Page 56 of The Gentlewoman Farmer

Charles sauntered in, looking ready for another night in town. No one spoke to him.

“What are all these long faces for? And where is my cousin?” he asked.

Philip looked down at his sketchbook, not wanting to tell the little scamp anything.

“She’s not feeling well. She is keeping to her room today,” said Mrs. Allen to her knitting.

“That’s a first,” Charles muttered under his breath. With that, he quit the house.

Not long after, a knock sounded softly from the front door. Philip wondered if Mr. Burns dared return. But a moment later, Betsy brought in Jonathan Spencer.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Spencer.” Philip shook his hand. Mr. Spencer was as meticulously groomed as the last time Philip had seen him, with every hair in place atop his head and every loop neatly arranged on his cravat.

“Do you have a moment?” he asked Philip.

“Yes, of course.”

Philip took Mr. Spencer to the library.

“I am sorry for the short notice, but I’ve received a letter from London. My mentor would like me to return to London immediately.”

“And you don’t mind if I accompany you?” Hope rose within Philip for the first time in weeks.

“Of course not. That’s why I am here. I’ve been thinking about your case, and I want to help Miss Worthington.”

“Excellent. When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow, first thing.”

“That is soon.” He could wait here for Sophia, or he could leave and do something to help her. “I’ll be ready. Thank you, Mr. Spencer.”

After showing Mr. Spencer out, Philip let out a breath and leaned against the door. His eyes drifted to the stairs that led to Sophia’s room. His legs ached to take the stairs two at a time to see how she fared. Had she slept at all after her adventure? He had not. It had been agony to guide her back to the house, her anguished body so close to his. The weight of Mr. Burns’ duplicity had coursed through her as she leaned against Philip. He’d practically carried her up those very stairs he now studied. Rolling his shoulders, he turned to face the drawing room.

“What did he want?” asked his mother.

“I am leaving for London tomorrow. Mr. Spencer believes he has a connection who might straighten out the will and rid Sophia of her uncle’s involvement in the farm.”

“How clever of you.” Philip studied his mother’s delighted expression. Did she sincerely want to help Sophia? He thought she was mostly entertaining herself. “Mary and I will come with you.”

“No, Agnes.” Mrs. Allen shook her head. “Let Philip do this on his own.” To Philip, she said, “But perhaps your mother and I may accompany you to London. I believe Sophia has had enough houseguests for a while. She’ll want to be with her mother. Leaving is the kindest thing we could do right now.”

“Without saying goodbye?” Philip wondered aloud.

“She may come out of her room tonight. But let’s be ready to leave in the morning,” said Mrs. Allen.

“Why go to London if not to help Philip?” Agnes asked her, almost despairingly.

Mrs. Allen set aside her knitting. “Really, Agnes. You and I have a thousand things to do in London. We can start at the orphanage.”

If Mrs. Allen kept his mother busy, there could be no objection to their all going together. All three of them went upstairs to arrange for their departure. Philip was pleased to have something to do. He was unsure about leaving Sophia alone so soon after she found out what a blackguard Burns was, but Mrs. Allen knew Sophia as well as anyone. He had to trust her. Sophia’s mother was probably the best person to comfort her at such a time, though Philip longed to take that duty upon himself. But any conversation he imagined between them was awkward. What could he say? “I am sorry your fiancé is a fugitive. I hope you will take me as a replacement.” That would not do.

Instead, he penned a quick note, and, learning from his mistakes, let her know exactly what he would do in London. He explained he hoped not only to disambiguate her father’s will, but also to finish his painting and present it to Lord Elston. That would require time. He expected to be gone for four to six weeks. He told her as much in the letter and left it on her desk in the library.

The following morning, Philip, his mother, and Mrs. Allen were up early, making final preparations for their departure. Sophia hadn’t come out of her room. When Philip worried about this, Mrs. Allen reassured him that going to London was the best thing they could do for her.

During their breakfast, Charles stumbled into the room.

“Where’s… my…cuzzin? It seems… she’s teh ruin uss-all!” He said this as if it were a great joke. Philip rose from his chair.