Page 32 of A Counterfeit Engagement
“It usually is,” Mrs Anderson said wisely, and drew her daughter next to her on the sofa, where she might put her arm about her shoulders. “Now, dear, what has happened? I am sure that you were happy only a few days ago.”
“I was,” Sophie agreed. “I had not thought I could be so happy. It happened only last night. When we returned from the theatre, I told Jonathan how much I loved him. And…” Sophie broke off abruptly, swallowing hard.
It seemed somehow important to speak clearly, without the confusion of tears.
Mrs Anderson only nodded, waiting patiently and saying nothing.
At last, Sophie thought she could go on.
“I bared my heart to him, and he thought it was an error on my part. That love was not real. He does not love me, and he does not think he ever could.” Finally, Sophie could no longer hold back the tears.
Her mother did not reproach her. She only gave her a handkerchief and sat there, holding her.
It took some time before Sophie could find her composure again.
She gave her best attempt at a laugh, but was afraid it sounded rather shaky.
“You must think me foolish. I have nothing to complain of, not really. My marriage is an advantageous one by any reasonable measure. It is only that — I had thought he felt the same. I truly thought he loved me. And in that moment, I learned I was a fool to imagine I could inspire such emotion in such a man. I cannot believe I actually thought I was worthy of it.”
“Stop that,” Mrs Anderson said sternly. “My dear girl, you are letting your fears outweigh your logic rather badly.”
“I know — I ought to be grateful —”
“No!” Mrs Anderson exclaimed. “No, Sophie, that is not what I mean at all. Yes, you made a good bargain on the marriage mart, but that does not mean that you can never want anything more. This is not the logic I am speaking of. Sophie, do I understand correctly that the duke said love was not real? Not that he could not feel it for you, but that he does not believe in it at all?”
“Yes, that is right.”
“And if I understand rightly, you have taken this all on yourself. You have decided that it is your fault that he does not understand love. That if you were only worthy — whatever that blessed word may mean! — he would love you.”
Sophie shook her head. “Mother, even your partiality cannot delude you into thinking I am the model of a duchess. We have no connections, no fortune — I am not even beautiful, like Isabel.”
Sophie had half-hoped for and half-dreaded a reflexive protest that she was just as beautiful as her sister, but Mrs Anderson surprised her. “My dear girl, if your husband wanted a diamond of the first water, he would have married one. He wants you.”
“But he does not love me.”
Mrs Anderson shook her head impatiently. “The fault is not in you, Sophie, but in his understanding of love. He cannot give you the words, but all his actions declare he loves you. I cannot say that the words do not matter. They do. But they are not everything.”
Sophie sighed. “I suppose not.”
“What you must not do, my love, is take this burden upon yourself. I do not say that you are wrong to want love from your husband — the acknowledgement of it as well as the actions. But while he cannot give it to you, you must not believe that this makes you unworthy. That is a multiplication of pain that is quite unnecessary. I would not wish you to believe that the fault is yours.”
“Thank you, Mama,” Sophie said. “I am glad that you think so.”
“More to the point, I do not think the duke would wish you to believe it. Do you not agree?”
It was a different way of thinking about the matter, and one that could not help but capture her attention.
Strange, to put down the fog of personalities and imagine what Jonathan would say, if it had not been impossible to discuss such a point with him.
But when the picture was at last clear in her mind, Sophie did not need long to find her answer.
“You are certainly right, Mama. However much we may be at odds, he did not accuse me of being lacking. Only of being na?ve.”
Mrs Anderson smiled. “The poor young man. I would say rather that it takes courage to believe in love, not naivete. But perhaps he will come to understand this in time.”
“I hope so,” Sophie whispered. In her heart, she could not believe it. Jonathan was not one to change his mind easily. Certainly, he would not change for her sake. She had already learned, too painfully, that she did not have such power over his mind and heart.
For her mother’s sake, Sophie put her best attempt at a brave smile on her face. “Thank you for your wise counsel, mama. You have relieved my mind greatly. Shall I bring Isabel back, so that we may complete our discussions about the ball?”
Mrs Anderson observed her daughter narrowly. At last, she seemed to come to a decision. Smiling ruefully, she agreed. “Yes, Sophie, I suppose you might as well.”
Sophie hurried away, feeling that however helpful her mother’s advice, she was badly in need of a reprieve from so painful a topic. In the happy bustle of talking over plans, she almost managed to go long moments without thinking of it.
Almost.
In the carriage on the ride home, the thoughts came rushing back.
Haverly House could not give her the same sense of ease and grace that it once had.
Sophie would have to brave the concerned looks of the servants, Jonathan’s coldly formal greeting in place of the open joy with which he would have greeted her only a few days ago.
Sophie half-wished she could take it all upon herself, apologise to her husband for acting the fool and ask for everything to go back as it had been.
She knew she could not. It would have been a lie, and lying to him in cold blood would have been worse than anything.
The carriage drew up smoothly before the house.
Ned the coachman said, “Here we are, my lady,” with his usual pleasant informality.
Sophie was on the point of getting down when he cleared his throat, sounding unusually nervous, and added, “I should like to say something, Duchess. If you would forgive me being so bold.”
“Please do,” Sophie invited him, hardly knowing what to say in her surprise.
He cleared his throat again. “It’s only…
well, my lady, I just wanted to say as I never saw the duke as happy as he’s been since the engagement, not in twenty years of working for the family.
And if there was to be any kind of trouble…
I hope you could be patient with him, my lady.
He hasn’t seen a happy marriage before. It may take some getting used to. ”
Sophie had listened to him in silence, her astonishment growing all the time. It was indeed a shocking liberty, but not one she was likely to resent. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I promise I shall keep it in mind.”
And with that, she returned to the house.