A Most Unlikely Betrothal by Alice Kirks
Chapter 5
Sophia knew that if she looked in the mirror right now, she would see a mess. She certainly felt like one. Some of her hair was stuck to her face, and her entire face felt swollen. Despite knowing this, she couldn't stop crying. Rose consoled her as best she could, but Sophia was beyond comfort; she was beyond anyone's help.
"Shhh," Rose murmured, rocking her side to side.
Sophia had come to Rose to run away from her parents' judging stares and Elizabeth's burning hatred, needing a friendly face to tell her that everything would be all right. The funny thing was Sophia already knew that nothing could be right again. Her life was ruined.
“It's not that bad, is it?” Rose asked, still stroking Sophia's head.
Not that bad? Sophia pulled away from her friend, giving her a hard stare. "What do you mean by that? My parents think that I purposefully brought shame to the family for want of attention. My own sister doesn't believe this was an accident and believes I planned the entire thing to trap Richard into marriage. Now, tell me again that it's not bad."
Rose nodded and pulled Sophia back against her. Sophia didn't go willingly, but once her friend's arms were around her again, she felt a little better.
“I understand that this is difficult for you, Soph, but what else can you say or do to convince your parents and Elizabeth that you're innocent of the crimes they're accusing you of? You didn't do anything wrong.”
No, she hadn't, but sometimes Sophia wondered why she hadn't just run away before Richard approached her or said something to make him realise that she wasn't Elizabeth. Of course, the answer was that she had simply been too stunned and frightened to do much. Sophia was usually better at dealing with situations, but watching a dark figure looming towards her in the night had been her breaking point.
I managed to get my legs moving eventually, but it was too late, wasn't it? The deed had already been done, and now I'm paying for it. What must Richard think? Does he believe I purposefully tricked him into thinking I was Elizabeth? I hope not.
That would just be too embarrassing. No, this was his fault, not hers. It had been wrong of him to lure Elizabeth away to steal a kiss in the first place, and if Sophia didn't love her sister so much, she would have told her parents as much. How would they like knowing that their precious daughter was supposed to have been the woman the Earl wanted to kiss?
“You're thinking so hard that steam is coming out of your ears,” Rose commented. “You're thinking about the Earl, aren't you? You don't plan to hurt him, do you?”
“Hurt him in what way?”
Sophia felt her shrug. “I don't know. Your mind works in mysterious ways and sometimes scares me. You don't think as most people do, Sophia. You're altogether a different breed of person.”
“Thank you so much. That really makes me feel better.”
Rose sighed. "I didn't mean to make you seem like a freak, and you know that. I just worry about you sometimes. You're stuck between wanting to do the right thing and throwing caution to the wind to do whatever you please. I'm worried you'll go with the latter."
Sophia would be lying if she said she hadn't been thinking about something that might make the entire situation worse, but would give her the freedom she desired. Elizabeth sometimes joked and said she thought like a man, and to some extent, her sister wasn't wrong. If being independent and doing whatever she pleased was thinking like a man, then so be it.
“I'm still not certain about what I wish to do, but my fate seems certain. My parents want me to marry Richard.”
“But will you?” Rose asked.
Her friend knew her too well. “I don't know. I do not want to marry him if I can help it, but no one has given me that option. The only thing available to me is accepting a new title and living with it.”
“I'm too scared to even ask what that title is, but I'm too curious not to ask.”
Sophia smiled at that. “Your curiosity is worse than mine, you know. That's how you usually end up with your derrière on the floor.”
Rose laughed, slightly shaking Sophia. “Don't I know it! I would think it my biggest flaw, but Mama might argue that. She would say it's my lack of physical beauty. C'est la vie, non?”
Sophia shifted away from her friend and tucked her knees under her. "You're not ugly, Rose."
Her friend looked away, but not before Sophia saw a look of despair enter the woman's eyes. Sophia held her friend's chin and brought her face back to look at her. Rose stubbornly kept her eyes down, but Sophia knew her enough to guess what was happening behind them.
“So what if you do not fit the current beauty ideal? It doesn't make you any less beautiful in my eyes.”
Rose looked up, her gaze sad. "The cloth cuts both ways. I think you're beautiful, but you do not believe me. We see things in ourselves that we love in the other but do not love in ourselves. If I was a suspicious person, I would think it was some sort of a curse."
Rose was right, but Sophia wanted to chase away the sadness in her friend's eyes. “Should we find a four-leaf clover to bring us luck? Or perhaps try to look for a witch to break the spell? Maybe she could make us more acceptable to society.”
“That's not funny at all,” Rose complained, but at least she was smiling. “Mama would keel over and give up her ghost if I ever consulted a witch. Sometimes I want to do it just because I can.”
“Feeling defiant?” Sophia asked with a smile.
“You rub off on me. I was a docile creature before you came along and turned that on its head. I think my parents grow increasingly exasperated with me every time I defy them in something.”
“Wanting apricot jam over strawberry is not defiance; it’s a preference.”
Rose barked out laughter. “I forgot that I told you about that. Mama kept insisting that strawberry jam is a better fit for the bread Cook had baked, and I persistently slathered apricot jam all over a piece of toast.”
It had been one of the most ridiculous arguments Sophia had ever heard, but she had to admit that she had a few of her own. Most of hers were about her fashion choices. Sophia had a good head for fashion, but her mother and sister were adamant that she should never outshine Elizabeth's wardrobe.
Apparently, Sophia had had her chance at her first London Season, and now Elizabeth needed her opportunity to shine. Sophia didn't bother reminding her mother that the budget she had given to make a few gowns and dresses for her Season had been so low that a shoddy seamstress had been hired. The result had been ill-fitting clothes and colours that clashed with her complexion. Sophia had never stood a chance.
“Where is your mother today? I haven't seen her yet.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “A merchant came boasting about a new cosmetic cream that promises youthful skin and increased beauty, and Mama just had to buy it. She has gone to Oxford Street to purchase another tub of it. I expect she'll be back in time for tea—Mama does not like to miss her tea time.”
Last year, the Frenchwoman had hired a pâtissier to create all the pastries she loved so much. Her waistline had grown with their consumption, but she appeared happy. Sophia wondered when her weight gain would eventually become a problem.
"Then I suppose I should get myself cleaned up before she sees me like this. She might try to slather me with her special cream."
Rose laughed. “I wouldn't put it past her. Come, we'll go to my room.”
They went hand in hand to Rose's room, where the woman sat on the bed and talked while Sophia did her best to bring down the swelling in her face. Why did she have to look so hideous whenever she cried? Elizabeth had the perfect crying face and never seemed to swell or get sticky nose fluid all over her face and dress. She wasn't messy like Sophia.
Her mood dipped as she thought about her sister. ; poor Elizabeth didn't know how to handle that her sister marrying the man she probably loved. It was too much for her. No wonder Elizabeth hated the sight of her and had even wished her dead. Sophia knew her sister hadn't meant it, but it had hurt all the same. Whatever imbecile came up with the idiom 'sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me' did not know what on earth he had been talking about. Words cut to the heart and left unseen scars that sometimes never healed.
“No, Sophia,” Rose protested. “I just had you laughing. What black hole did you go into this time? I know that you have several.”
"No more than you," Sophia bit back, hating that she was such an open book. Regret filled her when Rose's face closed off. "I'm sorry, Rose. I really am. Do not mind me, please. I'm stressed about everything, and I'm taking it out on you."
“I do not mind,” Rose insisted, but Sophia could hear the hurt in the woman's voice.
Why did she sometimes forget that Rose was sensitive? Feeling terrible, Sophia settled next to her friend and put her head on the woman's shoulder.
“I'm a horrible friend. You can say it, I don't mind.”
Rose laid her head on Sophia, taking her hand. “You're the best friend I've ever had. I would have to be a weakling to not take your bad days along with your good.”
“If you were a man, I would have married you,” Sophia claimed. “We're perfect for each other.”
“I can't argue with that. Why can't we find men who appreciate us as we are?”
Sophia shrugged. “I have no answer for that. They all seem to like pretty and dainty women who either enthral them or submit to them. We do not fit into those categories.”
“That was an answer,” Rose said with a smile in her voice.
"I suppose it was. Do you think you could fix my hair, so I do not look like a hag when your mother comes home?"
Rose stood up. “That I can do. Mama allows no one else to do her hair but me. I suppose I am useful for something.”
Sophia grabbed her hand, pulling the woman to her for a quick embrace. “If it's any consolation to you, you're the only person I trust with all my heart.”
“The feeling is mutual.” Rose voice sounded a little less like a wounded child’s. “Now come, you have too much hair to get through on such little time. Mama's tea is fast approaching.”
Sophia sat on a padded stool in front of the mirror and gave her hair over to her friend. Rose knew what she was doing because Sophia's hair looked better than when she had arrived at the Pilkington residence.
“Simply magic,” said Sophia, admiring her hair. “Thank you.”
“There's no need to thank me. Being my best friend is payment enough. Let's meet Mama in her parlour—I know she’ll want to see you and ask about your engagement.”
Sophia shut her eyes, scrunching up her face. “I suppose I’ll have to endure personal questions?”
“Mama is nothing but frank. She’s French.”
Rose said that as though it explained everything. Oddly, it did.
* * *
A promenade through the park was Rose's idea, but Sophia was quickly regretting it. Everywhere she looked people seemed to be staring at her. At first, she had assumed they were looking at the gorgeous Frenchwoman, but their gazes were not admiring at all. They seemed judgemental and curious.
“Où est ta mère, Sophie?” Mrs Pilkington asked. “I have not seen her in so long.”
The Frenchwoman never called her Sophia, but Sophie. "She is mostly at home, Madame Pilkington. This is Elizabeth's first Season, and there is always something to do. Sometimes, she accompanies my sister to parties."
“Bon. I like that she has taken such an interest in this Season. She was not so careful with yours, non?”
Everyone but Sophia's mother was aware that the woman had not put as much effort into making her a success. Perhaps her mother had thought her independent enough to deal with it on her own, or maybe the woman had not thought it worth her while to focus on a daughter who would never be the belle of the ball. Sophia wasn't mad at either option.
“Oui, Madame. But I believe she did the best she could.”
The woman's expression was dubious. “C'est ne pas vrai, Sophie. My daughter is plain, but I did everything I could to, how do you say it in English, eh—élever?”
“Elevate,” Rose answered, her tones clipped.
“Merci, ma cherie,” her mother replied with a smile. “Oui, I did everything I could to elevate my daughter. It did not help, but at least I know I am a good mother.”
Sophia took her friend's hand, squeezing it gently. She knew the young woman had to be hurting inside, but she was careful not to show it, or her mother might play the victim. Mrs Pilkington acted like the perfect mother, but Sophia knew her well enough to know that she had flaws and leaned towards the narcissistic. Perhaps it was time to change the conversation.
“Your chef makes the best pastries, Madame. I think my mother would be jealous if she knew.”
A smug smile spread across the woman's face. “This is true. Phillipe is the best I could find, and he is from France. There is no other nation better than my own.”
“Which was why you married Papa,” Rose said under her breath.
“What is that, ma petite?” the Frenchwoman asked, her brow wrinkling.
“Nothing, Mama,” said Rose. “I do not think you should frown so much. What if you get deep furrows on your brow?”
The woman gasped, touching her forehead before getting out a little mirror and opening it to admire herself. Sophia had never met a woman who was vainer. Yes, she was beautiful, but that could only get one so far. When she was satisfied, she closed the mirror with a click and joined arms with them on either side of her.
“It's a beautiful day, non? I love summer, but not as much as spring.”
Sophia wanted to say that she loved winter because it was cold like her soul, but she didn't think it would go down well with the woman.
“Mama, Sophia and I would like to take a walk by ourselves,” said Rose. “We have much to talk about.”
“But you talked a lot at the house, ma fille. What could you possibly have to talk about now?”
"Many things," Rose insisted, her voice firm. "Do you not have something to do at home? Both Sophia and I have had our first Season, so it will not be improper to walk by ourselves."
“Mais, ma petite, what will your Papa say? He does not like his petite fille to be alone.”
“She is not alone, Madame,” Sophia piped in. “I am here with her.”
The Frenchwoman didn't look happy, but she nodded. “D'accord. Go and have your tête-à-tête, but I will follow behind. My daughter must maintain her reputation.”
Sophia wondered if that was a stab at her but knew the woman wasn't vindictive. She merely said what was on her mind without much care to the listener.
“I am sorry about my mother,” Rose apologised as soon as they had put some distance between them. “Her mouth runs away from her at times.”
“I know, and I'm not offended. How can I be when you have to deal with her day in and day out? At least she pays you attention.”
“I wish she wouldn't,” Rose confessed. “It gets to be too much, especially when I know that I fail her every day. Sometimes, I think she wakes up believing her prayers have been answered and she will find a beautiful daughter downstairs waiting for her, but it's always just plain old me.”
"Now, who is the sad one?" Sophia said, bumping the woman's shoulder with her own. "This walk is meant to cheer us up."
“I hate walking.”
“Me, too.”
They looked at each other, then burst out laughing, startling a few birds perched near them. They took flight, flapping their little wings until they disappeared.
“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Rose asked.
“That we wish we were like those birds?”
“Yes.”
“Then yes, I was thinking about that. All you have to do is get up and fly away if you don't like an environment or situation.”
Rose shook her head, smiling. “We must be the most sullen pair to ever walk this land.”
“But we do it so well. We should get paid for it.”
That set them off laughing again. It honestly did feel good to be out in the fresh air with a friend who shared one's sense of humour. Everything would have been perfect if Sophia had not noticed the people that were still staring at her.
“Ignore them,” Rose said into her ear. “They are not worth your time.”
“That's a bit hard when they're everywhere,” Sophia whispered. “Why did I let you talk me into it?”
“Because you needed the fresh air,” her friend insisted.
“I need a lot of things, but that doesn't mean I have to get them. Certainly not if it comes with this lot. Look at them staring!”
“Let's not think about them, Soph. I've given this marriage some careful consideration, and I think you should marry the Earl.”
That stopped Sophia in her tracks. “Oh, Rose. Not you, too. I thought I explained it all to you.”
“You did, but I cannot help wondering what life would be like if you took the marriage route and not the spinster one.”
“A disaster,” Sophia replied with feeling. “Marrying a man who does not want you is far worse than being a spinster.”
Rose looked at her for a moment, then shook her head. “We'll have to agree to disagree, Soph. At least give this marriage a fighting chance to survive.”
That wasn't even an option. Richard would never see her as someone worthy of loving, and Sophia would probably always resent him for trapping her. It may not have been done deliberately, but the fact remained that Richard had compromised her. It had cost her the respect of her parents and the love of a sister.
Sophia noticed a group of women approaching them. Their eyes darted to her and then to each other as they spoke in hushed tones. She couldn't hear what they were saying at first, but then she heard something that took the fight out of her.
“Isn't that the woman who was so desperate that she trapped Lord Brittingham?” a woman asked.
“I think so,” another answered. “I actually feel sorry for the Earl. Who would want to be married to that?”
A small sob escaped Sophia's lips at the same time that Rose's grip tightened on hers. How much more was she expected to take? Everyone blamed her as though she was the one who had kissed Richard when it had been the other way around. It wasn't fair.
“I can't be here anymore, Rose. I want to go home.”
Her friend nodded. “I understand. Let's go back to Mama and tell her we've had enough.”
Sophia nodded wordlessly, allowing her friend to turn them back and return to Madame Pilkington. Since their townhouse was nearby, Sophia took the Pilkington carriage home, where she was met with more disappointed looks and a sister who could hardly look at her without spitting venom. Was this what her life had been reduced to?
“Come, Sophia,” her mother called. “We must discuss your trousseau. We cannot have you going to the Earl's family in rags.”
Would it matter? No one would take notice of her anyway. “Yes, Mama.”
Getting married was supposed to be a joyous occasion in a woman's life, but Sophia felt nothing but shame and despair. This was Richard's fault.