Page 21 of Sophia’s Letter (Ladies of Munro #1)

S ophia twirled a second time, and Katie clapped her hands in delight.

“Oh, miss, you look wonderful! The color suits you.”

“I didn’t realize how much I had missed it. You don’t think it’s too much?’

“It’s only lilac, miss. Half-mourning. Most ladies are wearing it after a year. Some even six months. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you in anything but black.”

“Well, you’ve only been working for us for five or six years. So you wouldn’t have.”

“High time, then, if you don’t mind my saying so, Miss Grant. And I know a certain gentleman who is sure to agree.”

Sophia’s hand traced the trim of lace at the low neckline. “Yes, Tobias will notice at once.” Her hand whipped away and her wistful smile disappeared. “But so will Papa.” She sat down quite suddenly, her legs tired from the brief exertion. “There will be questions. No doubt he will even draw conclusions. Accurate ones. But I must begin to stand up for the little things. If I cannot be bold in my small choices, I will never gain the courage to fight for the harder ones.”

“You don’t think he will be angry, miss? Not about something as harmless as this?’

“Oh, he won’t see it as harmless. This is a much bigger step than perhaps you realize, Katie. I am signifying that I am coming out of mourning. I am the only one of his children who has lingered in it as long as he has. He will feel betrayed. Abandoned. He will feel I no longer honor the memory of my mother. And—more importantly—he will ask himself why. Why, all of a sudden, do I do this? He will make the connection with Mr. Mannerly’s visit. And he should . I do not want to live in shadows anymore.”

She spread her fingers across the soft-hued cotton. “I am not as bold as Adriana. I cannot shout and stamp my foot. Besides, that has never been the way to convince Papa of anything. Mama was always gentle in her manipulations. And he welcomed them, accepted them with love, just as they were done with love. If I am ever to resurrect his older, better self, that can be the only way. I must try. Tobias has been so patient, so willing to seek answers. I must match him in effort. Otherwise, I do not deserve him.”

“Yes, miss,” Katie replied. She added nothing more, though Sophia was certain she had much to say. “Shall I do your hair now?”

Sophia nodded, stood carefully, and walked the few steps to the chair that stood before her mirror. Katie began at once to fuss, and Sophia left her to her task.

On the vanity lay the letters Katie had smuggled upstairs. Adriana’s pages were filled with joy. Sophia worried that her sister hid some sorrow beneath the effusion of happiness. But if she did, it was not obvious. Adriana had made her peace, it seemed. She was happy. Sophia did not begrudge her this. There had been enough unnecessary gloom in their home. What was the point of dwelling on things you could not change?

Tobias, as usual, wrote encouragements. His uncle had already passed her manuscript to a friend, confident that it would soon be in print. The thought of reaching this outcome without her father’s help was incredibly freeing. It meant a possible independent income. Along with the small inheritance from her mother, she would have something to add to Tobias’s allowance from his uncle. They could survive on this sum, if they had to.

She prayed it would not come to that.

Katie was taking forever. Sophia’s hair had gradually become a complex pattern of loops and twists. With the final tuck and two more pins, Katie stood back and asked nervously, “What do you think?”

“It is…more complicated than I am used to,” Sophia ventured. In truth, she did not like it. It did not feel like her. But Katie had been so keen.

“You don’t like it.”

“No, no, I…” Sophia stopped. What was it Tobias had said? She was always accommodating everyone else’s feelings. Often at the cost of her own. She took a deep breath. “You have done the style very well, Katie. But I’m afraid it’s just not me . I love the way you normally do it. I would prefer that.”

Katie shrugged and began to unpin Sophia’s locks. She brushed them out again, leaving them mostly loose and curling against her neck.

“You’re right, miss. That does suit you better. The one before was too much.”

“Thank you, Katie.” Sophia took another deep, bolstering breath. “Now…for the real challenge. Let’s see what Papa has to say about my dress.”

Sophia sent for a footman to bring her to the drawing room. Katie followed with the writing tray.

Soon after, Mr. Grant popped his head in at the door.

“I see you are all settled for the morning,” he remarked, taking in the scene. At once, his face dropped. “You are no longer in full mourning.” The statement was simple. Yet it carried the weight of continents.

“No, Papa, I have grown tired of black.” She kept her voice steady. “But I will always miss Mama in my heart, where it matters.”

“I see.” There was a long pause. Sophia could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. “What has brought about this sudden change?”

“It is not sudden. I have been considering easing my self-imposed restrictions for some weeks now. Today, I acted on it. Do you not like the color on me? I feel pretty. I have not felt pretty for such a long time.”

The frown softened. Mr. Grant cleared his throat. “You look well. I am happy to see you thrive.” He swallowed hard. “Your mother would have approved.”

“Thank you,” Sophia whispered shyly. “Your blessing means the world to me.”

Mr. Grant was silent a while longer, though his thoughts were clearly not equally still. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Yes, Father?”

“Now that summer is approaching, perhaps it is time we planned a carriage ride together.”

“I would like that very much.”

“In fact, it is unusually warm today. Perhaps we might even risk a small excursion in the early afternoon.”

“Oh! But it is Monday! You are always out on business on a Monday.”

“Well, perhaps I have become too set in my ways. I have no pressing matters to attend to. I would like to treat you to an outing instead. I so often take the air with Bess. I am afraid I have rather neglected you.”

Sophia’s mind was in turmoil. What was her father’s true motive? Did he want to keep an eye on her? Did he suspect Tobias would come again?

Her heart stopped. Tobias! She must warn him!

“I…er…had planned to catch up with my letters today,” she stammered, her thoughts racing.

“Surely, they will not take the entire day to write?”

Oh, why did her father have to choose today to be persistent in his attention?

“I promised Lord Byron I would send him my comments on his latest poem. It would be poor form to make such a distinguished gentleman wait. And I must choose my words carefully so as not to misrepresent myself. You see my predicament.”

“Very well. I, too, shall attend to my correspondence this morning. If you find yourself making good progress, we may yet fit in a ride while the air is warm. If not, we will both have spent the day productively.”

“Er…yes. Of course. That is an excellent plan. Thank you for thinking of my needs, Papa.”

“It is nothing. You know how important you are to me, Sophia.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“I shall join you for a light repast at lunch. Let us see how well we have applied ourselves by then.”

“Certainly. I will begin at once.”

Sophia could scarcely wait for her father to leave the room. She did not have a moment to lose.

“Katie, what shall I do? Tobias must be warned!”

“I could wait for him down the lane, miss, and stop him before he comes near the house.”

“No, no, if Papa looks in on me while you are out, he will demand an explanation for your absence. I do not want to get you into trouble.”

“What about the gardener? Thomas moves freely about the grounds. The master will not question where he is.”

“But will he recognize Mr. Mannerly?”

“I think everyone knows your gentleman by now, miss. We sort of keep an eye out for him, if you’ll pardon the cheek of it, miss.”

“I don’t know what to think of my affairs being spied on, but today, I am grateful for it. Here, let me write a quick note for you to take to Thomas. He is to give it to Mr. Mannerly, and no one else.”

“Yes, miss.”

Sophia scribbled a quick, untidy message. She folded and sealed it and sent Katie off in all haste, cautioning her to keep watch, lest the master see her.

She looked down at her dress. It had been a small triumph. And yet it seemed they made no progress. What was to become of their Mondays together? Did her father suspect Tobias’s interest in her? Would he clamp down harder than ever on her freedom, never trusting her to be alone again? Or had he thought only of her and her fondness for a carriage ride? If he would truly consider what she wanted, she may yet win him over.

Katie returned promptly, assuring Sophia she had not been seen. If their plan worked, Tobias would return home, undetected by her father. Their secret would be safe.

It was small comfort. Their cherished time together today was lost. Once a week had been little enough. Now she couldn’t be certain of any Monday.

The day stretched out interminably before her. It was impossible to concentrate on poetry. Instead, Sophia attempted some embroidery. It was only when Katie fetched her some tea an hour later—and brought news that Thomas had given Mr. Mannerly the note—that Sophia could at last breathe easier.

She settled a little and attempted to deal with her overdue correspondence, which proved a useful distraction. By the time her father had joined her for a light lunch, she had perked up a little and was ready to make the most of their outing together. After all, there was the chance that her father was simply in a good mood. Next week, all might be back to normal. Then again, was that the normal she wanted for herself?

Sophia wrestled with her thoughts until the footman announced that the carriage was ready. Once she was snuggly wrapped up within the compartment, her father seated himself opposite her, smiling benevolently. The coachman clicked his tongue and the horses shifted into motion. The reminder of her recent rides with Tobias brought a warm glow to her heart—and an ounce of courage. She knew what she wanted. She would not give him up. And if her father truly cared, he would not ask her to.

It was a big leap, too much for one conversation. She was not that brave, nor could she expect her father to change his thinking in an instant. But she could take a step in the right direction.

She licked her dry lips. “Papa.”

“Yes?”

“There is something I wish to share with you.”

“I am listening.”

“I have learned something new about myself.”

“Indeed?”

The carriage wheels bumped and rolled. And Sophia’s secrets jostled each other, nudging forward to be heard first. Where to begin?

“Something happened while you were away two months ago, and it has changed the way I think about everything.”

“Oh?” Papa cast his gaze to the window. “You would rather discuss this than enjoy the view?”

“It is more important.”

“We so rarely take a ride together. Surely, it can wait.”

“No. It can’t.”

“Hmm, perhaps I misunderstood your desire for time outdoors.”

“That’s not it. I…”

Realization hit her squarely between the eyes. He was afraid! Terrified, even. She knew, because all too recently, she had lived within fear’s suffocating grip. She recognized its symptoms—the way he licked his dry lips, the fact that he could not look her in the eye, the numerous attempts at deflecting the conversation elsewhere. He was scared of what she would say. He did not want to hear her truth. He was not ready to confront that pain within himself.

Well, she was. She must push through the murky waters of her past toward the light, no matter how small each stroke. Tobias had shown her how to kick her way to the surface, instead of drowning in the past. The sweetness of her first breath of true freedom was within reach. And Sophia wanted to share its intoxicating reward with those she loved.

It was time to teach her father how to swim.