Sleepless in Southampton by Chasity Bowlin
Chapter Sixteen
When they reached the house, Philippa was utterly exhausted. It was apparent in her slow steps and the fact that each one seemed to become more difficult for the girl. Sophie knew better than to offer the girl her assistance. It was bad enough that the footmen were waiting with a sedan chair for her just inside the doors. It was something Philippa had confessed to her during their outing. She would allow herself to be squired around indoors in such a manner, but her pride would not permit it in public where she might be observed.
“You’ve done too much! You are completely worn out,” Sophie clucked her tongue in concern as they reached the top step and the butler opened the door for them. They had stayed at the bathing area for longer than intended, but it had been remarkable to see Philippa so full of joy and life.
“Perhaps,” Philippa agreed with a wan smile. “But I’m quite pleased with the day. And I strongly suspect that tomorrow shall be even better. Especially given what I now know. I cannot thank you enough for that.”
“Do not thank me,” Sophie said. “I’m just so relieved that you believed me.”
They had not quite reached the stairs and the footmen waiting for her when the duke emerged from his study at the end of the corridor. His expression was dark and there was a tension emanating from him that was unmistakable.
Even in her exhausted state, Philippa sensed it. Her steps faltered and the last vestiges of color fled from her pale face. “Is everything all right, Papa? It isn’t—how is Mother?”
“Your mother is fine, Philippa. This does not concern you, Child. You will go on to your room. But, Miss Upchurch, we require your presence in my study.”
“We?” Sophie asked.
“Yes. My sister and her betrothed have some questions for you. I presume you know what this is in reference to,” he stated coldly.
“I do not, but I shall be there directly,” Sophie answered.
“Now, if you please, Miss Upchurch. This is not a matter that can wait,” the duke stated firmly. His tone was cold and snappish, indicating that he was at the end of his patience.
Sophie’s heart sank and bile rose in her throat. Whatever was happening, it could not be good. There was something foul afoot and she was without allies. Philippa was too weak to do anything and she had no notion of where Henry had gone to. There was no doubt in her mind that William Carlton was the architect of it all. He saw her as a threat. That much was clear. It was apparent he would mitigate that threat by any means necessary.
“I will come with you,” Philippa offered, clutching Sophie’s arm.
“I don’t think your father will permit it,” Sophie stated. “And you need to rest. You’ve overtaxed yourself today.”
“But I fear they will send you away!” Philippa said.
Sophie stepped closer and hugged her friend tightly. She very much feared the same thing. Next to Philippa’s ear, she whispered, “Ask one of the maids what occurred. The servants always know. And when Henry returns, tell him to find me at the inn where I found him my first day here.”
Philippa nodded. “All right. You will be well? You have funds?”
She had some. She had the small amount she’d traveled with. So long as she didn’t have to secure a room for the night, all would be well. “I will be fine. Let me face whatever this is and get it done.”
Philippa hugged her then, tightly. “Be careful. I’ve never seen Papa so angry. So cold! Whatever it is, I know you didn’t do it. You couldn’t have. You’re the most wonderful person I know and the dearest friend I could ever have made!”
“Do not trust Mr. Carlton,” Sophie warned. “He has your aunt in thrall, but the man is a scoundrel. I know it. Remember what I told you!”
Sophie turned away from her friend and made her way to the study. Stepping inside, she found the duchess softly sobbing into her handkerchief while Lady Horatia sat cold-eyed and unbending beside her. Mr. Carlton was standing near the window, looking inordinately pleased with himself.
“There she is,” Carlton said. He pointed one long finger directly at her. “The thief.”
Someone had seen her sneaking to the kitchen the night before, Sophie realized. It was all just a misunderstanding. When she explained about the elixir and what she’d learned from the apothecary, all would be well.
“I’m not certain what I am meant to have taken, but I assure you I am no thief, your grace. I believe this must be some sort of misunderstanding.”
The duke reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a necklace. It was a stunning piece of jewelry, all but dripping with diamonds and pearls as it draped over his hand. “Do you have an explanation, Miss Upchurch?”
“An explanation for what?”
“Why was Lady Horatia’s necklace found in your room, Miss Upchurch?” the duchess demanded. “If it is a misunderstanding as you say, then surely there will be a logical explanation.”
Fear was an ugly and dark thing. It swelled inside her, making her feel as if she could not breathe, like there was not enough space left inside her for the very air she required. Swallowing with some difficulty, Sophie managed to say, “Well, I can’t imagine why it would have been there. I certainly did not place it there, your grace!”
“It was in her room because she stole it. She saw me wearing it at dinner last night, coveted it for herself and took it,” Horatia stated. “I saw the way you stared at it, Miss Upchurch!”
“I assure you that is not so. Not to mention, I would have had no opportunity to take it from your chamber,” Sophie replied.
“How could you betray us this way? We’ve been nothing but kind to you. We welcomed you into our home!” the duchess wailed.
“I have no explanation,” Sophie stated. “Your grace, I have never seen that necklace before. Lady Horatia states she wore it last night, but if she did, I certainly paid it no heed. If it was in my room, it was not because I placed it th—”
“Enough!” the duke shouted.
It was so loud, the bark of his voice so vicious, that Sophie flinched and drew back. She didn’t say another word. Instead, she went completely still and simply waited. Because while they had welcomed her into their home, it was quite clear that in the overall scheme of things, she would not be believed. Because she was beneath them. In their estimation, she would never be above reproach. Impoverished and illegitimate, why would they believe her when a successful businessman and his betrothed were willing to swear against her?
“Your thievery is bad enough, but I will not be lied to, Miss Upchurch!” the duke snapped. “You will tell me the truth. Where were you last evening?”
“I was in my room,” Sophie replied.
“And when a maid saw you in the corridor in the wee hours of the morning… where were you going then?” Mr. Carlton demanded.
“Which maid?” Sophie asked.
“Does it matter?” Carlton countered. “When Horatia discovered her missing necklace and one of the maids discovered it in your chamber, you lost the right to ask any questions. A servant stepped forward and admitted she had observed you skulking about. Do you deny it?”
“I do not deny that I had left my room, but the only place I went was to the kitchen,” Sophie admitted. “Henry—”
“Viscount Marchwood!” Horatia corrected. “Address your betters as is their right, girl. The poor boy will be devastated to think he brought such perfidy into this house!”
“And what were you doing in the kitchen in the middle of the night?” the duke demanded. “Did we not feed you well enough at dinner? Must you raid the larders in the darkness, then?”
Sophie had no reply. She didn’t wish to tell a lie but she could not tell the truth, because they were unwilling to hear it. Nothing she could say to them would make them question the narrative they’d been provided by Lady Horatia and Mr. William Carlton. And telling them about Dr. Blake in that moment could make them dig in their heels and insist that he continue treating Philippa regardless of her feelings on the matter.
One question burned inside her. Why? What possible thing could she have done to deserve such treatment? Yes, she knew William Carlton’s secret, that he’d likely sired a child out of wedlock. But she’d not speak against him to Lady Horatia or the duke. Why would she? “Am I to be arrested then?”
The duke sighed. The duchess wept. Carlton smirked. Lady Horatia simply remained stoic and cold.
“No, Miss Upchurch. My daughter has a true fondness for you and I would not see her hurt further by watching you dragged from our house to the gaol. It is for her sake and the sake of my nephew that the matter will go no further,” the duke stated flatly. “Your bags have been packed for you. You will leave this house with precisely what you entered with and nothing more. You may wait in the foyer under the watchful eye of our butler. I want you gone from my sight. And should you show your face here again, this mercy I have shown you will be rescinded. No matter the cost or upset to my family.”
Dismissed, disgraced and more hurt than she cared to admit, Sophie did just that. She left the study without another word and retreated to the foyer where the servants whispered and stared. Ultimately, a footman delivered her bags, dropping them at her feet with a tad more force than necessary. Silently, the butler opened the door for her, a cue to exit.
Picking up her valises, Sophie straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin and exited the house. But as her feet touched the first step, a tear fell. It was followed by a stream of others; hot, silent and utterly pointless.
