A Family of Her Own by Rose Pearson

Chapter One

Six months later, Watton House

The wind howled around the estate, making the glass rattle in the windowpanes and loose doors clatter. The household staff rushed to secure them and to close the inner shutters in many of the rooms, to protect the inhabitants should the wind get strong enough to start breaking the glass. Thunder clapped loud enough to shake the casement windows, the lightning sending jagged fingers of light across the sky, illuminating the distant woods.

Sophie stood by the window in the parlor, resisting closing the shutters as she watched the gale as it ripped trees from their roots and buffeted everything in its path. She placed her hand on the glass, the tremble rippling through her palm as the thunder rolled once more. The very environment was alive.

“It’s quite a storm,” Charlotte said, peering over Sophie’s shoulder, then returned to her spot by the fire.

“Indeed,” Sophie replied and turned just enough to flash Charlotte a smile and see her take her fractious daughter from Mrs. Watts’ arms. Charlotte sang softly to the baby, the child’s soft coos barely audible between the performances of the raging storm. George burst into the room, grinning from ear to ear, and joined her at the window. Sophie gently smoothed his curls as they watched the roiling mass of grey clouds as it rumbled on overhead.

Both George and Emily were lovely children and Sophie adored them equally. But in recent days she felt further and further away from the family she had once considered herself a part of. It had become quite clear to Sophie, as she’d watched from the edges of every gathering throughout the long month of Christmas festivities, that she was on the outside.

Sophie still addressed both Charlotte and William with their titles when they were in company other than the direct family, as was fit and proper for her to do so. Yet, she couldn’t help feeling that such formality would not be required if she was truly a friend and not a companion, Charlotte or William would be sufficient. She knew that she was permitted the license of calling them by their first names when in private, because of the closeness of their bond, yet it had come to hurt that those formalities were still necessary elsewhere.

“I should almost be afraid to stand near that window, Sophie,” Mrs. Watts admitted, as she picked up her embroidery. “I would be afraid of the dead branches from the oak flying through it. Can you not close the shutters now?”

“It isn’t as bad as that, my dear,” Mr. Watts assured his wife, though he didn’t once look up from his chess game. He and Captain Watts had been engaged in a game for the better part of an hour with no clear winner in sight.

Mrs. White, George’s nurse entered the parlor looking flustered. “Oh, I am sorry, my Lady,” she huffed. “I didn’t realize he was here with you. I’ve been looking for him everywhere. As soon as the thunder started, he bolted.”

“It’s quite all right, Mrs. White,” Charlotte assured the kindly older woman. “We all know George’s feeling about storms. He will be quite fine here. You may have some time to yourself. He’ll be quite safe with his dear Aunt Sophie,” Charlotte assured her with a grin. “They share a morbid fascination for destruction.” Mrs. White nodded and excused herself with a bobbed curtsey.

“Come here, my boy,” Captain Watts called to his son, patting his knee. George looked up at Sophie, then at his father. “Come on, sit with me. I’ll teach you a new game to pass the time while the storm rages.”

“May I not count the lightning with Aunt Sophie?” George countered.

“You may,” Captain Watts said, but looked genuinely saddened that George did not wish to join him.

“The storm will last some time. Perhaps we can count the lightning and thunder later?” Sophie urged the small boy. Her encouragement seemed to work. “Your father doesn’t often ‘ave the time to teach you chess, you’d best make the most of it.” James laughed at her teasing and rose from his seat. Crossing the room in a few short strides, he collected his stepson and carried him back to the game with him.

They were a beautiful family, and Sophie envied them. God forgive her, but she did. She wished that it could be her life - but it wasn’t and never would be. She was twenty-eight. The time for her to have such things was long past. “Do excuse me,” she said, moving away from the window and towards the door.

“Are you quite well, Sophie?” Charlotte asked kindly.

“Very well,” Sophie assured her, though she felt suddenly very cold and alone. “I need to write to my father.”

“Please, send him and all of your family our regards as always,” Charlotte replied.

Sophie smiled wanly. Her father and Charlotte were on fond terms after a single meeting some years previously. He would be delighted to know that Charlotte had been considerate enough to send her regards. “Certainly.”

Once in her room, Sophie closed the door, leaning against the back of it as she tried to catch her breath. It was becoming more and more difficult to be around the family she loved, and it pained her that she should feel that way. She paced up and down the length of the large and comfortable room. She had been Charlotte’s companion for nine wonderful years. Yet, she could no longer bear seeing her friend enjoy everything that she never would.

Christmas Eve and Lord Wycliffe’s unexpected offer had popped into her thoughts in recent weeks more often than she cared to admit. She had not really been considering a change at that point, but as the days had passed, it had become an option with more and more merit. She walked toward her desk and took a seat. The paper and pen lay on the desktop, staring at her imposingly. Was she really considering this? She folded her hands in her lap and waited for a sign.

The thunder clapped overhead. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then reached for the pen. She wrote, letting everything she’d been thinking and everything she’d experienced in the past few weeks flood out of her, like it could be washed away with the pouring rain. Then she screwed up every page and burned them in the fire, before starting over. This time, she wrote concisely. She stared at the few lines on the page, wondering if it were really all as simple as this short and perfunctory letter made such a change out to be. The tears she couldn’t stop crying told her it was not.

* * *

Five weeks later,Sophie was delivered of a letter confirming that she would be joining Lord Wycliffe’s family at Compton Hall. She would assume the role of companion to his fourteen-year-old sister, Lady Gertrude. The compensation his father, the Duke of Compton, had offered was considerable and Sophie was unsure that she deserved such an increase to her income. But she knew that the Duke of Compton believed in paying what was deserved, so she took the figure stated to be a confirmation that the duke thought she was up to the task ahead.

Lord Wycliffe had unexpectedly neat handwriting. Sophie had expected it to be as flamboyant as the man himself, but it was considered, measured, and had barely a smudge upon the page. She tried to image Lord Wycliffe concentrating as he labored over the tiny letters and found herself smiling.

Yet it was still hard to believe that she would soon be leaving Watton House. That was all too real. The agreement was made. And there was only one thing left to do – to tell Charlotte. Sophie swallowed the lump in her throat. How could she possibly explain, without it seeming like a betrayal of their friendship - especially coming out of the blue, as such a declaration must surely seem.

Feeling unsettled, yet resolute, Sophie made her way down to the drawing-room, where Charlotte would be waiting for her. They had shared tea together at four o’clock in the drawing-room ever since Sophie had first come to Alnerton, and they had continued to meet each day after the move from Caldor House to Watton Hall. It would be just one of the little rituals that Sophie would miss terribly.

“There you are,” Charlotte said, smiling. “I was about to have Mrs. Boyle call you.”

Sophie was glad she had made it down before such a thing had occurred. The Watts’ housekeeper was kind but could be very stern about timekeeping. “I am sorry,” Sophie said with regret as she took her seat across from Charlotte. The tea was already prepared, steam rising from a fine China pot, an assortment of cakes and sandwiches on the tray beside it.

“You are barely a few minutes past time,” Charlotte replied with a smile. “I was only teasing you. Is everything quite alright with you, dear Sophie? You’ve been terribly distracted in recent weeks.”

“I am quite well,” Sophie replied with a heavy heart, saddened to know that she hadn’t kept her secrets perhaps as well as she thought she had. Charlotte had always been perceptive.

“I am glad,” Charlotte said, though her eyes didn’t leave Sophie’s face for a moment, seeking something she wasn’t sure of – yet knew she would find if she just looked closely enough. “You do know you can tell me anything, don’t you? You are family, and I always want what is best for you.”

Charlotte poured the tea. Sophie reached for Charlotte’s hand, stopping her in mid-pour. “Don’t.”

“So, there is something?” Charlotte said, her voice concerned, as she set the teapot back in its place.

“Yes,” Sophie replied, swallowing her guilt like a bitter tonic.

“Are you unwell?” Charlotte scrutinized her appearance. “You look a little pale. Perhaps you should lay down. We can have tea tomorrow.”

“No,” Sophie answered. “I am very well. It is… it is just that I ‘ave something to tell you, that I am afraid, will not make you ‘appy.”

Charlotte’s brow furrowed, her concern seeming to grow by the minute. “What could you have to say that would make me unhappy? You can tell me anything. I would never judge you - you do know that don’t you? Whatever it is, nothing will change between us, I am certain of it.”

Sophie could hardly look at Charlotte. The inside of her mouth was as dry as the desert, and her mind seemed to falter on the words she had practiced so often, since receiving the confirmation letter from Lord Wycliffe. She pursed her lips and wrung her hands in her lap, wondering how she could possibly tell Charlotte the truth.

“Sophie? You’re worrying me,” Charlotte said softly, reaching a hand over the table and taking Sophie’s. She squeezed it tightly. “Whatever is the matter?”

Sophie lifted her emerald eyes to her friend’s face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Sorry? For what?”

“For telling you this way, that I shall be leaving here in little under a fortnight to take up a new position.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Leave here? Why? Have I done something to upset you? Has somebody else?”

“No. It is not that. You must never think anyone here could ever be unkind,” Sophie pleaded. She couldn’t bear it if Charlotte thought that she was in the wrong for being so happy.

“Then what? What would you make you leave here?”

Sophie shook her head. “I love you, Charlotte, as I would a sister. I could ‘ave asked for no one better to act as a companion to.” She paused and took a deep breath. “But you no longer need a companion. You ‘ave Capitaine James, and his family now. You ‘ave Mrs. White to care for George and Emily with you, and Mrs. Boyle to run the household. You ‘ave Mr. and Mrs. Watts who are delighted to ‘ave you and the children.”

“But I still need you,” Charlotte said, tears beginning to pool in her lovely eyes.

“Dearest Charlotte, I shall always be your friend, and will gladly write often – and would be delighted to visit when my new employers might permit that. You will not lose me, not entirely.”

“But you will not be here. You know, I have feared that this day might come. I have so much less time now, and you are right, that my needs are different now. You must get bored sometimes. Are you terribly unhappy?”

“Sometimes,” Sophie admitted. “I thought I could be ‘appy to watch you have your love story come true. I wanted nothing more than for you and Capitaine James to find one another once more. Yet, I find, that your joy has left me to wonder about my own happiness.”

Charlotte’s voice was tainted with sadness. “Why did you not say? I would never want you to be unhappy, Sophie. I love you. I want your happiness as much as my own.”

“I love you too, Charlotte. That is why I could never say it out loud. I did not want to spoil your ‘appiness. I ‘ave been blessed to watch it, as much as it ‘urt me to see it.”

“I don’t fully understand,” Charlotte said, “but I want to.”

“I want what you ‘ave, Charlotte,” Sophie admitted. It felt strange to say it out loud. It had been something she had only ever thought about in the privacy of her own mind. It was strangely freeing to hear her own voice confessing to her deepest and most treasured secret. “I want a husband, children, my own home,” Sophie answered. “But I can never ‘ave it and that is sometimes painful for me, when I see you so very content.”

Charlotte’s tears were now flowing freely over her cheeks. “Oh, Sophie. But such a thing is so easy for us to change. There are plenty of eligible men who would love a wife as pretty and accomplished as you.”

“If I were perhaps ten years younger, or even five,” Sophie said drily, rolling her eyes. They both knew that hope for a good marriage was gone for her now. “No, I must accept that is not to be my path and so, I ‘ave found a new position,” Sophie said briskly. She did not wish to cry, though she was struggling not to.

“But must you truly leave so soon?” Charlotte asked. “A fortnight is barely enough time for us to make our goodbyes after all this time.”

Sophie shook her head. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. Perhaps that it is so sudden is for the best.”

Her friend sprung to her feet. “But where are you going?”

“To the Duke of Compton, at Compton Hall.”

“You’re going to Compton?” Charlotte asked incredulously.

“Lord Wycliffe offered me a position at Christmas,” Sophie explained.

“It was a joke,” Charlotte said, her eyes flashing with what looked like anger.

“No, it was not,” Sophie corrected. “He meant every word, and I shall be Gertrude’s companion. The contract is signed.”

“Sophie, please,” Charlotte cried. “What will I do without you?”

Sophie gave her dearest friend a sad smile. “You will continue to be ‘appy, my dear Charlotte. I will write to you if you will let me. I would like to maintain our friendship.”

Her stomach tightened. What if the end of her service meant the end of their friendship as well?

“What will I tell James and children? The entire household will miss you so dreadfully.”

“Should I tell them myself?” Sophie questioned.

Charlotte dabbed her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. “No, I think it better come from me. I am sure they will have questions. You would have to endure this again. Could you bear that?”

Sophie swallowed hard. “I do not think I could. This ‘as been so much ‘arder than anything I have ever had to do – and much worse than I imagined it might be.”

“How long have you known you were leaving?”

“I only received the final confirmation of my employment in a letter from Lord Wycliffe, just today,” Sophie divulged. Charlotte was quiet. “Are you angry?” Sophie asked.

“Not at all,” Charlotte replied. “I’m saddened, but not angry. You have never made me angry in the nine years we have been together. I very much doubt you could make me angry now.”

Sophie stood and the two friends embraced. “So, now we must make every moment you are here count,” Charlotte said trying to sound brave. “Not a single chance wasted.”

“Oui! Whatever you wish,” Sophie said forcing herself to sound as cheerful as she possibly could. “I am at your disposal.”

“You are my very best friend, Sophie Lefebvre. I will miss you so dearly that I cannot find words.”

“As I will miss you, Charlotte.”

“I wish you every happiness, Sophie.”

Sophie knew that she would miss Charlotte and Watton House terribly, but new adventures awaited her at Compton Hall. Gertrude was a young girl on the cusp of womanhood. Sophie looked forward to helping her become a fine young woman. Charlotte had already been well situated in life and experience by the time Sophie had entered her life. Sophie had offered little more than companionship and understanding, during her years of loss, but Gertrude was a chance for Sophie to make a difference. She would focus on that in the weeks to come. It would make the pending separation easier.

Charlotte grinned at her and took her seat at the table once more. “Shall we have tea now?”

Sophie smiled and sat back down opposite her. “I’ll pour.”