Lord Harry's Daughter (19 page)

Chapter
33

The winds were favorable, and within a little over a week they arrived at Portsmouth. She spent the night at the George Hotel, and the next day, following the general's instructions, allowed Colonel Potter to hire a post chaise for her.

Lost in her thoughts of those she had left behind, Sophia paid little attention to the rolling fields of Hampshire or the high, wide sweep of the downs as they crossed into Surrey, nor did she notice much about the neat little villages and towns they passed through—Buriton, Petersfield, Farnham.

Finally, late in the evening, they arrived in the metropolis seething with such activity that it reminded Sophia of nothing so much as the army on the march—horses, carts, oxen, all crowded into the streets. At long last they pulled up in front of a slim, elegant house in Brook Street where the door was immediately thrown open by a grizzled butler who nodded affably at Sophia and led her upstairs to the drawing room.

Pausing anxiously on the threshold, she drew a deep breath and plunged into what was to be her new life. A fire was burning cheerily in the room, whose delicate shade of blue with graceful white pilasters clearly declared its decorations to be inspired by Adam. Her first impression was that she had stepped into a Greek temple or a museum, for in addition to the neoclassical design, there were marble busts and statues placed in every available alcove and on every available surface.

Sophia's attention was so absorbed by the exquisite statuary that for a moment she was unaware of the tall, thin woman who rose to greet her.

“My dear, you must be worn to the bone. Do come sit by the fire and let me ring for refreshment."

With some trepidation, Sophia examined the woman in front of her. Yes, there were her father's bright blue eyes and long nose, but the eyes were piercing and intelligent rather than laughing. The finely shaped mouth and chiseled chin exhibited a great deal more resolution than her father's ever had. All in all, it was a face that showed character where, at the best of times, her father's had shown charm, but mostly, amiable weakness.

“Thank heavens you appear to look more like your mother, who must have been a beauty. The Featherstonaugh women tend toward horsiness.” It was clear that Sophia was being observed as critically as she had been observing. “But that is neither here nor there. I am delighted to have you here, though I realize that you probably cannot say the same thing, for London must be decidedly flat after the Continent."

“I am grateful for your hospitality.” Sophia sank wearily into the proffered chair as her hostess turned to give instructions to the servant who had appeared in response to her summons.

“I expect that that is mostly nonsense, though kindly meant, for who would willingly leave friends and a familiar atmosphere, no matter how uncomfortable it might be, for a totally unknown accommodation among the family that disinherited your father and behaved so badly to your mother. Now tell me, child, what are your interests and what you would like to do in London?"

“I hardly know, I..."

“You look like a young woman of sense and though every young woman naturally wishes to meet some society, I expect that there are things you would like to do besides that."

“Well...” Sophia paused. She had never really given much thought to such things, for she had always known that she wanted a life with more meaning in it than an endless round of social calls, routs, balls, and all the other diversions of a fashionable existence. If she had dreamed of anything at all, it was to be recognized as an artist, though she could hardly confide something as personal as that to the woman sitting opposite her in spite of being told she looked as though she had sense. And Sophia could not help wondering what it was about her that made Lady Lydia think she had sense.

“It is obvious that you are not one of those flighty young misses who wishes to flit from one crush to another. You do not simper, your countenance shows you to be a thoughtful person, and your attire, while it is appropriate and of excellent quality, is not the latest kick of fashion.” Her aunt volunteered these observations as if reading her niece's thoughts. “But you still have not answered me."

“I never expected to come to London, but if I had, I would have dreamed of seeing the exhibition at the Royal Academy."

Lady Lydia nodding approvingly. “So you shall, and also the exhibition at the British Institution for the Development of Fine Arts which this year is showing the works of Hogarth, Wilson, Gainsborough, and Zoffany. General Curtis wrote that you are something of an artist which is why I have put you in a bedchamber at the front of the house where the windows afford the most light and there is ample room to set up an easel. I spend my mornings studying and I daresay that you would like time to work alone."

Sophia's eyes stung with grateful tears. Perhaps life in London would not be so miserable after all. Incredible as it might be. Lord Harry's sister appeared to be a woman after his daughter's own heart. “I ... I do not know what to say except that I am very grateful ... thank you."

“You need say nothing at all. It is my own selfish wish for quiet moments that prompts this suggestion. Now, I expect that you need rest more than anything. I shall show you to your chamber and will send the maid with hot water and some supper. I shall not expect to see you before tomorrow noon at the earliest."

Lady Lydia led her up the stairs to a large bedchamber hung with blue damask. A space had been cleared by one window, and a comfortable chair had been placed next to a fire whose cheering blaze welcomed her. Observing these thoughtful arrangements, Sophia once again blinked back tears of relief and exhaustion.

“There, now. I leave you to your own devices for I am sure you are quite fatigued.” Lady Lydia paused in the doorway. “You know, I was quite worried about his change, but I expect we shall rub along tolerably well together.” With an impish smile that made her appear nearly as young as Sophia, she closed the door gently behind her, leaving her niece alone with her thoughts.

Chapter
34

Lady Lydia was as good as her word, leaving Sophia alone to paint, read, write letters, or amuse herself however she wished every morning. They would then meet over a light luncheon and discuss plans for the rest of the day.

While the exhibition at the Royal Academy was still more than a month away, Lady Lydia did arrange for her niece to view some of the best private collections belonging to acquaintances, and they went to Spring Gardens to see the annual watercolor exhibition.

Lady Lydia allowed her niece time to settle in and feel comfortable in her new life before thrusting her into any social events, though naturally she had introduced Sophia to acquaintances encountered at the various exhibitions they attended. To Sophia's infinite relief these acquaintances were, for the most part, as erudite and serious as Lady Lydia herself. Lady Lydia, who confessed to her niece that she did have the reputation of being a bluestocking and something of a dragon as well, did not have many callers, so they were left to pursue their interests and their sedate life in relative peace and quiet.

One caller, however, did venture to break this pleasant routine. Aunt and niece were each contentedly poring over a page of the
Times,
which they had divided between them, when the butler came to announce a visitor. He barely had the opportunity to pronounce the words
Lady Arabella Featherstonaugh
before the young lady herself came bouncing into the room.

“Dearest Aunt Lydia, I know that you like your privacy, but it is past noon and we have just arrived in town and I am dying to see my new cousin. What is she like?"

“See for yourself,” her aunt responded calmly. “Though it would be nice if you could make her feel a little less like some animal in a zoo."

The young lady was fashionably dressed in a bonnet and pelisse that were in the height of elegance, but her sophisticated appearance was belied by the sparkling eyes, mischievous expression, and enthusiasm of a young miss just out of the schoolroom. “Oh.” She raised a hand encased in a lemon-colored kid glove to her lips in dismay. “I
do
beg your pardon, but when Papa told me that Lord Harry's daughter was staying with Aunt Lydia in London, I just had to come see you."

“Ah, that is very, er, kind of you.” Sophia was still reeling from the young lady's eruption into the peaceful sitting room.

“You must forgive me.” Lady Arabella plopped into the nearest chair and stripped off her gloves. “But our family is so dreadfully straitlaced and dull. Papa especially, that I just
had
to introduce myself to the only interesting relative I have. Aunt Lydia says your father was so naughty that Grandfather cast him off without a penny. And then he married your mama. I think it is all too thrillingly romantic."

Sophia could not help smiling at the notion that being disinherited warranted the instant respect of a strictly brought-up young lady. “The
thrillingly romantic
part seemed to have disappeared before I came along, but I admit that life was certainly never dull where Papa was concerned."

“Oh do tell me all about it and about life with the army. How exciting it must be to follow the drum. You must know ever so many interesting me ... er, people."

Sophia suspected that it was handsome young men in scarlet coats that were the chief attraction for Lady Arabella, but she was more than willing to beguile her with tales of army life. It had been so long since she had talked of such things that it was almost a relief to speak of them, though she did feel a lump rise in her throat more than once.

Lady Arabella left a good deal later, but not until she had extracted a promise from Sophia and her aunt to go driving with her and her mother in the park the very next day.

As the door closed behind her lively niece. Lady Lydia smiled ruefully. “I am afraid that your quiet existence has come to an end, for Arabella will not stop until she has bullied you into attending all the most fashionable squeezes in town. But she is a good girl. You are fortunate you are still in mourning for you can excuse yourself from anything you do not wish to be part of."

But that evening as Sophia lay staring up at the hangings on her bed, she was thinking not of balls and routs, but soldiers marching and fighting, and of one soldier in particular.

Sophia fought against the tears that choked her. She told herself that homesickness was natural, that the pain of losing her mother and missing old friends would be softened in time, but deep inside her, a voice so faint that she was almost unaware of it, suggested that the feelings overwhelming her were not just those of unfamiliarity and loss, but that some emotion even more compelling was affecting her in ways she could barely identify.

The reflections of the night were soon banished by the concerns of the day as Sophia prepared to meet the Duchess of Broughton, whose footman had brought around a note inviting them to join her in her afternoon drive.

Sophia had suffered a good deal of misgiving over meeting the wife of
my starched-up prig of a brother,
as Lord Harry had always referred to him, but Arabella's ingenuousness and Aunt Lydia's kindness had gone a long way toward dispelling her worries. Indeed, the duchess appeared to be an older, plumper version of her daughter and though less forthright, welcomed Sophia graciously, even going so far as to point out all the notables as they proceeded in a stately parade around the park.

Sophia was relieved to discover that the duchess seemed to bear not the slightest ill will toward Lord Harry or Lord Harry's daughter, and beyond expressing her condolences at the loss of both Sophia's father and her mother, she evinced no further interest in either of them.

There were others, however, who did speak of Lord Harry Featherstonaugh. Lady Louisa Cathcart, who had greeted the duchess and her daughter fondly as her barouche paused next to theirs, was happy to meet Sophia. “Lord Harry's daughter, is it? I am delighted to make your acquaintance. Such a charming scapegrace your father was.” Lady Louisa scrutinized Sophia for a moment. “Though you do not have the look of him, you know."

“No, ma'am. I believe I take after my mother though I am not quite so beautiful as she was."

“Ah yes, your mother. We were quite wild to meet the woman who captured Lord Harry's heart and hand, but we were destined to be disappointed. However, I am glad to meet you at last. Welcome to London, Miss Featherstonaugh, though I imagine London must seem sadly flat after your adventurous life in the Peninsula."

Sophia had no answer, for she
did
find London to be sadly flat, but for other reasons than those Lady Louisa assumed. And as it would have been highly impolite to acknowledge such a thing, she merely smiled and replied, “Thank you."

Not that Sophia regretted the unusual life she had led. As she sat in various salons and ballrooms watching couples whirl around the floor, glad to have the excuse of her mourning to keep her quietly on the sidelines with the dowagers, she often thought how interesting and enlivening her life had been compared to the lives of those who were laughing and flirting, trading the same
on-dits
this year as they had traded the last.

How trivial it all seemed compared to marching and fighting across inhospitable terrain. And how insipid the men appeared after those she had been accustomed to. The best of them were intelligent and respectful enough, but beyond that, they seemed hopelessly dull.

What was happening to those back in France, risking their lives? Sophia continued to wonder this and to scrounge for every scrap of information she could discover about the British forces in Europe until one day in early April her aunt looked up from the
Times
to remark. “It has ended."

“What has ended?"

"What has ended?
How can you ask, child, when you have been fretting over them since you have arrived. The war. Paris has surrendered to the Allies and Napoleon has abdicated."

“Thank God!” Until she uttered the words, Sophia did not realize how worried she had been. He was safe then.

At least, she was mostly certain he was safe. She had constantly scanned the lists of dead and wounded for one name in particular and his had never appeared. Now at last she dared to hope that he had come through unscathed. Offering a silent prayer of thanks, Sophia went off to a concert at the Hanover Square Rooms with her aunt and Lady Arabella with a lighter heart than she had had in months.