Page 23 of Sophia’s Letter (Ladies of Munro #1)

I f her father could have called her into his study to stand, submissive, on the rug before him, Sophia was certain he would have done so. Instead, he loomed over her where she sat on the chaise lounge, Katie having been sent from the room.

“What have you to do with this?” he demanded, thrusting a paper toward her.

Sophia took the page, recognizing Tobias’s handwriting even from a distance.

Her father gave her no chance to read it before grumbling, “It’s unheard of. The audacity. He must have been encouraged.” He glared at her. “Well?”

“Give me but a moment, Father,” Sophia answered, rapidly skimming over the letter. And then, “Oh. I see.”

“Quite.”

“It is not, in fact, unusual for a neighbor to request a visit.”

“All our neighbors know better.”

“He is new to the area.”

“His uncle should have warned him.”

“He likely did not think to ask his uncle’s permission to act civilly.”

Papa must have picked up on her sardonic tone, for he gave her a quizzical look before folding his hands behind his back. “You seem to support his wish to see me.”

“It does not seem unreasonable.”

“I intend to say no .”

Sophia stiffened. “For what reason?”

“For the same reason I do not receive other visitors—I do not wish to. The sooner they understand that, the sooner we may resume normality.”

“Normality?” Sophia was tired. Tired of living like this. Tired of denying herself. Tired of carrying her father’s sadness. It was enough. If she did not speak up now, she was accepting that her father’s world would forever be hers. And it was not normal. “It is an odd choice of words for the way we live,” she declared.

Her father narrowed his eyes. “I do not like your tone, daughter. I would expect that from Adriana, but not from you.”

“Oh,” Sophia responded, the bitterness shallow in her words, “are we using her name again?”

She could see confusion flit across her father’s face—a rapid blink of his eyes, a momentary frown, then a blank expression.

“What has come over you?” he finally managed to say.

“Nothing.” Everything , she wanted to scream. Everything has changed! I have found unconditional love, real acceptance, true purpose. And you would have me give it all up. To be a shadow of all I should be. But she bit her tongue. She must be calm. Softly does it. He must hear the truth, but it must not frighten him. It must free him. If he could release the grip of his sorrow, they would all be free.

“Nothing?” he said with obvious disbelief. “I think not. Yesterday, you told me that you wish to marry one day, spoiling a perfectly good carriage ride. And today, you are petulant. This is not my Sophia.”

Sophia folded her hands resolutely upon her lap. “If you think back far enough, Father, you will remember a Sophia exactly like this.”

“She was a child.”

“Who was never allowed to grow up.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Telling you that I can see myself getting married at some point should not have ruined anything. It should not even have needed saying. All grown women think in this way. Their families encourage it. And Adriana was right to claim it for herself.”

Sophia watched as her father ballooned with indignation. “What right have you to speak to me in this fashion? I am your father!”

Such a claim would previously have stopped Sophia in her tracks. Today, however, she remained resolute.

“Papa, do you remember a time when you were happy?”

“I will not suffer to be spoken to…”

“It was when Mama was alive. We were all happy then. And we all miss her. But she would be devastated to see what our family has become.”

Her father’s face grew flushed as he leaned toward her, an angry finger extended. “Sophia, you go too far…”

“No, Papa, it is you who have gone too far. And I have shared in your reckless sorrow because I felt I was to blame.”

Her father pulled up short. “What do you mean? How were you to blame?”

“Because Mama became sick with my illness.”

“I don’t understand. How is that your fault?”

“It isn’t. But all these years, I believed it was. And the more you mourned her loss, the heavier the blame sat upon my shoulders.”

Her father became very quiet. “That is a heavy burden.”

The silence in the room thickened.

“You carry the weight of it now?” he asked at last.

Sophia took a deep breath. “No, Papa, Tobias helped me.”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Mr. Mannerly. He… He makes me happy.”

Her father’s face puckered into a scowl. “You know him well enough to say such things?”

Sophia ignored his anger. It had already been allowed to reign for far too long. “It is possible to mourn Mama and still know love, as she did.”

Her father’s expression was pure thunder, his eyes dark, his lips wet with spittle. “You have no right to use your mother to justify your betrayal!”

She locked eyes with her father and said, in a voice that was both soft and pure iron, “I will speak of Mama. I will speak of Adriana. I will speak of Tobias. And I will love them, Papa, and you, for as long as I live. And you will make room in your heart for this. For your heart is too big to go without love. That is why you have filled it up with all this foolishness. Yes, foolishness, Papa. And you will let it go now. I, your daughter, ask it of you.”

“I will… You can’t… This isn’t…” Papa’s spluttering drew to a halt.

Sophia threw off the rug that warmed her legs, swinging them carefully to the floor.

“What are you doing?” Her father gasped.

She stood slowly and took a step forward. Then another. It was enough to cross the distance between them. She slipped her arms around him.

“Let it go, Papa. I am here.”

“No,” he cried, taking her wrists and peeling her free. “You wish to desert me, as your sister has!”

Sophia shook her head. “The only way to lose me is to force me to stay. You are throwing away the very things you wish to cling to. Just think, there could be grandchildren—beautiful little snuggly things with the same eyes or chin or cheeks as Mama’s. We should lift up her memory to the light and celebrate it, not bury it deep in our hearts like a dark and lonely tomb.”

Sophia’s legs began to buckle. She stumbled backward toward the sofa. Her father lunged forward and gripped her wrists to steady her. He lowered her gently, then stepped back.

His eyes were upon her, but his mind was far away. The anger was gone. He looked quite lost, as if unsure what his rage should be replaced with. Sophia wished she could show him the way, but she had done all she could. The rest was up to him.

Her father stood, seemingly undecided, his expression giving Sophia no clue as to whether she had reached him or not. He neither argued his cause nor accepted Sophia’s. He merely stood, transfixed by thoughts Sophia could not decipher.

All at once, he turned on his heel and was gone. He disappeared so briskly that Sophia barely had enough time to call out “Papa!” to no avail. She sat, trapped by her impaired legs, unable to run after him, to comfort him, to insist he listen rather than draw back into his suffocating cocoon.

A part of her wished to send for a footman to be her legs. She imagined her father’s chagrin at being chased down in this fashion and thought better of it. All she could do was allow him some time for her words to do their work, to seep into his heart and dissolve the barriers he had put up. Barriers that were meant to keep out more pain and loss, but, instead, had trapped these sensations within.

She had been brave, braver than she’d been in a full fifteen years. She had spoken up. She had stood her ground. Her father needed to process that the frightened, compliant Sophia was no more. He must remember how much he cherished that bold little girl who had once loved him with abandon and not trepidation. He must remember, and celebrate her return. She must give him time.

Time. It was in never-ending supply in this house, and yet she felt she did not have enough of it. Not the kind she wanted. Time with Tobias. Time with Adriana. Time filled with choice.

But she would claim it. Not much longer now. Her father would give his blessing, or she would go without. She had survived many hard years. She was strong enough. With Tobias at her side, she could conquer the world.

But it would all be much easier if she could only conquer her father first.