My Dear Sophy (24 page)

Sophy turned the paper over in her hand. It was thick and of good quality. It felt heavy, as if the neatly folded package contained many sheets. Apart from the address, no other writing appeared, and so Sophy could not guess who it might be from. She examined the writing. The letters were large and legible. They flowed smoothly across the page without a hint of hesitation. The writer had known exactly where he wanted to send this letter. The only clue she could divine as to the sender was from the raised wax on the back. Sophy flipped over the paper to see the letter “C” pressed deeply into the brown wax. It was starting to crumble away.

Her heart sped up to a fast run and her breath came quickly. The letter “C” drew her thoughts only in one direction. But could it be? The only name she knew with a “C” – the only one who would send her a letter would be –

A knock on the door.

Sophy's mind was racing and she barely noted the noise until it came again. Had the postman forgotten something? How long had she been standing there? Sophy moved to open the door and was astonished at what she saw.

“
Mr. Hollingson!”

“
Miss Wentworth,” the man smiled broadly and inclined his head.

Sophy tried to gather her thoughts, but they were rushing away in all directions. “Were we expecting you?” She tried to sound as pleasant as she could.

“
I do not believe so. Do I arrive at a bad time?”

“
Oh no, no...” Sophy remembered her manners. “Please, come in!” She shoved the letter into her pocket and forced herself to concentrate on Mr. Hollingson. She moved toward the front room, but Mr. Hollingson stopped her.

“
Might we sit in the garden this afternoon?”

“
Of course! I have been sitting there myself.” Sophy smiled at the curate and lead him out into the small garden. The shock of his arrival having settled, she turned her mind fully to her guest. “Shall I make some tea?”

Mr. Hollingson was quick to respond. “Please, no. I am fine as I am.” Almost as an afterthought he added, “But if you would like some... please do not let me stop you.”

“
Oh, I am also fine as I am, thank you.” Silence descended upon them as they stood in the garden. Finally, Mr. Hollingson gestured to a bench and they both sat. Sophy could think of nothing to say, and so she waited for Mr. Hollingson to speak. She noticed that he seemed nervous today, fidgeting with his clothing and avoiding her gaze. Finally, he turned his attention to her and spoke quickly.

“
Miss Wentworth, I have been waiting all week to speak with you privately.”

“
Oh.”

“
Now we are alone, I... I find my words slipping away.” Sophy remained silent, unable to think of any words she might speak to smooth his path. If she was not mistaken, Mr. Hollingson was about to offer for her. And she had been pondering this very thing... What should she say to him?

“
Miss Wentworth, I believe that what I am about to say will not be unexpected. The other evening... when we were alone... I wanted to say...” Mr. Hollingson looked like he was in pain, but still Sophy did not know what to do. Should she say something reassuring? What did one do when one was receiving a proposal of marriage? After a short pause, he started again, this time rushing to get his thoughts out all at once.

“
Miss Wentworth, I knew when we embraced that I wanted you to be my wife.” Now that he had said the word, it seemed to go easier for him. “Miss Wentworth, I am still a young man and I need a young wife. You know me and my work. You have lived in this village all your life and I would like to live here for the rest of mine. You must know that Reverend Croft expects me to take over his position when he is ready to retire. I can give you a home near your family and the promise of a steady future doing good work for the people of this town.” Mr. Hollingson seemed to realize that he was speaking too long. He ended with the one question Sophy had been waiting to hear.

“
Miss Wentworth, will you marry me?”

Even though she had known the question was coming, there was nothing to compare to hearing it spoken directly to her. Her heart soared. Mr. Hollingson loved her and wanted her to be his wife. It was what she had been waiting for.

And yet...

Sophy's hands were folded in her lap, directly over the letter she had received in the post, the letter she suspected was from Captain Croft. And only a few moments ago in this very spot in the garden she had been comparing the two men, weighing the balance between them and examining her own heart. She had not known what to do then.

But Mr. Hollingson had proposed. He was here now. With her in her own garden. Sophy looked up into his face. He was eagerly awaiting her answer.

“
Mr. Hollingson,” she began, searching for words to fill the expectant silence. “I am flattered by your proposal...” What should she say now? Should she accept? Should she refuse? Sophy didn't know what she thought. She needed time to think. Time when Mr. Hollingson wasn't sitting there looking at her and waiting for her answer.

“
Mr. Hollingson, I wonder... might I ask you for some time to consider your proposal?” He looked crestfallen and Sophy felt miserable. Clearly, he had expected an answer and she had disappointed him.

“
Of course, Miss Wentworth. Please... please... take all the time you desire.” He stood up. “I will leave you now.” He turned to walk away, but stopped before he had gone three steps and turned back toward her. “May I call upon you in a few days?”

Sophy smiled kindly at him. He was such a good man. So caring and respectful of her feelings. “Of course you may, Mr. Hollingson. I will have an answer for you then.” Sophy rose and followed him to the front door. At the door, he turned again and gave her a lopsided smile.

“
Goodbye, Miss Wentworth.”

“
Goodbye, Mr. Hollingson.”

Sophy stood in the door and watched him walk away. She absently put her hand in pocket and thrilled again when her hand brushed the letter that lay there.

The letter. Sophy's heart beat quickly in anticipation. What did it say? She wanted to rip it open and devour the contents. She should crack the seal, reveal the mystery of the letter, let her heart slow to a normal rate. She
should
. But here were Edward and Freddy coming towards the house. She would get no peace if they found her here. She needed to escape. If this was a letter from... him. If it was, she wanted to be alone, to devour whatever it was in secret, away from all the other obligations on her time and attention.

She needed to be away from here. Quickly grabbing her shawl and bonnet, Sophy left the house, waving to her brothers and telling them she was going out for a walk and would see them later. They seemed not to notice her haste and agitation. She was free.

Without thinking, Sophy made her way to the Old Mill, the first place she and Captain Croft had been truly alone to talk. Slowly, so very slowly she sat on the bank with her legs crossed under her. The letter was in her lap, cradled in the hammock of her skirt. Still, she hesitated. She must gain some perspective. Sophy looked around her and took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on slowing her fast-beating heart. Her thoughts moved both too quickly and too slowly for her. She was not sure that she could bear the contents of the letter, no matter what they were, good or bad. She waited, still breathing deeply, for courage to come to her. And then there it was. In a sudden burst of anxiety and elation, each emotion inextricable from the other, she broke the seal and turned to the signature. She must know.

“
Connie.”

Sophy sighed the word aloud as she saw the large, sloping letters of his name. She had only read one word and she was ready to sob with relief. It was certain. Now she would know what was in his mind, one way or the other. Sophy steeled herself and began to read.

My dear Sophy –

I have hesitated to write to you, waited until the last possible moment. Even now we are preparing to sail for Portsmouth. My sailors ferry back and forth, waving goodbye to their families. And I can think only of you...

Always you, my dear Sophy. How is it that one short week has shown me the happiest bliss and the saddest sorrow? Bliss to have known you, talked with you, walked with you by my side, made you smile – your smile that feels like the sunshine of home! And sorrow to think that in my stupidity I might have left you forever without telling you how I feel.

I write now because the last thought has become unbearable. For hours after you drove away on Saturday, I watched the shore, willing you to come back. O'Brian, dear man, came upon me and told me I was scaring the men with how fiercely I was scowling. He helped me see into my own heart.

And what I saw there was you.

My heart is yours, my dear Sophy. Wholly and completely. When I turned to examine myself, I found that you had – without my realizing it – carved yourself a niche there. But that heart aches to think I hope for too much, that I am too late to speak to you, that you have committed your heart to another man. Have you?

Hope will make me send this letter. Hope that you truly love me too is the one thing that serves as some fleeting remedy for my folly in letting you walk off my ship without telling you –

And the thought of returning to you, asking you to be mine, being with you always. These thoughts relieve some of the awful despair. I have no words to tell you – my dear Sophy (shall I ever tire of saying that?) – how I feel at this moment. Anxious, thrilled, hopeful. I can only trust that you know how I feel. And I believe you do.

I know not what harm I caused by turning away from you that day on the bank of the pond, and again at the wheel of my ship.
You must know
how much I wanted to lean down and touch your lips to mine. But, please forgive me, I stopped because I had convinced myself that you were promised to another man! I thought you deserved a better life than I can ever give you. And so I foolishly let you go.

And I am a fool. Even when you yourself had told me that you were a thinking and feeling being and
you
were the only one who could make your decisions... even then I did not give you the choice. Glorious Sophy! You told me, and still I tried to keep myself from you.

But no more. I have said what is in my heart. It is your decision now, Sophy. The simple truth is that
I love you
.

My time grows short. I must send this letter now if I am to send it at all. And even now I grow anxious of the step I am about to take. But the hole in my heart where you should be says I
must
, no matter my own anxieties. I await the very moment my ship docks in Portsmouth and I can fly again to you and ask you to be mine. I have begged leave of the Admiralty and will return to Milverton as soon as I am able. I will make you a formal offer then, my love.

For now, I can only beg that you will tend my heart while I am away from you.

Though I go to Portsmouth in body, my heart and soul stay in Somerset, safe in your care.

Until I see you again, know that –

I Love You,

Connie.

Sophy could hardly believe what she had just read. Her eyes scanned the closing over and over again. I love you. I love you. I love you. Every heartbeat seemed to echo the words. With a sob of joy, Sophy pressed the letter to her breast, willing the words to stain their ink on her heart.

Captain Croft – Connie – loved her.

He did. And he was coming back to tell her. He was coming back to Milverton for her. Yes. Yes. Yes. Only an hour ago Sophy had resigned herself to a world without him. And now the whole world lay before her – the whole world with Connie in it! It hardly seemed possible. He loved her.

But Mr. Hollingson did too.

Two offers of marriage in the space of an hour? Was ever a woman so blessed? Or so cursed? What should she do? How was she ever to decide which man to choose? Which man deserved her heart? Sophy was excited and anxious all at once. The future she'd never really thought about suddenly lay before her in the forms of two very different men.
             

Sophy stretched out on her back, the letter still clutched to her chest and the tickle of grass against her neck. She closed her eyes and soaked in the warmth of the sun. Which man did she love?

Connie must get to Milverton and tell Miss Wentworth – his dear Sophy – that he loved her. It was two weeks since he had sent his letter and his heart to her, and his naval duties had never seemed more onerous.

The Admiralty had taken its time in granting him leave and so Connie had had nothing to do in Portsmouth but think about Sophy. He had walked the dockyards where the
Pleasant
was being repaired at least a hundred times, trying to find some other occupation for his thoughts. But without his ship and without any specific orders, he was thrown on his own resources. And he found them quite abysmal.

O'Brian had helped somewhat, playing cards and drinking with Connie in the evenings. But the man had disappeared two days ago with only a note to say he hoped Connie was granted his leave and he would see him soon in Yarmouth. The
Pleasant
was to be docked there once her repairs were finished.