Authors: Kimberly Truesdale
And so Sophy had retreated to the garden, where she had looked forward to the silent companionship of her plants and flowers. And then to find the watering can empty! Her temper broke as she sawed at the water pump.
“
Sophia Elizabeth Wentworth,” she said sternly to herself, having splashed water all over her dress and almost drowned her flowers. She took a deep breath to still her heart, beating quickly in annoyance. “What is happening to you?
Why
are you so peevish, restless, and petulant today? What has irritated you so?” Sophy sat on the small garden bench, hidden from the view of passersby in the street, and worked at pondering out the answers to these questions. She did not need long to arrive at the answers.
Something had changed. Something fundamental to her life here in Milverton. It had started a week ago when a new and intriguing man had quite literally stepped into her path. Something had shifted from that first moment when he had grinned at her. Sophy smiled again at the remembrance. And then Freddy had galloped away on his borrowed horse and Sophy had fallen into one of the easiest and most pleasant conversations she had ever held. And the most interesting. They had talked.
She
had talked like she could not recall talking to anyone before because Captain Croft had seemed to be so much in sympathy with her. Without any effort, he seemed to know her, to enter into her feelings. They'd even laughed at the same absurd things.
And she had imagined she entered into his feelings, shared his humor. Though they had had little opportunity for conversation, Sophy had always imagined – she now realized – that his tales were directed at her. He had talked for her. And he had tried – with much success – to make her laugh. Sophy had reveled in the small attentions all week. She was used to being an observer, never the observed, and so the captain's attentions had made her aware of something new. She liked being thought of. She liked the feeling that he was thinking of her when he was talking. She liked to think that he was talking to her alone, even when they were in company.
“
What a silly, romantic idea, Sophia Wentworth.” The man had shown her a little bit of attention and her imagination had run mad, had taken it in a direction he had probably never intended. She had only imagined the growing intimacy between them.
But now, it was all gone. Even if she had imagined it, it had been a nice change from everyday life and now it was gone. The captain had squashed it all on Saturday when he had pulled away from her kiss. Now there was no one around to pay special attention to her. Would there ever be again?
She'd had an idea, a dream, really – though it had crept up on her before she had suspected anything – of a different life than the one she had here in Milverton, the one she would have for the rest of her life here. That was the life she found herself back in now. And it chafed her annoyingly.
This would be her life with Mr. Hollingson.
For a moment, she tried to remove her emotions – or at least calm them – and rationally consider what this life with Joshua would be. She needed to think clearly about it. Perhaps the exercise would help her to focus on what was before her, not what was behind.
Life with Mr. Hollingson would mean many things. Sophy began to form a list in her mind. With him, she would stay here in Milverton, close to her family. She could care for Papa and the boys. She would be a good daughter and older sister. Though sometimes she alone felt the full responsibility of the family, she did love them dearly. Staying close to her family, Sophy reasoned, was no small attraction for her.
The boys would, however, go away soon. Mr. Hollingson would help them with that. The curate had already helped by tutoring them. He was especially positioned to help Edward into the life of a young clergyman. And Mr. Hollingson certainly had connections to people in many professions who might help Freddy, whatever he eventually chose to do. That would be a decided advantage.
And then there was the fact that, if she married him, she would be secure. She would probably stay in Milverton all her life. Reverend Croft had made it clear to everyone that he considered Mr. Hollingson his natural successor to the living in Milverton. He would probably retire in a few years. Then she and Mr. Hollingson would be in an even better position to help the people of the community she loved so much. As the rector's wife, she would have more resources at her command, resources she could use to help the families that had done so much to help her family over the years. The people of Milverton and Preston-Bowyer were her family by more than blood.
But what of the personal side of staying here in a life with Mr. Hollingson? She had only yet thought about the worldly things it would allow. He was a fine man. He loved his adopted flock and cared for them with all he had both spiritually and physically. He was also an educated man and Sophy had seen him put his learning to good use already. He was a patient teacher and believed that everyone could expand his mind with learning. They had discussed at length his ambitions for the parish, how he wanted to build a bigger school and extend the basic education of his pupils, how he wanted to begin a fund so that the town could send their brightest, no matter the child's financial need, to school if he wanted. Mr. Hollingson was a loving, enthusiastic, intelligent man and Sophy enjoyed being around him. They had much in common. And he would be a good role model for the boys. She knew already that he loved them like brothers.
All together, marriage to Mr. Hollingson would be nice. Sophy found him physically attractive. And he clearly found her to be so – well enough that he had said he loved her. That should count for much. Life with him would be solid, steady, predictable. No upheavals to shake them. It would be a quiet life in the same way her life thus far had been quiet. They could raise a family. She would like to have sons and daughters of her own. Mr. Hollingson, Sophy was sure, would be a kind and caring father. Life with him would be pleasant.
Pleasant.
The name of Captain Croft's ship. Sophy tortured herself with thinking of what a life with the captain would be.
Life with Connie would mean leaving Milverton, her home. If she married Connie, she would insist on traveling with him. So she would travel to the opposite ends of the world, far away from the home she had loved for so many years. It would be a harder life, certainly, than her life in the town. She would spend months, perhaps years away from dry land and even longer away from home. To her now that seemed like an eternity. Could she stay away for fourteen years as the captain had? Her family mattered so much to her. Would she be able to leave, knowing she might never see them again?
But Captain Croft, like Mr. Hollingson, could help the boys. He also had connections that might help her brothers secure training and employment. Freddy had shown much interest in the Navy. And she was sure the captain could find him a place, if he wanted.
Then there was the alarming insecurity of naval life. It was war time now, so as many sailors as could be employed were. The Navy always needed men. Sophy did not want to think that the constant shortage of men on ships was the result of war and disease that ran through the ships with devastating ease. Life itself could be uncertain. But even if one survived the war with body and health together, the end of war saw sailors put ashore mercilessly on half pay. She would live a life completely at the mercy of the British Admiralty.
On the other hand, with Captain Croft she would travel to the far corners of the earth. She would not always be in the smooth water of Milverton. Being on a ship meant travel and constant danger. But Sophy found that a part of her longed for that adventure. A part of her longed to see the horizon and sail toward it, to experience new parts of the world, new cultures and peoples, to see a new side – many new sides – of life. What exotic foods might she try? Or dances might she do? Or songs might she sing? The very thought of all the experiences she might have made her excited.
And, of course, she would have all of these experiences together with Captain Croft. The man, she realized, had come to have a place in the deepest part of her heart. Yes, he was handsome and intelligent. Mr. Hollingson was those things, too. And like Mr. Hollingson, the captain cared deeply. She had seen it in the way he acted toward his mother and father and then toward the crew of his ship. He knew them all, remembered them, cared for them in the same way Mr. Hollingson cared for his flock.
But the difference in the two men came down to the fact that Captain Croft had
shown
her he cared for her – even if it was no more than he cared for everyone, even if he only thought of her as a sister. He had asked about her thoughts and opinions and dreams. He had listened to her with respect and attention, engaged her in conversation well beyond the usual round of small town gossip.
Life had been so easy with him. And there had been so much laughter. There was something about Captain Croft that made her feel light and easy. And safe. Sophy saw the humor, the silliness in things when he was around. Captain Croft would have laughed at her right now, in fact, for being out of temper with the watering can. Even imagining his reaction made her grin. She loved that.
She loved him.
At the thought, so simple in its truth, a wave of emotions swept over Sophy. Even as she was certain she loved Captain Croft, she knew it was hopeless. How could she love someone she had only known for one short week? How could he have lodged himself so deeply in her heart? It could not be real, could not be reciprocated. Surely he had felt nothing of the kind for her. She loved him but there was nothing she could do about it.
And yet, a part of her could not let hope die. Being with Mr. Hollingson was nice. But with Captain Croft... Sophy shivered at the memory. They had barely even touched and her whole body had reacted. Sophy blushed again thinking of his touches, his breath upon her neck as they stood at the wheel of the ship. But she must stop thinking of that. He had
not
kissed her. He had pulled away. He had rejected her.
Tears came to Sophy's eyes. She wanted to stamp her foot like a small child and scream at the unfairness. He had sailed away and would not return here. She must resign herself to hearing about him only by fondly recalled memories of the past week or the infrequent letters he addressed to his parents. Perversely, Sophy thought about his future. It did not include her. He would find a beautiful wife in some far-flung port.
She
would sail the world with him.
She
would have his children.
She
would laugh with him.
Oh, it was all so unfair. Why had he come here? Why had he disturbed the pattern of her life? A week ago, she had been excited to accept Mr. Hollingson's proposal, to think of a life with him in the town they both loved so dearly. But now her mind was in such upheaval that she doubted she would ever be happy again. Why had Captain Croft shown her what could have been? Why had he shown her something new and then left her to deal with the disappointment when it failed? Sophy felt abandoned and emotionally drained. She wanted to run to her bed and never get out. What would be the point? Life no longer held anything for her.
For long minutes, Sophy's mind stormed with these thoughts. She raged against the unfairness of life. Finally, a calmer side of herself broke through the rushing tumult of these feelings. Her inner voice spoke. Nothing? It asked. Do you truly believe that you have nothing in life? That you have nothing to live for? You have family and friends, a way to help people. You have people who love you and depend on you. Surely that is not nothing. A week ago those things mattered to you. And now you would throw them all into a junk pile and call them nothing? You are acting like a spoiled heroine of some third-rate romance, talking of taking to your bed to die. Really, Sophia Elizabeth Wentworth, that is too much!
Through her tears she let out a thin laugh. She
was
being quite ridiculous, wasn't she? It was not as if the world had truly ended. Women since the beginning of time had suffered heartbreaks much worse than hers and they had carried on living. Besides, Sophy reminded herself, Captain Croft had never spoken to her of love. There had been no promises between them. She could not hold him to a promise he had never made. Yes, it hurt to realize that he did not love her the same way she loved him. But she must give it time, be patient with herself. Soon she would settle again into the comforting routine of Milverton life. Perhaps that familiar routine itself would be a balm.
In the midst of formulating this new plan, Sophy heard a knock on the front door. It must be time for the mail delivery, speaking of Milverton routines. She went to answer the knock, comforted by the thought that this routine could hold no surprises.
She stared uncomprehendingly at the neatly folded letter in her hand. The other letters that had come in the post sat ignored on the hall table. But this one... Sophy stared at it. There was no mistake. It was addressed to her. And in an unfamiliar hand. She could not understand it.
The daily post usually contained a bundle of letters addressed to Papa. For years, he had kept up steady correspondence with friends from all over England. One friend even sent letters from the East Indies, where he was studying the native diseases. Sophy was in the habit of sorting Papa's mail and she had come to recognize the various handwriting of his many friends. With no more thought than usual – less, in fact, seeing as she had been wrestling with the storm in her own mind – Sophy had sorted today's post. And there it was. A letter addressed to her: Miss Sophia Wentworth. She continued to stare at it, as if it would begin to speak and reveal its secrets to her.