The silence in the room thickened.
“You carry the weight of it now?” he asked at last.
Sophia took a deep breath. “No, Papa, Tobias helped me.”
“I’m sorry, who?”
“Mr. Mannerly. He… He makes me happy.”
Her father’s face puckered into a scowl. “You know him well enough to say such things?”
Sophia ignored his anger. It had already been allowed to reign for far too long. “It is possible to mourn Mama and still know love, as she did.”
Her father’s expression was pure thunder, his eyes dark, his lips wet with spittle. “You have no right to use your mother to justify your betrayal!”
She locked eyes with her father and said, in a voice that was both soft and pure iron, “I will speak of Mama. I will speak of Adriana. I will speak of Tobias. And I will love them, Papa, and you, for as long as I live. And you will make room in your heart for this. For your heart is too big to go without love. That is why you have filled it up with all this foolishness. Yes, foolishness, Papa. And you will let it go now. I, your daughter, ask it of you.”
“I will… You can’t… This isn’t…” Papa’s spluttering drew to a halt.
Sophia threw off the rug that warmed her legs, swinging them carefully to the floor.
“What are you doing?” Her father gasped.
She stood slowly and took a step forward. Then another. It was enough to cross the distance between them. She slipped her arms around him.
“Let it go, Papa. I am here.”
“No,” he cried, taking her wrists and peeling her free. “You wish to desert me, as your sister has!”
Sophia shook her head. “The only way to lose me is to force me to stay. You are throwing away the very things you wish to cling to. Just think, there could be grandchildren—beautiful little snuggly things with the same eyes or chin or cheeks as Mama’s. We should lift up her memory to the light and celebrate it, not bury it deep in our hearts like a dark and lonely tomb.”
Sophia’s legs began to buckle. She stumbled backward toward the sofa. Her father lunged forward and gripped her wrists to steady her. He lowered her gently, then stepped back.
His eyes were upon her, but his mind was far away. The anger was gone. He looked quite lost, as if unsure what his rage should be replaced with. Sophia wished she could show him the way, but she had done all she could. The rest was up to him.
Her father stood, seemingly undecided, his expression giving Sophia no clue as to whether she had reached him or not. He neither argued his cause nor accepted Sophia’s. He merely stood, transfixed by thoughts Sophia could not decipher.
All at once, he turned on his heel and was gone. He disappeared so briskly that Sophia barely had enough time to call out “Papa!” to no avail. She sat, trapped by her impaired legs, unable to run after him, to comfort him, to insist he listen rather than draw back into his suffocating cocoon.
A part of her wished to send for a footman to be her legs. She imagined her father’s chagrin at being chased down in this fashion and thought better of it. All she could do was allow him some time for her words to do their work, to seep into his heart and dissolve the barriers he had put up. Barriers that were meant to keep out more pain and loss, but, instead, had trapped these sensations within.
She had been brave, braver than she’d been in a full fifteen years. She had spoken up. She had stood her ground. Her father needed to process that the frightened, compliant Sophia was no more. He must remember how much he cherished that bold little girl who had once loved him with abandon and not trepidation. He must remember, and celebrate her return. She must give him time.
Time. It was in never-ending supply in this house, and yet she felt she did not have enough of it. Not the kind she wanted. Time with Tobias. Time with Adriana. Time filled with choice.
But she would claim it. Not much longer now. Her father would give his blessing, or she would go without. She had survived many hard years. She was strong enough. With Tobias at her side, she could conquer the world.
But it would all be much easier if she could only conquer her father first.
Chapter Twenty-Four
For the nexttwo days, Sophia’s father avoided her. He did not come down for meals but ate in his room instead. He did not look in on her or plant a kiss upon her forehead or cheek. Nor did he ask after news from Lord Carthige’s publisher. It was as if he had vanished entirely from her life.
Even George and Bess were neglected. Her brother bore it better than Bess. He could escape to a business appointment or ride into town. In fact, he might have felt his father’s foot lifted somewhat from his neck. But Bess, like Sophia, was trapped within the house and its grounds. With the reigning mood so dark, it was all their youngest sibling could do not to cry with frustration.
Was this going to be their new normal? Had he given up entirely? Perhaps he no longer cared what any of his children did. Sophia could picture him, morose and depressed, skulking like a ghost in a corner of his own home.
Enough was enough.
