A Family of Her Own by Rose Pearson
Prologue
Watton House, Alnerton, 1818
The yuletide season was half done, as family and friends gathered at Watton House for the Watts’ traditional Christmas Eve party. Everyone in the house was in merry spirits, glad to be reunited and happy that they had so much to be grateful for. Sophie Lefebvre had joined her dear friend, Lady Charlotte Watts, and the inimitable Mrs. Watts this afternoon, in decorating the entire house with evergreens. Garlands of holly and ivy were strewn artfully over every available surface, and kissing balls of rosemary and mistletoe hung in hallways and doorways, so those who wished might steal a kiss from a loved one. A mountain of gifts that would not be opened until Twelfth Night stood in the corner of the parlor, near the fire – which crackled in the hearth, loud enough to punctuate your sentences.
William Pierce, Earl Cott, and his friend Claveston St. John, the Earl of Wycliff, stood with Mr. Watts and the Duke of Mormont by the mantel discussing matters of business, as they so often did. Mrs. Watts sat with Charlotte and her new baby, Emily, on a red velvet chaise, recently purchased on a rare trip to London. Lady Charlotte’s husband, Captain James Watts, and Lord William’s new wife, Lady Mary, played on the floor with Charlotte’s son from a previous marriage, George.
Cook had outdone herself, as she always did at Christmas. She had laid on a fine spread of cold roasted meats, soups and cheeses, mince pies, tansy pudding, and Charlotte Russe, accompanied by a rum-spiked posset and a richly spiced mulled wine.
“I am glad you were able to come, Father,” Charlotte said, smiling up at the Duke of Mormont as she caressed the soft, downy head of her infant daughter.
“Yes, we feared you would not find the time to visit with us this year,” Mrs. Watts added.
Though she could only claim to be the step-grandmother of darling Emily, and even less to little George as he was the child of Lady Charlotte’s first marriage, Mrs. Watts was a very doting admirer of both children. Sophie couldn’t blame her, as Emily was as precious a babe as she’d ever seen and George a lively, but delightful boy. He had taken to being a big brother with good grace, and paid attention to his sister’s every need, rushing in from whatever he might be up to if she cried, and holding her carefully whenever permitted. It was quite the pleasure to see such tenderness and affection in one so young.
“Yes,” Lord William said, smiling at his father. “I am glad your business in the North allowed you to return in time to be with family and friends this Yuletide.”
The duke bowed graciously, but his gentle blush told Sophie that he was touched that his presence seemed so welcome. He was known for his prickly character and rarely had time for the pleasures of life – preferring to spend most of his considerable energies upon the running of his estates and the management of his investments. “How could I possibly refuse, when there is so much to be grateful for this Christmas, and such a fine repast to be enjoyed.” He gestured towards the bountiful table, almost groaning under the weight of the dishes set upon it.
Everyone smiled. “Cook has prepared a fine feast, that is certain,” Captain Watts commented, helping himself to a mince pie as he moved to kiss his wife upon her cheek. Charlotte blushed at the act, but the smile on her face showed the great affection between them.
“She certainly has,” his father, Mr. Watts, agreed. “Now, who would like to join me in a hand of whist?” He indicated the card table set up in the corner of the room. William and Lord Wycliffe sat down around it after filling their glasses with more of the mulled wine and waited for Mr. Watts and the duke to take their places. Soon, their game, though good-natured enough, grew more competitive and their cries and moans made the women laugh.
Sophie watched from her seat by the window, her eyes drifting from one small group to the other. Everyone had their place and knew where they belonged in this warm and welcoming family. William, Captain Watts, and Lord Wycliffe had known one another since they were young and had attended school and university together. Charlotte was the sister of William, the wife of Captain Watts, and mother to the two children. Mrs. Watts had been William and Charlotte’s nurse and had married Mr. Watts who was not only the duke’s solicitor but his friend. Their bonds were long-standing and unbreakable.
Yet Sophie knew that her place here was tenuous at best. She knew that Charlotte looked upon her as a friend - and Sophie valued the young woman’s affections and returned them most gratefully - but such sentiment did not change the fact that she had come into Charlotte’s service as a paid companion. Despite the welcoming nature of the company here tonight and her years in Charlotte’s service, in recent months she’d come to feel isolated from them all.
She wasn’t sure when it happened, precisely, but if she had to hazard a guess, it was soon after Charlotte and Captain Watts had married. During Charlotte’s first marriage, to the Earl of Benton, she had valued Sophie’s presence as he had been often away. Upon his passing, Charlotte had needed Sophie as a shoulder to cry on, then as a friend in her struggle to win the man she had loved since she was a girl.
But Charlotte had finally won her dashing captain, and the evidence of their happiness was plain to see. Charlotte’s attentions were now solely focused upon her husband and the new family they’d created – as it should be, and little Emily’s birth had only further cemented their affections for one another. Yet, it meant that Sophie’s position was tenuous at best, and obsolete at worst. Charlotte now needed a nanny, no longer a lady’s companion. Sophie would soon have to think upon her future because it seemed unlikely that she would be able to remain here indefinitely – though she might wish to.
“Do pass her here, Charlotte,” Mrs. Watts said reaching for baby Emily. “Why don’t you accompany George on the pianoforte? I know he’s been learning some carols especially for tonight?”
George beamed, and Charlotte reluctantly passed her child to Mrs. Watts. “I think that a wonderful idea, don’t you, George?”
“Yes, Mama,” George said, hurrying to fetch his book of carols from the music rack beside the pianoforte. He handed the music to his mother who helped him up onto the broad stool and sat down beside him. She flexed her long fingers then placed them upon the keys, playing a couple of swift arpeggios to warm them up, before launching into an enthusiastic, if not perfect, rendition of O Come All Ye Faithful, followed by The Twelve Days of Christmas. George sang proudly, his little chest puffed out, delighted to have all eyes upon him.
Sophie smiled on the outside and clapped for each song with the delight they deserved, but inside she felt sad. She did not begrudge any member of this wonderful family their happiness, but it sometimes hurt that such pleasures would never be hers. At twenty-eight, she was well past the age where she might secure a husband and have children of her own, and whilst she’d not felt the lack before now, since Emily’s arrival Sophie had found herself wishing that she might become a wife and mother, too.
The carols over, Charlotte took her place at the card table, displacing Lord Wycliffe, who prepared himself a plate of food and moved to sit by Sophie on the window seat. He looked around the room admiringly. “You truly have everything you need, Lady Watts,” he said between bites of a particularly good Stilton. “Your husband and children, and your former nurse,” he nodded towards Mrs. Watts, “and might I say, that in Mrs. Watts you are also blessed to have a good friend at your side. Such fortune is yours.”
Charlotte smiled and Mrs. Watts blushed as she nodded her agreement that she was indeed more than just Lady Charlotte’s old nurse and her husband’s stepmother. “Thank you, Lord Wycliffe. I do indeed feel blessed to have the very best of people around me.”
“You have so many doting assistants now that poor Miss Lefebvre has hardly anything to do,” he chuckled. Sophie prickled. How could he have so read her mind? She had only met the Earl of Wycliffe once before, at Lord William and Lady Mary’s wedding, earlier in the year. He had asked her to dance, which had been most gallant of him, and she had been very grateful.
“First you do not include her in your list, and now it appears that you are suggesting that dear Sophie is not needed,” Charlotte said, raising an eyebrow quizzically. “I do hope that I am mistaken in your meaning, my Lord, for I can assure you that she is still my most treasured companion. I should be lost without her.”
Lord Wycliffe didn’t look at all chastened by Charlotte’s gentle scolding. “She would be better put to use at Compton,” he said with a shrug. “My sister, Gertrude, is in dire need of a governess, someone who can guide her into Society, teach her comportment and manners.” He glanced at Sophie his eyes full of mischief. “And it wouldn’t hurt her French accent, either. Miss Lefebvre’s is so very charming.”
Sophie felt the prickling heat of a blush rise from her chest to her cheeks. She was not only embarrassed by such an unexpected compliment but was also surprised that the earl would speak so frankly of family matters in public. She would have imagined that the Duke and Duchess of Compton would have every tutor that a daughter might need, in place to mold their offspring ready for their Coming Out.
“Gertrude is the very devil, and you know it,” Charlotte reminded him. “Your poor parents have yet to find anyone who will stay long enough to have any impact on her. Both of you have been spoiled, your entire lives.”
“I cannot say that I disagree,” Lord Wycliffe said amiably. “They made up for their absence in our lives by ensuring we had everything we could possibly need – if nothing at all that we actually wanted.”
“I haven’t ever heard you complaining,” William teased his friend.
“And you never will,” Lord Wycliffe confirmed. “I like getting what I want, when I want it.”
Everyone laughed. But Lord Wycliffe turned to Sophie. “I do mean it,” he assured her. “Despite their absence – or perhaps because of it - my dear Mama and busy Papa are very particular in whom they employ, and only those of the highest caliber are deemed suitable. I am sure that they would be delighted to know that they might secure the services of Miss Sophie Lefebvre, companion to the dowager Lady Benton.”
She bowed her head gently, not enjoying the feeling of all eyes in the room resting upon her. “Thank you, my Lord,” she said softly. “You are most kind. I cannot deny that such a position would, indeed, be an honor, but I do believe I ‘ave all I need here.”
“Are you trying to steal my friend?” Charlotte asked, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the earl as if trying to make out his intentions.
“Certainly not,” he protested. “How could I ever steal your friend from you? She is much too devoted to leave your side. I daresay, she will spend all her days in your company.”
The others laughed, but Sophie did not. The earl’s observation was startling. Did he truly think she would never leave Charlotte’s side? That she would spend the rest of her days in this house? Much as she loved Charlotte, and the home she had made here at Watton house, the suggestion she might never leave it was somewhat disconcerting, as if he were confirming her own beliefs that a marriage was most certainly impossible – and that she had no place anywhere else. A heavy breath left her lungs as she sipped at her mulled wine. She had tried, for so long, to resist the melancholy thoughts that reminded her of her situation, but now, as she sat amidst the happy faces of the Watts family, she couldn’t deny them.
“Sophie, will you read to me?” George asked her, squeezing between her and the Earl of Wycliffe on the window seat.
“Of course, George,” she said, pulling him closer, glad of the distraction. She may not have children of her own, but she loved George and Emily dearly. It would be enough. It had to be.
The rest of the evening passed without incident. When the time came, Sophie took the children up to bed, exhausted and fractious after all the excitement of company. She was glad of a few moments away from those around her. She had never felt so alone since she’d become Charlotte’s companion. Things had so clearly changed now, and she could no longer deny it to herself.
As she made her way back downstairs, she encountered the Earl of Wycliffe in the corridor. “Miss Lefebvre, might I speak with you, just for a moment,” he said earnestly.
“Of course, my Lord,” she said, though she didn’t feel comfortable at all in this tiny space, alone with him. He was a very handsome man, and as he had confessed earlier was used to getting his own way. He had charisma and charm – and was just the kind of man that might pose a danger to someone such as Sophie.
He stepped closer and met her gaze. His dark brown eyes were mesmerizing. “Miss Lefebvre, I wish to sincerely apologize for my comments earlier. It was wrong of me to suggest that you might not be needed here any longer. I know you have been a true friend to Lady Watts for many years, and that she would never wish to be parted from you.”
“I hope so, but you were not entirely wrong,” Sophie admitted. “Lady Charlotte has little need of a companion, these days.”
“I have seen Lady Charlotte blossom, since you came into her life,” Lord Wycliffe said sincerely. “My sister has need of that. I am her brother, and I do my best, but there are some things for which a woman is better equipped.” Sophie smiled. He suddenly seemed so awkward. English men, she had noticed, were not good at expressing their emotions, or matters linked to them. It was rather endearing to see the suave and sophisticated earl so ill-at-ease.
“In all deference to my friends and the good home which they have given you, Miss Lefebvre, should you ever decide that you wished to take a new position, I would be delighted if you might consider us. Gertrude has need of someone just like you.”
Sophie could not hide her look of surprise. She had thought he was merely jesting earlier, but it seemed that he truly meant what he had said. It was certainly something that she would need to consider – as it was becoming more and more clear to Sophie that she could not remain here, at Watton House, indefinitely.
“Wycliffe, the carriage is waiting,” William called as he emerged into the corridor.
“I must go. Good night, Miss Lefebvre,” Lord Wycliffe said, bowing to her politely before he turned and followed William and Mary, and the Duke of Mormont outside into the cool December night. Sophie watched him go, his words repeating in her mind.
“What did he want?” Charlotte asked as she joined Sophie at the door to wave their guests off. “He seemed quite intense.”
“Nothing,” Sophie replied, forcing a smile as the carriage rumbled away.
Her friend chuckled. “Claveston St. John has always been an odd one,” she said with a good-natured smile as she shut the door and the two women headed upstairs to bed. “Good night, Sophie.”
Sophie smiled. “Good night, Charlotte.”
