Page 19 of Sophia’s Letter (Ladies of Munro #1)

T obias put down the small pile of books he had rescued from the musty, old library. He and his uncle had just had tea and were ready to resume their task of reading and cataloging Newcliffe Hall’s vast collection.

“Move that to the sideboard. There’s a good fellow.” Uncle Edmund gestured at the tray that held their empty cups and sandwich platter. “Let’s not risk getting crumbs on our work.”

Tobias did as he’d been instructed, then returned to the large desk they shared, sitting down opposite his uncle.

It had been two days since the poetry reading. Miss Sangford and her threats were a thing of the past. She had mercifully moved on. There had been no further communication from her. Some delicate inquiry told Tobias that the Sangfords had abruptly left for Steeples rather sooner than expected, a sure sign that their nemesis had fled with her tail between her legs. Sophia was safe. Their secret was safe. It was time to make a clean breast of things with his uncle. He had made a vow to do so, and he considered himself a man of his word. They must have honesty between them. Even if his uncle was disappointed in him. Even if it cost him his living, here among the books and the quiet conversation with a man he respected.

He had accepted the consequences when he had chosen to protect Sophia and their future together. But there was one repercussion that made this confession more difficult—it would hurt Uncle Edmund.

Across the desk sat a man who had been good to him. A singularly decent man. His only confidant beyond Sophia. Did he really have to break his heart? Would their friendship be able to recover from his deception?

There was only one way to find out.

“Uncle…” he began tentatively.

Uncle Edmund was checking the titles of the books Tobias had brought. “Are these the last volumes in the series? I have read two, and you, I believe, have managed three. I recollect there being ten volumes in this author’s collection. But you have only brought a further three. What has become of the other two?”

“Perhaps your father never acquired the full set?” Tobias answered, momentarily put off his stride.

“More likely, he lit his pipe with the pages,” his uncle muttered. “Very well, I suppose I shall have to write to my book agent and see if the missing volumes can be procured. There is something very unsettling about an incomplete collection.”

“Er…before you do that, Uncle, there is something I need to talk to you about.”

“Can it wait? We can talk over dinner.”

“I really need to unburden myself to you. The longer I wait, the more difficult it becomes.”

Uncle Edmund sat back, tapping his fingers lightly on the desk’s mahogany surface. “Is this about Miss Grant again?”

“No. Well, yes, in a way.”

“Well, which is it? Because honestly, Tobias, your mind has not been on your work of late. I count on you, you know. This library is too demanding a task for one man alone.”

“You are right, of course.” Tobias lowered his head. “I had hoped matters between myself and Miss Grant would have moved along rather more definitively. Yet an engagement remains elusive.” He lifted his gaze quickly. “That is no excuse, mind you. I merely mean to indicate that my distractions should not interfere indefinitely.”

“Hmm. And yet, here we are, conversing about Miss Grant once again when we should be applying ourselves to the books before us.”

Tobias squirmed in his chair. “Sorry, Uncle. It’s just that something has happened that forced my hand. It has meant I have had to keep a secret from you. And that does not sit well with me.”

His uncle frowned. “You have not eloped, have you? I would be hard-pressed to approve of such behavior.”

“No, Uncle, that is not our intention at all!”

“Good. Young people often have an exaggerated sense of the romantic. If it is not balanced with a solid dose of common sense, it rarely ends well.”

“I will not apologize for loving Sophia as fully as I do,” Tobias said rather more heatedly than he had intended to.

“Nor have I asked you to. Provided your sense of reason is not left in the wake of your other, more corporeal, senses.”

Tobias subsided. His uncle was not asking anything more than his own parents would. For him to be a gentleman. To have integrity. Ah, yes, about that…

“I have used reason as far as circumstances allowed,” he explained. “But it has not been enough to spare me a decision I deeply regretted having to make.”

“Have you shamed your family?” his uncle asked sternly.

“Not directly. But I have betrayed a trust. And it is something I wish most earnestly to repair.”

The earl leaned forward, steepling his fingers to his lips. “This sounds like a serious matter, Nephew. I can understand that it has taken your mind from our endeavor here.”

“These are all reasons why I need to rid myself of the secret. And take accountability for my actions.”

His uncle nodded sagely. “That is no less than I expect from you. Let’s have it, then. I promise to listen and not judge unfairly.”

Tobias groaned within. Why couldn’t his uncle be more of a cad? He should shout his disappointment and beat his worthless nephew’s back with a rod. That would be easier to bear. Instead, his uncle was breaking his heart with kindness.

He dipped his toe in the shallow end of the story, easing his uncle into the sordid details. “It has to do with the poetry reading,” he began.

Uncle Edmund’s pleasant demeanor shifted. “Does this matter affect the viscount? He is not only an important man, Tobias. He is my friend.”

“No, not at all! The fact that Lord Howell had little to no success finding his match at that gathering had nothing to do with me!” He heard the defensiveness in his own voice and remembered where his guilt lay. “Er…however…the presence of Miss Sangford was my fault entirely.”

“Miss Sangford?” The earl’s brows knitted together. “What does she have to do with anything?”

The chair felt hard and uncomfortable. Tobias shifted his weight without relief. His skin grew hot and prickly. He needed to be rid of this secret! He sucked in his breath, then poured out the story all in a rush.

“She wanted to meet you, but she’s a terrible person, all malice and manipulation. The very idea of her sidling up to you, let alone marriage! I shudder at the thought. I should’ve said no , but she wouldn’t let me. She hasn’t a virtuous bone in her body. She gave me no choice. And Sophia would have borne the brunt of it.”

As Tobias hurtled toward the truth, he knew he was going about it with no sense of direction. He threw the facts out into the universe as the memories came to him. It was a haphazard course, and he could only hope his uncle would be able to make sense of it.

“Sophia’s father would have found out,” he stumbled on. “She was terrified. So we arranged for the poetry reading to throw her off. That is, Miss Sangford, not Sophia. I wouldn’t want to be rid of Sophia. But you knew that. And I couldn’t tell you, otherwise she—Miss Sangford—would write a letter filled with enough truth and added lies to destroy my chances.”

He stopped, panting.

His uncle sat, stupefied, his mouth slightly open in a pose that was mildly undignified and utterly confused. Then he blinked and shook his head.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t understand a word of that. I thought you and Miss Sangford were not previously acquainted. And what has she to do with Mr. Grant?”

“Sophia and I met her at her sister’s wedding.”

“Her sister is married? That is a welcome development. Odd that I did not see the banns.”

“Um, well, she…that is to say…she eloped.”

“I see.” There was a pause. The earl’s voice grew softer. “That must have been hard for her father.”

“Apparently, he did not approve for some reason.”

“There may have been no reason.”

Tobias cocked his head to the side. “That doesn’t make sense, Uncle.”

“Nevertheless, it is likely true. And you say you attended this wedding?”

“With Sophia, yes.”

“And you met Miss Sangford there? Is she a friend of the family? As I understand it, Miss Grant specifically invited her to the poetry reading.”

“No.” Tobias gritted his teeth. The memory of that she-devil was still very fresh in his mind. She had come so close to tearing him and Sophia apart. A vicious, unfeeling woman who would have as pleasantly destroyed anything in her path as sipped a cup of tea. “No,” Tobias repeated. “She is a friend to no one. Certainly not friendship of the kind you or I would undertake.”

“And yet she was at the wedding?”

“She was at the church with a fr… a person as ill-suited to friendship as herself. They had an appointment with the vicar. And she recognized Sophia’s sister. She quickly deduced the rest.”

“And this is the secret you have kept from me? The fact that you attended these clandestine nuptials?”

Tobias rubbed the back of his hand. This wasn’t getting any easier.

“Unfortunately, this is only where the matter began.”

His uncle sat back in his chair. “Go on.”

“When Miss Sangford realized who I was, she blackmailed me.”

“And who are you to be blackmailed?” the earl asked with a tilt to his head.

“Sophia’s secret beau, and your nephew.”

“Ah.” His uncle nodded, seeming to understand. “She wanted money for her silence on your relationship.”

“I’m afraid it’s worse than that.”

“Tell me.”

“She wanted an introduction to you.”

“To me ? Why?”

By now, Tobias was in a sweat. His uncle, by comparison, was entirely calm, the truth of his betrayal still eluding him. But that was about to change.

“She… Well, the fact is…she hoped to… I mean… She thought she could capture your affection, and with it, your wealth and title.” The miserable words were finally said. Tobias bowed his head in shame.

Of all the things his uncle might say, of all the reactions Tobias had imagined, what followed so shocked him that he could only stare, aghast.

Uncle Edmund laughed. He laughed loud and long. Tears of mirth gathered and were dabbed away with a long finger, while he continued to chortle. Tobias could only watch, mystified, until his uncle finally reached for his handkerchief and noisily blew his nose. He folded and returned it to his pocket, patting the dark fabric and then wiping his eyes with the heel of his palm once more.

“Poor Miss Sangford,” he said, slightly more serious now. “What a disappointment for her. Though from what Lord Howell told me, not entirely undeserved.”

“What did he say?” Tobias asked, still dazed from the turn of events.

“Just that he’d seen her entering the library after me and rushed to warn me of her—shall we say—interests. It had taken longer than he’d liked because he’d had to wade through a tide of enthusiastic mothers trying to introduce their daughters. But that is neither here nor there. The point is, she had tried her luck with him before.”

“The nerve of that woman,” Tobias said more in wonderment than anger. “What does she think qualifies her for such a match?”

“Of course, she never stood a chance,” his uncle agreed. “The viscount is an excellent judge of character, especially for one so young.”

“No wonder she was so facetious toward him in the library.”

“Miss Sangford’s reaction to being rejected was unpleasant, to say the least.” His uncle shook his head. “Sour grapes, you know. She spoke rather uncharitably about the viscount, which only made it harder for him to find a suitable match. Rather like your Miss Dunbar.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call her that,” Tobias said sulkily.

Uncle Edmund waved a perfunctory hand. “You know what I mean.” He placed his palms firmly on the desk. “Right, shall we get back to it?”

“Sorry?”

“I assume we’re done. You met a woman of low substance who threatened to tell your secret unless you introduced her to me. You did so. As you can tell”—he shrugged—“we are not now, in fact, courting. Your secret connection with Miss Grant is safe, albeit unresolved. Was there anything else?”

“I went behind your back,” Tobias explained, feeling a little foolish for having to clarify to his uncle what, exactly, his wrongdoing had been. “I arranged a scenario that put you at risk, protecting Sophia and myself instead of you. But Miss Sangford said that she would only guarantee her silence if I remained silent too.”

“A difficult situation, and most unfortunate. I am glad it is resolved.”

“Uncle.” Tobias threw up his palms in exasperation. “Why aren’t you angry with me?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“Yes! Well…obviously not. But I do not know how to ask your forgiveness if you don’t feel wronged.”

His uncle folded his hands. “Did you believe I was truly at risk from this dubious woman?”

“I hoped not. But I could not be sure.”

“And if she had succeeded?”

“I would have said something then.”

“Even if she had carried out her threat?”

“Yes.”

“Then I was never truly at risk.”

Tobias processed this.

“I wish to apologize, anyway,” he said. “It is not the way I mean to conduct myself. I have nothing but the utmost respect for you, Uncle. I would hate for you to lose your trust in me.”

The worry must have shown upon his face, for his uncle paused to contemplate it. The seconds ticked by, each an eternity of guilt, regret, and hope. The relief when the earl finally spoke was so profound, Tobias was willing to accept whatever harsh words his uncle might have for him, just to be done with them.

“Tobias.” The tone was firm, but kind. “You are not a deceitful chap by nature. I have seen you struggle with that aspect of your relationship with Miss Grant. You have only accepted its necessity for her sake. It was likely the same when dealing with Miss Sangford. And yet, there is a line you will not cross. That, my boy, is an important difference, and I recognize it.”

The love and understanding from this man whom Tobias so valued hit him squarely in the chest with the thunk of an arrow. It was a blow of mercy, and yet it hurt. He didn’t deserve it. But, oh, how he cherished it!

“Now,” his uncle continued, “do I approve of subterfuge in general? Certainly not. But I am not so rigid in my thinking that I cannot allow for the complexities of human nature. In short, you may rest easy. All is well between us.”

Tobias felt a lump form in his throat. He could not speak. He had no words. He nodded vigorously, then looked away, as even this small act brought more emotion to the surface.

Uncle Edmund waited patiently and without embarrassment as Tobias pulled himself together. It took a little longer than Tobias cared to admit. Weeks of anxious fretting were not so easily smoothed away. He was immensely grateful for his uncle’s calm reason. It was a big part of why he had not thought Miss Sangford a real danger to him.

As his emotions settled, a thought he had tucked away, almost unnoticed, in the back of his mind now rose up and demanded attention. It was really none of his business. He should probably just leave it alone. After all, his uncle had been so accommodating, he had no right to…

“Uncle,” he said, before his good sense could talk him out of it, “why did Miss Sangford never stand a chance? Her charm was so convincing, it was chilling to watch. And yet you gave her no thought other than what civility demanded. And what did Mr. Grant mean when he said you understood about sorrow, and something that happened long ago? I don’t wish to pry. It just puzzles me.”

“It is personal,” his uncle said.

“Oh.” Tobias could not hide his disappointment.

“But no secret.”

Curiosity flickered back to life. “If it is uncomfortable to talk about…” Tobias ventured.

Uncle Edmund exhaled deeply. “It is not uncomfortable in the sense of shame or embarrassment. But I do not enjoy reliving the past. It lives with me regardless. And that is enough.”

Tobias sat on tenterhooks. Would it end there? Would his uncle say more? He waited in breathless silence. And then…

“I had thought your mother may have told you, but I suppose she did not think it necessary. You were just a very small boy.”

Tobias did not respond, afraid to discourage his uncle with a misplaced phrase.

“I had a wife. I had a child.” He swallowed. “Children.”

The news hit Tobias like a stone. And above the shock, floated the terrible word. Had .

“Did she…? Did they…?” Tobias could not bring himself to utter his fears aloud.

“Yes. It was a difficult birth. There were twins. The boy came first. My son. My heir.”

His uncle winced.

“The midwife thrust him into my arms. I did not notice her urgency. I only noticed the way his fingers curled over the blanket he was swaddled in. I tucked my finger inside his tiny hand, marveling at his miniature perfection. Grateful for the life that had been added to ours.”

Dread seeped into Tobias’s heart, knowing what must follow.

“I stood in the hallway, my son safely in my arms, when the door the midwife had rushed to close slowly creaked open and revealed all.”

Tobias no longer wished to hear more. But it was too late. He must share his uncle’s sorrow now, the price of his curiosity.

“My wife was bleeding. I have never seen so much blood…” His uncle’s voice cracked. His narration ceased.

Tobias felt his world tilt. All this time, his uncle had carried this image of his wife. This terrible scene had branded his heart with pain and loss. Tobias could scarcely believe that he had the will to tell more. But he did—with a strength that Tobias could not conjure the equal of. Perhaps he needed to tell all, to shift from that moment of horror to the outcome, to release it once again to the ether of the universe. But if Tobias thought what would follow would be easier, he was wrong.

“She was too weak to push our daughter out,” his uncle said, his voice rough and low. “The midwife looked to me, and I deduced her meaning clearly. There was nothing more she could do. We could not save my wife. But we could save the baby. We must send for the doctor at once.”

“I sat with my wife. My son and I together. I placed him in her arms. She was barely conscious. But she tilted her head against his. With the last of her breath, she kissed his tender cheek. By the time the doctor came, she was gone. Our daughter was stillborn. Within a week, our son joined them. He had come too soon. He needed his mother. He went to be with her.”

“I am so sorry,” Tobias said, though his words fell short of the terrible emotion they expressed. “I understand now.” Yet how little he understood! It was a scene of tragedy beheld from afar. Empathy and compassion arose from the sight, but he could never truly understand the magnitude of such an experience from this great a distance. In a way, he as grateful it was so. To share a full understanding, he would have to share fully in the suffering. With Sophia so very much still with him, he did not want to know more. The thought of losing her in the same way… No, it did not bear thinking about.

What he did understand now was his uncle’s solitude. How could another woman ever hold his attention? He had nothing left to give. All he had ever loved had been wrenched from him. Who could compare to the perfection with which one regards a beloved in memory? And when one has suffered such immense loss, who would risk more?

“Do you have satisfaction?” His uncle’s words jerked Tobias from his thoughts.

“Satisfaction, Uncle?” Tobias stared at the man before him. How could satisfaction result from such a revelation?

“You had questions, about my conversation with Mr. Grant, and about my immunity to the charms of women. Do you have the answers you sought?”

Tobias lowered his head. “I am ashamed to have asked. I had not meant to make you relive such a brutal experience.”

“You did nothing more than my own memory demands of me every day. That is why I fill my mind with books and art—to squeeze out any room for these thoughts to creep in. Your curiosity only meant I spoke them aloud. But they are with me always.”

“Then,” Tobias said after some thought, “the best remedy I can offer is to let us resume our work.”

Uncle Edmund surfaced a little from his gloom. “Yes,” he answered, “that’s the very thing. A good book. Preferably one with complex notions, so that I may immerse myself entirely in deciphering them.” His gaze fell longingly on the volumes Tobias had brought. “But first, I think, a letter to my agent.” He cast about him for paper to write on.

Tobias handed him a blank sheet and a feeble smile of support. He had not yet learned what his uncle had mastered—to throw layers of calm over his tangled feelings. He prayed he would never have to.

“Thank you, my boy,” his uncle said, reaching across the desk. As he took the page, he paused, his eyes firmly upon Tobias. “You know, I often think my son would have been a lot like you. At least, it would have pleased me if he were.”

“Th-Thank you, Uncle,” Tobias stuttered. “That is to say… I mean… You are…” He lapsed into helpless quiet.

“And Miss Grant is every bit the daughter I wish I had known. In fact, I think I shall write to a few of my contacts and see what can be done with her current work-in-progress. I know you have both devoted much of your time and skill to it. If it is anything like the excellent material I heard at the reading, there should be no difficulty at all acquiring a publisher for her second anthology.”

Tobias opened his mouth, only to be silenced before he even had a chance to speak.

“No,” his uncle protested, “you may not run off and write to Miss Grant about it. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I shall make the necessary inquiries. And when you next see her, perhaps she could provide some samples of what they might expect if they are interested. Mind you, I make no promises.”

A thousand different responses rushed Tobias’s brain all at once, congesting the natural flow to his tongue so that, instead of his usual deluge of speech, Tobias could only offer wordless wonder. It was the third time in as many minutes that he had been robbed of speech, and he took it as a sign to attempt it no further. He merely nodded and restricted his answer to a heartfelt “Thank you.”

For his uncle, it seemed enough. He immediately set to work on his letters, peace descending once more as his tortured mind was relieved of its heaviest burden, if only for a while.

For Tobias, his thoughts turned, as always, to Sophia. How animated those bright eyes of hers would become when she heard the news! She would throw her arms around him and reward him simply for being the messenger. A flush of concentration would touch her cheeks as she pondered which poems to send. She would argue none were good enough. He would watch her fret, agitated and earnest in always giving her best. He would kiss her fingertips and tell her that she was most beautiful when she fussed. And she would glare at him, only to catch the hint of passion that lay shallow in his breast, and lose her train of thought.

After all the challenges, troubles, and difficult conversations of the past several weeks, he could not wait for Monday to come. A day with Sophia. A day closer to one day calling her his wife.