A Most Unlikely Betrothal by Alice Kirks

Chapter 11

 

 

Sophia's armoire was a triple wide wardrobe of bleached oak and intricate flower and vine carvings along the drawers and borders. She had inherited the French piece from her great-grandmother, who had once been rumoured to have had a great love affair with a Frenchman before marrying her husband.

 

 

 

It wasn't filled to the brim with dresses and other attire because Sophia simply didn't have that much to put in it. Elizabeth would have taken the armoire if she had found it beautiful, but fortunately she didn't, and Sophia was able to keep it.

 

 

 

She sat inside it now, hiding away from the world while others rushed about below her. Her legs were cramping slightly from her cross-legged position, but Sophia would take that over being part of the chaos happening downstairs.

 

 

 

“I'd gladly drink castor oil if I could get out of attending tonight,” she said aloud, clapping a hand over her mouth when she remembered that she was supposed to be in hiding.

 

 

 

The day of the dinner party had arrived, and Sophia wasn't prepared for it. She had seen the guest list and had nearly suffered an anxiety attack at the sheer amount of people her mother had invited. It was enough to make anyone run for the hills, but hiding in the armoire would have to do for now.

 

 

 

“If only I had a lamp,” she whispered. “I could do with a book.”

 

 

 

Perhaps a book about escape artists or people with magical powers to manipulate time and the elements. Sophia could do with the ability to disappear at will or change the minds of people. Better yet, she could go back in time and change the course of her future. She imagined warning her past self not to go into the garden, but remain in the house, thus avoiding the scandal and everything else that had come with it.

 

 

 

A miserable chuckle escaped her lips as Sophia realised that wishing for something would do her absolutely no good. The only thing that she could be thankful for was her sister's change of heart.

 

 

 

That had been surprising and most welcome; Sophia had missed speaking with Elizabeth and sharing stories with her. Elizabeth had simply stopped being nasty and dismissive towards Sophia and now acted as though nothing had ever happened. Sophia hadn't questioned it—she was just relieved that her sisterwas no longer angry at her for something that wasn't her fault.

 

 

 

Trying to stretch her cramped leg, Sophia stilled when she heard her bedroom door creak open and soft footsteps enter her room. Had someone come looking for her? She was aware that she couldn't stay hidden in the armoire forever, but Sophia had at least another three hours before she needed to get ready. It did not even take her an hour to dress.

 

 

 

“Sophia?” Elizabeth called out. “Are you here?”

 

 

 

Should she come out? Sophia wasn't sure. She still wanted some time to herself, although she didn't feel any better than when she had first entered the wardrobe.

 

 

 

“Where is she?” she heard Elizabeth say. “I've looked everywhere for her.”

 

 

 

Sophia could hear the growing irritation in her sister's voice. Not wanting to annoy Elizabeth when they had just started speaking to each other again, Sophia pushed open the door and climbed out, startling the younger woman.

 

 

 

“Oh my!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “You were in there the whole time?”

 

 

 

“Not quite the whole time,” Sophia admitted. “But long enough. Is there something you needed?”

 

 

 

“I've come to help you get ready for the dinner party, of course! I cannot trust you to do it yourself because you have no regard for putting in the effort to look presentable for such things. What dress have you chosen? I know that Mama recently had several made.”

 

 

 

Her sister wanted to help her dress for a dinner party that would celebrate her betrothal to the man she had believed herself in love with? Sophia didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but surely she would be forgiven her mild scepticism?

 

 

 

“Mama insists that I wear the white dress with the blue and gold lace,” Sophia told her. “I have no opinion on the matter.”

 

 

 

“Well, you should!” Elizabeth declared. “This is your evening, Saffi. You cannot be upstaged by your guests, you know. I agree with Mama about the dress, but I'll pick your accessories to go with it because I cannot trust you to do so. I'll fix your hair as well.”

 

 

 

“You don't have to do any of that, Lizzy,” Sophia protested. “Why don't you spend this time getting ready? I know how you love to soak in a bath of milk and honey before any event.”

 

 

 

"Do not concern yourself with me, my sweet sister. This is your night. Besides, you will marry into a wealthy and powerful family who expect you to fit into their world. Let me help you do that."

 

 

 

Sophia still wasn't sure about having her sister help her, but she was certainly happy to spend time with her.

 

 

 

“Very well—if it will not cut into your time.”

 

 

 

"Not at all," Elizabeth chirped. "I've already sent for hot water for a lovely milk bath. If it was good enough for Cleopatra, then it is good enough for us."

 

 

 

Sophia didn't fancy sitting in a tub of milk and flowers. “But that's not necessary, Lizzy. A regular bath will be acceptable.”

 

 

 

"Absolutely not! I have already sent for everything, so you will simply have to deal with it. We can talk while you bathe."

 

 

 

Sure enough, maids came in hauling buckets of hot water and throwing it into a tub before adding milk, honey, rose oil and petals. Elizabeth had come across the beauty ritual in a book from Aunt Caroline's library. The Viscountess had a vast library of books from all over the world, some in their original languages and others translated into English. The book had appealed to Elizabeth because it listed the beauty rituals of all the women in history considered unusually beautiful.

 

 

 

“Get in,” the younger woman instructed. “We wouldn't want the water to grow cold.”

 

 

 

Sophia went behind a screen decorated with dragons, orientaltemples and bamboo. Her father had purchased it from a merchant who had returned from a long trip to the Eastand had some surplus items he wished to sell. Sophia had a feeling that the items may have been stolen, and the merchant wanted to get rid of them, but she had never voiced the opinion. She received her answer when the same man was persecuted for piracy and plundering the goods of other merchants.

 

 

 

Did having the screen make her just as guilty? Perhaps it was best not to think about that right now.

 

 

 

Sophia quickly removed her clothing and stepped  from behind it, out wrapped in a sheet. She eyed the steaming bath. “Are you certain 'tis not too hot? I do not wish to get a headache.”

 

 

 

She didn't do well in overly hot weather or hot water; the only thing she liked hot was her tea.

 

 

 

"It's perfect," Elizabeth assured. "Step in, and I'll massage your temples."

 

 

 

Sophia widened her eyes. She was getting a massage as well? Elizabeth was undoubtedly putting in much effort just to help her get ready. Why? Was this her way of apologising for how she had behaved towards Sophia?

 

 

 

I suppose I shouldn't refuse it if this is her way of holding out an olive leaf to me.

 

 

 

“That sounds lovely,” she said at last.

 

 

 

Setting the sheet aside, Sophia stepped into the water and lowered herself into the perfumed bath. The water did feel too hot for comfort, but she convinced herself that it would cool in a moment or two.

 

 

 

Elizabeth knelt behind her and ordered her to lean back, arranging the few tendrils of hair that had escaped from their confinement atop Sophia's head to lie outside the bath.

 

 

 

“Close your eyes now,” the woman said. “I'm using Mama's special lavender oil to massage your temples. It should calm you down.”

 

 

 

Sophia was willing to try anything that would calm her down, so she did as ordered and closed her eyes, flinching slightly when her sister's cold hands touched her skin.

 

 

 

“The evening promises to be a grand one,” Elizabeth said, her voice gentle. “Mama and Papa are sparing no expense.”

 

 

 

“I wish they wouldn't. A simple dinner party like the one thrown by the Duke and Duchess would have sufficed.”

 

 

 

“Oh, but you're marrying an earl, Saffi,” Elizabeth protested. “We cannot afford to embarrass ourselves by throwing a party that is not worth their time. Surely, you understand that?”

 

 

 

“I suppose so,” Sophia replied, although she really didn't.

 

 

 

She didn't believe in fussing around to please people simply because they had more money or status, but she was aware that most people believed the same thing Elizabeth did.

 

 

 

“There will be lots of people tonight,” said Elizabeth. “I'm quite excited.”

 

 

 

“I'm happy you are, because I am not. I'll be forced to socialise with people who waste no opportunity to judge me.”

 

 

 

“You're marrying Richard now, so I doubt anyone will say anything mean to you.”

 

 

 

Elizabeth was naïve if she believed that. Most of the guests thought that Sophia had trapped Richard into marrying her, and others who knew them well, claimed that Sophia was so jealous of Elizabeth that she had to steal Richard away. Of course, neither of those rumours were true, but that didn't seem to matter.

 

 

 

At least I have Elizabeth back to her old self. She must not believe the rumours, or she wouldn't be here right now helping me get ready.

 

 

 

Sophia agreed to a ten-minute soak and no more despite Elizabeth's protests. She wasn't one to sit in water until her toes and fingers became wrinkled and her brain muddled by the fumes of the rose oil.

 

 

 

Stepping out of the bath, Elizabeth helped wrap her in a bath sheet, but Sophia drew the line at having her sister help apply body cream. That was just too... invasive. Was that the word? Sophia did allow Elizabeth to help her with her undergarments before sitting in front of the mirror and letting allowing her do her hair. Elizabeth also help her with Sophia’s dress and accessories.

 

 

 

“There!” her sistercried, stepping back to look at Sophia. “You're all done, Saffi. I suggest you sit in this room until it's time to go, so you don't ruin all my hard work. I'm going to get myself ready now.”

 

 

 

Elizabeth all but skipped out of the room, leaving Sophia to stare at herself in the mirror. The youngerwoman had not put up all of Sophia's hair at her insistence, but tucked it in a pretty plait that sat low. It wasn't the style of the day, but Sophia felt it suited her. She was also glowing from her bath and looked vibrant, and perhaps a little pretty, or as pretty as a socially unappealing woman could be.

 

 

 

She had never put this much effort into her appearance before, but she was pleased with the result. Perhaps there was something to all the beauty rituals Elizabeth swore by.

 

 

 

“I do smell like I bathed in a copious amount of flowers,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I'm not certain if I like the strong smell.”

 

 

 

Before long, Sophia was called down to start receiving their guests. She felt rather faint walking down the stairs, but the risk of embarrassing herself kept her steady and upright until even she questioned her lightheaded state.

 

 

 

“You look lovely, dear,” her mother exclaimed, looking at her with approval. “I'm glad you put in the effort today.”

 

 

 

Her father said something similar, which Sophia found strange because she was not used to compliments from her parents. It felt unnatural.

 

 

 

Guests began pouring into the house, but Elizabeth did not come downimmediately. Was she still getting ready? It would be easier to have her sister by her side while she greeted guests. Everyone was looking at her peculiarlyand whispering to each other as they watched her. Sophia tried not to fret about it, but she was losing the battle.

 

 

 

The room grew hushed quite suddenly as the guests turned to the drawing-room's doorway. Elizabeth had arrived and stolen everyone's attention, and no wonder. The woman wore a white dress very similar to Sophia's dress, but it looked much better on her. From the way her sister held herself, Sophia could tell that Elizabeth was happy with everyone's reaction. Sophia understood that her sister was naturally more beautiful, but it almost seemed as though she was competing with her by wearing that particular dress.

 

 

 

Elizabeth wouldn't do that to me. It must be a coincidence that her dress looks like mine.

 

 

 

The good thing about Elizabeth drawing all the attention away was that nobody was staring at Sophia now. Her sister's vivacity, beauty, and charm had captured her audience and held them spellbound.

 

 

 

Sophia gladly withdrew into the corner of the room where the light was dimmest. This might have been her evening, but she preferred to be inconspicuous.

 

 

 

Richard hadn't arrived yet, but that didn't alarm her. Sophia had noticed that the Earl was never on time for anything and always made a grand entrance. Much like Elizabeth had. She contemplated if that had been her sister's aim in coming down so late, but she pushed that thought away.

 

 

 

Elizabeth couldn't help being beautiful, and she had helped Sophia dress this evening, which could have cut into her own time getting ready for the party. There was always a reasonable explanation for everything.

 

 

 

Sophia stood on her toes some moments later, watching the doorway for Richard. Would he notice that she had put care into her appearance tonight? She felt a little anxiousabout seeing him, almost eager, which surprised her. Why would Richard's presence mean anything to her?

 

 

 

Despite this, she somehow knew that Richard had arrived before she saw him. It was as though the atmosphere of the room had changed, and it had nothing to do with the guests noticing him.

 

 

 

Sophia felt herself smile as she craned her neck and watched Richard's entrance, her heart quickly sinking when Elizabeth approached him and gained all his attention. His admiring gaze was free for all to see and know that this was the woman he wanted.

 

 

 

Pulling further into the shadows, Sophia tried to make herself as small as possible. Hopefully, no one would see her, and they could just forget that Sophia Emley existed.

 

 

 

She wrapped her arms around her, biting her lower lip when it trembled. Where was Rose when she needed her? The woman was supposed to be here already! Sophia needed someone to stand by her and give her some support to last the evening or she wouldn't survive. It was only a matter of time before attention was returned to her and people remembered why they were here.

 

 

 

Glancing at Richard and her sister, Sophia had to admit that they were a lovely couple. Elizabeth looked perfect by his side and would have made a wonderful countess. What did the Duke and Duchess think about the situation? Would they have preferred to have their son marry Elizabeth?

 

 

 

“Of course,” said Sophia, answering her own question. “Everyone loves Elizabeth. Even I love her. Why wouldn't anyone else?”

 

 

 

Elizabeth was a sweet young woman who knew how to charm anyone, even the nastiest of people. That was simply her gift. Sophia wasn't jealous in the slightest but rather wished she had some of her sister's charm so she could handle social situations better.

 

 

 

Richard had moved further into the room when Sophia's eyes searched for him again, but he was no longer staring at Elizabeth with open adoration. He had a friend beside him that Sophia recognised, but she couldn't recall his name. The man was also handsome and probably had his fair share of admirers, but Richard certainly stole most of the attention. He was like Elizabeth in that regard.

 

 

 

Was the friend jealous? Sophia looked more closely at him, noting his bored expression.

 

 

 

“He doesn't seem jealous,” she said to herself. “Merely unbothered by the woman standing around them.”

 

 

 

How odd. There were enough beautiful women to capture his interest. Did he, like Richard, prefer Elizabeth? That would certainly be awkward, but it would explain why he was only talking to the lovebirds. Sophia decided she didn't know who was more pathetic: the friend or herself?

 

 

 

Feeling a tad parched, she made her way to the refreshment table and selected the champagne her mother had decided to use instead of storing it for Elizabeth's betrothal. Mrs Emley had Sophia and Elizabeth’s father purchase the champagne because she had been confident that Elizabeth would receive an offer of marriage before the end of the Season. No one had anticipated Sophia getting married first—it had been unheard of up until a few weeks ago.

 

 

 

Two women came up to the table, not noticing that Sophia was there. That was fine with her. She thought to move away before they realised that she was standing beside them, but the women's conversation caught Sophia's attention and kept her rooted to the floor.

 

 

 

“Elizabeth looks beautiful this evening,” the mousy-haired woman commented. “Not that she does not look lovely every day, but she seems... I don't know if I can put it into words. Ethereal, maybe.”

 

 

 

“I believe she is making a point,” the raven-haired woman stated. “Just think about it, Sarah. This is supposed to be her sister's betrothal party, a party that would have been hers if Sophia hadn't concocted a plan to steal the Earl away. I've always said that the woman is devious.”

 

 

 

“But Elizabeth is Sophia's sister,” Sarah reasoned. “She has always seemed protective of Elizabeth. There has to be more to this situation than meets the eye.”

 

 

 

Sophia felt grateful towards the woman for not believing everything she heard without questioning it first. If more people were like her, there wouldn't be so much scandal.

 

 

 

“You're too naïve,” the other woman insisted. “Sophia was just biding her time. Don't you know how intelligent she is? They would have burned her for being a witch once upon a time. She knows things she shouldn't as a woman.”

 

 

 

Sophia pulled her face, briefly glancing at the raven-haired woman. What on earth was she talking about? What did she know that would have had her burned as a witch?

 

 

 

“That's a little harsh, Henrietta,” said Sarah. “You know that I don't believe in that sort of thing. Reverend Monroe would scold you for such words.”

 

 

 

Henrietta snorted. “That old man is just as backwards as most of the people in this country. Don't you know anything? I heard from a reliable source that Sophia consulted with a gypsy woman and was given a love potion to bewitch the Earl. How else could he stand the thought of marrying her?”

 

 

 

Sophia wondered if she should laugh or cry. When did this particular rumour start making its rounds? It was simply ridiculous!

 

 

 

“A gypsy?” breathed Sarah, her voice filled with awe and a touch of terror. “Do you really think she would do such a thing?”

 

 

 

"You need only look at her to know that Richard could never willingly kiss her," Henrietta insisted. "I wonder if she thought a kiss could make her more beautiful like in that book I found my sister reading the other day? She told me about this frog prince who needed the kiss of a princess to break the spell and turn him back into a handsome prince. Perhaps Sophia thought that would work for her. I wouldn't put anything past her."

 

 

 

The women eventually walked off, still discussing how Sophia could be a witch in disguise. Was that even normal? What was this craze sweeping the ton? It was one thing to enjoy reading the supernatural but quite another to accuse an innocent person of partaking in nefarious activities.

 

 

 

Shaking her head, Sophia looked down at her glass and found it empty. When had she finished it? Frowning, she set aside the empty glass and took another glass of champagne, returning to her hiding place. The bubbly drink had somewhat calmed her down and taken the edge of disappointment, hurt, and shame off her.

 

 

 

“No wonder people enjoy consuming this,” she murmured, staring at the rising bubbles.

 

 

 

She took a sip, wrinkling her nose at the bubbles popping on her upper lip. It felt like a wet feather being brushed against her nose and lips and wasn't unpleasant at all.

 

 

 

Deciding that she couldn't stand all night, Sophia looked for somewhere to sit but found no chair. She placed her glass on the nearest table, and took hold of the nearest chair, dragging it to her little section.

 

 

 

The noise drew several gazes her way, but she strangely didn't mind. Sophia smiled at them instead, baring her teeth. Her audience looked away quickly as though she had done something wrong. Did they not like her smile? Perhaps baring her teeth had reminded them of a menacing dog.

 

 

 

She giggled at the thought, coming to an abrupt halt when she realised that she wasn't acting like her usual self. What on earth was wrong with her? She had been fine until…the champagne! It was addling her brain and making her act and think strangely. Sophia decided to stop drinking the beverage straight away lest she did something to further embarrass herself.

 

 

 

Although, that might help me get out of this marriage. Richard's parents could find me unsuitable and refuse a match between us.

 

 

 

But that would also distress her family, and Sophia didn't want to do that. That brought about a heavy sigh that she could feel all the way to her soul.

 

 

 

Sophia ignored her chair and remained standing, not wanting the alcohol to congregate in her belly from sitting down. Instead, she needed it to go all the way to her feet and out through her fingers.

 

 

 

It took a few minutes for Sophia to start thinking like herself again and she vowed to never drink champagne again.

 

 

 

She returned to watching the guests, her eyes falling on her and Richard's parents talking to each other. Had they not noticed that she was not an active part of the dinner party?

 

 

 

Richard was currently talking to a woman who was not his fiancée after all, yet no one thought it strange that he hadn't bothered to ask where she was. It said a lot about what people thought about her.

 

 

 

Sophia knew that everyone felt sorry for Richard and believed he was better suited to marry Elizabeth, but she felt hurt by everyone's attitude. The fact remained that Sophia was going to marry Richard in just a few months, and not Elizabeth. Didn't anyone care?

 

 

 

A couple broke away from the crowd and moved towards her, catching Sophia's attention. She thought that they were coming straight to her, but they never locked eyes with her. They were too engrossed in their conversation to notice that she was right there.

 

 

 

“Do you think Sophia ran off?” the woman asked.

 

 

 

“I don't see her anymore, but I wouldn't blame her if she did,” the man answered. “Having people compare you to your sister cannot be easy.”

 

 

 

“Do you feel sorry for her?” the woman asked, her tone mildly accusing.

 

 

 

“No, but it's human nature to feel sorry for pitiful creatures. Watching Elizabeth walk in wearing a dress similar to her sister's must have been a knife in the back. I know how you women are about fashion and hate to see anyone wearing the same thing at an event.”

 

 

 

“I would curl up into a ball and wish for death,” the woman claimed.

 

 

 

Sophia would have done the exact same thing if not for her common sense. Curling up into a ball in front of everyone was just asking for trouble.

 

 

 

The couple moved away, never knowing that Sophia had merely been a few steps away. She had wanted invisibility, but she was getting more than she had bargained for. Everyone had forgotten that she was in the room, but they certainly had not stopped talking about her. Sophia was their villain while Elizabeth and Richard were looked upon as an ill-fated pair who were cruelly torn apart by an evil witch.

 

 

 

Would Sophia always live under Elizabeth's shadow?