie pinned her hair at her neck. “I hope Mr. Samson won’t mind if I have to keep this a while longer.”
“Why should he mind?”
Maddie grimaced. “Because if I’m wearing it, he can’t sell it. Anything he brings us from London takes up space that could have belonged to a garment he could sell.”
“That sounds like quite the sacrifice,” Sophie said, sliding the last pin home against her scalp. “Why is he helping you?”
“Mr. Giles has been preventing Mr. Samson from purchasing Mr. Obeney’s factory,” Maddie said. “I don’t quite know why—normally the man’s reasons are painfully obvious—but in this instance he appears to be motivated by pure spite.”
Freshly dressed, they padded down two flights to the kitchen. The stove was putting out great gouts of heat and the smell of bread lured Sophie like manna in the desert.
Cat—“Don’t call me Catherine and we’ll be friends for life”—was small in stature but her soul seemed to fill the room to the corners. She kept an expert eye on the porridge on the stove while flirting with John and a sleepy Emma. Sophie watched the casually comfortable way they all touched one another—hands brushing elbows, a touch on a waist or shoulder in passing—and found herself shaken by the sweetest sort of envy. What must it be like, to be so confident in being loved?
Emma perked up with tea and porridge, and before her bowl was empty her waking eyes were looking closely at Sophie’s green dress. “That’s Judith’s work, isn’t it?”
Sophie stilled, while Maddie’s expert gaze passed over the ribbon rosettes. “I expect so. Most satin ribbons in Carrisford are.”
“I found this in Miss Narayan’s shop,” Sophie said. “I thought perhaps it came from London.”
“Plenty of their things do—but there’s also plenty from the folk right here in Carrisford,” Emma said. “Trying to keep step with London fashions. There’s a lot more money around than there used to be.”
“Not that any of us see much of it,” Cat added.
John merely grunted.
Cat quirked her lips at him and topped up his tea. “Pay no attention to him,” she said with a sidelong glance at Sophie. “He rarely gets words out before breakfast is over. Oh, and this came for you yesterday, Maddie.” She handed over a letter, a single sheet folded craftily to prevent it from being casually opened.
Sophie saw Maddie’s rosy lips go flat. “One of my father’s.” With a few knowing movements of her hands, she managed to get the sharp folds to relax and give up their secrets.
Sophie sympathized with the paper: Was there anything in the world that could resist Maddie Crewe’s hands?
Maddie raised an eyebrow. “Actually, it’s my stepmother who’s written.”
“Is that better?” Sophie asked.
“Don’t know. I never met the woman.” She skimmed the letter and let out a long-suffering sigh.
“What’s he done this time?” Emma said with sympathy.
“It seems he had a brilliant idea about stealing clothes from his neighbors’ washing lines and trying to pawn them practically on the same block. They stopped him with an armful of Mrs. Plumpton’s petticoats and his pockets full of pawnbroker’s duplicates—but he managed to escape arrest. Lord knows when he’ll turn up next.” Her eyes glinted at Sophie’s questioning gaze. “I’m sorry to say not everyone in the family has my talent for criminality.”
Porridge, Sophie found, was an awful thing to snort up one’s nose in surprise and dismay.
