Sleepless in Southampton by Chasity Bowlin

Chapter Nine

When Sophie exited the drawing room on the viscount’s arm and stepped into the main corridor, there were boxes, trunks and valises everywhere. It appeared as if the entire household were on the verge of vacating the premises. “Heavens, what has happened?”

“My aunt, Horatia, has arrived,” Viscount Marchwood explained. “It’s always a bit of a… well, a mess. Aunt Horatia likes to make an entrance.”

Sophie stared at the chaos before them. “That is putting it quite mildly. Does she always travel so—that is to say, she seems very well prepared.” It was a relief to be talking about someone or something else. Their inadvertent confidences and speculation about one another’s innermost motivations had created a feeling of intimacy between them that left Sophie very uncomfortable and that only confirmed for her that their relationship was a dangerous one.

The viscount laughed. “I think it is worse than usual. Aunt Horatia has been a confirmed spinster for many, many years. And she has recently met a gentleman and they are betrothed. He is from the north, you see, and involved in trade. I believe he owns several quite successful textile mills. Aunt Horatia is likely concerned about what will be said when they enter society together here and so she means to dress to the nines to display her social superiority lest anyone think to challenge her choice.”

“Would they challenge her choice then?” Sophie asked. It didn’t take a great deal of intelligence to see that he was trying to illustrate how remarkably unconventional everyone in his family was.

“Never to her face,” he admitted. “I daresay many people will say unkind things when her back is turned. But she will not know about them, will she? Thus freeing her from any obligation to care.”

“You say that as if it is so very simple!”

“It can be,” he stated. “One simply has to decide what is more important: one’s own happiness or the opinions of others. I personally know what I value more. But come, let me introduce you to my aunt.”

Sophie permitted him to escort her into the morning room where the duchess preferred to receive guests, dodging servants who were carting boxes and cases to and fro. The duchess had returned and was seated next to a woman on a settee who was much older than Sophie would have first imagined. The duke was standing behind the duchess. And standing next to whom she could only assume was Horatia was a man that Sophie instantly recognized. In fact, taking one glance at him, she recalled the countless times she had seen him and felt her gut clench. He was known to her because he’d come once per quarter to the Darrow School, met with Effie, paid her a significant sum of money for the care of one of her pupils and then left without ever actually seeing the girl, whomever she was, that he was there to support.

A glance at his face showed that he recognized her, as well. He stared at her with something akin to dread. She knew his secret shame and they were not at all on equal footing. As someone who would be marrying into the family, he was on far more secure footing than she could ever hope to be.

“Ah, here you are,” the duchess said with a warm and welcoming smile. “Henry has been showing Miss Upchurch around Southampton today. We are ever so happy to have her with us. She’s been a true blessing for poor Philippa. Miss Upchurch, this is my sister-in-law, Lady Horatia Meredith and her betrothed, Mr. William Carlton. Horatia, Mr. Carlton, please meet Miss Sophia Upchurch. And Mr. Carlton, of course, you know Henry.”

“How lovely for Philippa to have such good company,” Lady Horatia said, though there was a slight sneer to her lips and a coolness to her tone that belied her kind words. “But how odd that you should be on Henry’s arm today instead of with her.”

There had been no attempt at all to disguise her disapproval and Sophie found herself bristling under it. “Lady Philippa was just with us on the terrace but, alas, after her visit with Dr. Blake this morning, she was quite exhausted and has gone upstairs to rest. I’m certain, after your long journey, that you are in complete sympathy, Lady Horatia.”

“Of course, she was. Poor dear! And yes, we are naturally very tired from our journey, but I am more hale and hearty than poor Philippa,” Lady Horatia said. Still, the woman’s gaze roamed over Sophie and then over Henry, as if they had been engaged in something scandalous.

“Where were you off to, Henry?” the duchess asked. “You are normally not so sociable! Why, we must threaten you on pain of death to make you engage with society! Yet, you show no qualms about squiring Miss Upchurch around!”

“I had run into Lady Hemsley this morning,” he said. “Apparently she had been instrumental in getting Lady Parkhurst to seek a companion. She felt quite responsible for Miss Upchurch’s current situation and wished to meet her to be assured all is well.”

The duchess snorted in derision. “Unlikely. She was no doubt hoping for some bit of scandal or gossip to pass around. That woman! Good heavens.”

“Lady Hemsley?” Lady Horatia parroted. “My goodness, I would have thought she’d given up the proverbial ghost some years back. Though I daresay it is a pity about Lady Parkhurst. She could be difficult, but she was a good woman. Still, I suppose it is to the benefit of Miss Upchurch, is it not?”

“How so, Lady Horatia?” Sophie asked. She had the distinct feeling she would not like the woman’s answer.

“Well, my dear, rather like a cat, you’ve landed in a much more pleasant position than the one which you started in. After all, it’s well known that Lady Parkhurst, despite being very deserving of my good opinion of her, could also be quite difficult and very exacting, particularly of those in her employ.”

The duchess made a slight moue, a clear indication of her disagreement. “That woman was wicked. How you can think so highly of her, Horatia, I’ll never know. I shall never forget how horrid she was to me when I first married. She said all manner of awful things about me. I was called a fortune hunter and an adventuress!”

“Well, she’s hardly here now to be punished for it and continued discussion of her character flaws hardly does any of us credit,” the viscount pointed out. “I am curious about something, though.”

“And what is that?” the duchess asked just as a maid entered with a tray bearing refreshments.

“If you disliked Lady Parkhurst so much, how is that she came to recommend Dr. Blake’s services for Philippa?” He posed the question as if it were simply idle curiosity, but it was quite pointed, even if no one else clued in to that.

The duchess shrugged. “I didn’t like the woman, but she was a font of useful information. Nothing occurred in Southampton without her knowledge. I believe that we spoke in passing about Philippa’s need for a new physician when we’d gone to take the waters, that she simply offered up the suggestion. It is rather strange now that I think about it, though!”

“How so?” the viscount pressed.

The duchess poured tea with a steady hand as she answered, “Lady Parkhurst, to my knowledge, did not aspire to be helpful to anyone. Ever. Certainly not to anyone in this family. As for our own long-standing tolerance of one another, we made it a point to be civil to one another at social events but we never sought out opportunities for conversation. And that day, Lady Parkhurst made a concerted effort to engage us in conversation. Perhaps it was an olive branch. Maybe she had some sort of inkling that her time on this earth was at an end and wished to mend her fences, so to speak.”

“I think that is an excellent observation, your grace,” Mr. Carlton stated. “Very insightful. I feel most people seek to mend fences, as it were, when they sense their time is at an end.”

What an ingratiating little toad he was! Sophie watched him simper and smile with a feeling of disgust. Every time she’d ever seen him at the Darrow School, he’d been snide and superior. As if, in spite of being there as a direct result of his own indiscretions, the entire sordid mess was somehow beneath his dignity.

“Mr. Carlton, please forgive me, but I cannot help but think perhaps we have met before,” Sophie stated. “Are you much in London?”

The man’s face paled and his expression became pinched. But he didn’t answer. As he stammered helplessly, Viscount Marchwood’s aunt stepped in.

“William goes to London quite frequently,” Lady Horatia said. “He has many business interests there. Though, I cannot imagine where the two of you might have crossed paths. You are a companion, after all, and he has no reason to pay calls on anyone sickly or elderly enough to require such a person.”

“I have only recently left school to begin to such a career, my lady,” Sophie said. “Perhaps you are a benefactor for the school? It is not a charity school, per se, but Miss Darrow does often take on students who are not in a position to afford tuition. Despite that, it is very well respected.”

“If not a charity school, then what? If students’ families cannot pay—if they have them at all—and others must provide for them, how can it be anything else?” Lady Horatia harrumphed. “For women? It ought to be a charity matchmaker! Teach young women to get husbands and not careers!”

The duchess frowned. Her expression was one of confusion, as if she didn’t understand her sister-in-law’s vitriol. “I hardly think that is necessary. Many young women, if they have no family to ensure that the match made for them is in their best interest, should certainly have some sort of skill to support themselves in the world. Horatia, I am shocked at you. I had always thought you something of a reformer when it came to strictures placed on women in our society. You have been a staunch supporter of such causes for as long as I can recall!”

Lady Horatia’s expression tightened into a smile that was anything but amused. “Perhaps all it took was meeting a gentleman of quality, a man of his word, to help me see the error of my ways. I have learned now that a woman, when faced with the right man, does not need independence.”

The duchess let out a sigh. “I see.” Then she looked up at the viscount for a moment before her gaze drifted to Sophie and a slight smile curved her lips. “Sometimes fate is all the matchmaker a girl requires. Don’t you think, Miss Upchurch?”

With the tables turned and all gazes expectantly on her, some warm and others quite glacial, Sophie felt a flush creeping over her cheeks. “I think we are hardly in a position to understand something so capricious as fate, your grace. If you’ll pardon me, I’d like to go up and check on Philippa.”

“Certainly, my dear.”

“It was lovely to meet you… for the first time, Miss Upchurch,” Mr. Carlton stated, his tone infused with a warning.

“Indeed,” Lady Horatia said, looking at Mr. Carlton with surprise. “Quite lovely, for however long our acquaintance should last.”

*

Henry had nonotion of what was going on. But he was certain that Mr. William Carlton was not the upstanding gentleman his aunt claimed and he was quite certain that Miss Upchurch had seen him before. The man’s expression when they had entered the room had been one that could only be described as terror. He’d looked at Miss Upchurch as if, well, as if she knew his secrets. Both curious and concerned, Henry knew he’d have to get it out of her later.

“Forgive me, my dear,” Mr. Carlton said. “But I must go out. There is a business associate in town that I must meet with and time is of the essence.”

“Of course, my love,” Horatia said, her voice so sickeningly sweet it was a wonder that such a tone could come from a woman who had routinely been described as acerbic.

When Carlton had left, Henry noted her pinched expression. Not all was well in that relationship, whatever she might choose to say. “Tell me, Aunt Horatia, how did you and Mr. Carlton meet?” Henry asked casually as he took one of the remaining seats.

“He was most gallant,” Horatia said. “My carriage was disabled as I was traveling back from Birmingham to Manchester. If it hadn’t been for Mr. Carlton, I might well have frozen to death on the roadside.”

Henry had never understood has aunt’s desire to remain at a crumbling estate in the north, but then there was a great deal about Horatia that he didn’t understand. She’d worn her spinsterhood like a badge of honor for as long as he could remember. There had been countless speeches from her on why she never wanted to be something so menial as a wife. And, yet, here she was, on the cusp of tying herself forever to a man who appeared to be less than forthright.

“That small bit of misfortune was clearly a stroke of luck for you then, as it seems you are quite taken with him and he with you,” the duchess remarked.

“Indeed, Cecile,” Horatia agreed, ducking her head as a blush stole over her cheeks. “I adore Mr. Carlton and he has certainly given every indication that the feeling is mutual. He is most gracious and most gallant and I count myself very fortunate to have found him when I did.”

It rang with sincerity. She meant it, Henry thought. Whatever secrets Carlton was hiding, it was apparent that Horatia was completely enamored with the man. Did he feel the same for his aunt, or was it some sort of charade? Horatia, despite being somewhat stern in demeanor, was a handsome woman. But she was also a woman of remarkable wealth.

“How very romantic!” the duchess cried, clapping her hands together with glee. “Pay attention, Henry! That’s the sort of thing that will turn a girl’s head, you know.”

“And have you found a suitable girl that you wish to court, Henry?” Horatia asked.

“I have expressed a fondness for Mr. Upchurch and have informed her of my intent to court her when she is amenable to such,” he stated.

“When she is amenable?” Horatia snapped. “What in heaven’s name does that mean? Amenable? Does she have so many suitors then? Does she not realize what a great honor you pay her when she is clearly poor and has no family? And yes, I know all about this school of hers in London. Everyone knows about it. Castoffs and bastards!”

“Horatia!” the duchess snapped. “That is quite enough! Miss Upchurch is a guest in our home. As for where she came from, I am far more interested in who she is and how she comports herself. She is all that is elegant and kind. If Henry wishes to court her, I say I am all for it. And if she has her reasons for wanting to be cautious in such a thing, well, more young women should certainly take her example.”

Horatia was far from chastened. “It is terribly irresponsible of you, Cecile, to condone such an attachment! The girl’s very existence is tainted by scandal.”

“Enough!” Henry hadn’t intended to shout, but the word echoed about the room and every inhabitant had grown so silent that even the sound of a pin dropping would have been like cannon fire. “When it comes to my attachments and entanglements, they are my decision. They will not be reached by committee. And as for your opinions of Miss Upchurch, Aunt Horatia, they are for your consumption only. While you are here, I expect that you will treat her not only with civility, but with warmth and kindness—even if the latter are completely without sincerity.”

Horatia drew back as if deeply offended. “You have never spoken to me in such a manner.”

“I have never, until today, had cause. I am ashamed of you, frankly. You have brought your betrothed here… a man who is not of the peerage and who is even in trade. He has been welcomed with open arms and your choice in the matter has not been called into question. Why you would indulge in such hypocrisy as to then challenge anyone else’s choices, I cannot fathom,” Henry stated. “Now, I expect that at dinner your treatment of Miss Upchurch will be dramatically different. Good afternoon.”