Page 26 of Sophia’s Letter (Ladies of Munro #1)
T o wait a month seemed like an eternity. But Papa had insisted on having the banns read so that all would know their happy news.
Sophia thought the days would crawl by. All she wanted now was to be with Tobias. No more worry. No more secrets.
Well, maybe just the one. She had been preparing a little surprise, with Katie as her willing accomplice. Sophia did not even tell Adriana when she and Freddy came to visit. It was enough to see the family whole again. She did not need to draw attention to her little project.
She almost let the truth slip out with Tobias. He was so observant; it was hard to hide anything from him. So, she talked about Italy. And distracted him with kisses. It was very effective.
In the end, the month was full and glorious and a wonderful prelude for all that lay ahead.
When the day finally arrived, Sophia felt strangely calm. She did one more check that her trousseau was ready and all her papers were carefully bound in their leather portfolio. Her bonnet and a light coat lay waiting on the bed.
Katie brushed her hair. They had discussed twisting daisies into her strands, but Sophia was afraid the bonnet would crush them. Besides, her dress was cheerful enough—a grass-green muslin with white lace trim about the neck and shoulders. It matched her dark looks and the renewed freshness of her spirit. She felt young—girlish, even.
All the way to church that summer morning, she flexed her feet in the carriage. Her father merely thought she was nervous. She knew better. After all, there was nothing about marrying Tobias that brought any sensation other than joyous anticipation. But her feet must be ready, and strong.
Papa descended the carriage and helped Bess down first. Then he beckoned to the footman to carry Sophia into the church.
“No, Papa, I can manage.”
Her father looked dubious. “Let me at least help you down the steps.” He took her by the waist and lifted her lightly through the air, setting her down carefully. He waited until she had steadied herself before he let go. But he did not step back.
“Do not worry, Papa, I can stand on my own two feet. I’ve been practicing.” She looked at the long path to the church entrance. “Perhaps, though, I might not mind leaning upon you a little.”
“It would be my privilege,” he replied, tucking her hand into his elbow and wrapping it with his own. But he remained somewhat distracted. “It is a long distance to Italy,” he murmured, patting her hand absentmindedly. “And you are likely to push yourself too hard. Are you certain it is for the best? We could take care of you until his lordship and your husband return.”
Sophia turned to face her father. “I am strong enough, Papa. You will see. And I will write to you every day to share all the adventures I am having. You will be assured of my wellbeing. Even a little amazed, I should think.”
Her father squeezed her hand. “I am sufficiently amazed already. There is no need to prove yourself to me.”
Sophia looked up towards the church entrance. It was a portal to her new life—one in which she could be fully herself. Papa was right. There was nothing more to prove, just a life to be lived, and lived well.
Her brothers had preceded them on horseback and were already seated inside, but a handful of people waited outside the door to greet the bride. As Sophia took her first steps, Adriana hastened toward her.
“Fee! It is too far. You will tire before you reach the building.”
“I feel fine, Deedee. But you may walk with me if you wish. Though I daresay your condition is more fragile than mine.”
Adriana blushed and touched her hand to her belly. “It is scarcely a bump yet. How did you know?”
“Freddy has been beaming like the cat that got the cream.” Sophia indicated toward him with her head. “Though you could have waited until I came back from Italy. I will be sorry to miss the arrival of your little one.”
“Well, I hope to be there to welcome yours.”
“One thing at a time,” replied Sophia, stopping to catch her breath. She looked toward the door, estimating the distance that remained to pace herself. “Is that Lord Carthige with Freddy and the vicar?”
Bess piped up. “He seems very solemn. He is nothing like your lovely Tobias, Fee. Are they really related?”
“Oh, he is harmless,” Adriana answered, leaning in a bit closer to whisper. “Though the vicar might disagree. The earl has been chewing his ear off about the passage for today’s service and how—did he know?—the translation from the Greek leaves much to be desired.” She grinned. “It is just as well you know your classical languages so well, Fee. No doubt your new household will be filled with lively debate.”
“I would enjoy that, I think,” said Sophia, panting a little.
As they neared the entrance, Lord Carthige detached himself from the small gathering and strode smartly up to the bride. He offered a stiff bow, his hand upon his heart.
“Miss Grant. An honor. Mr. Grant, my sincere congratulations.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Sophia’s father answered. “I’m afraid I have not been much of a neighbor to you, or anyone, for that matter.”
“It is nothing,” Lord Carthige replied kindly. “I’ve been told I am an even greater hermit than yourself. But I shall not mind if the new lady of the house wishes to have guests. As long as I am not expected to receive them. My library and my study are sufficient for my needs. Mr. and Mrs. Mannerly may make what they want of the rest. During my lifetime, at least.”
“Do you hear that, Fee?” Adriana nudged Sophia. “Mrs. Mannerly is to be lady of the house.”
“Mrs. Mannerly is yet to be made,” their father reminded them. “Let’s get you all inside before her husband-to-be wonders what has become of her.”
Freddy collected Adriana, and Lord Carthige offered his arm to young Bess. Sophia imagined it took every ounce of restraint for Bess not to squeal with delight. The vicar waited for them to find their seats, then he gestured for Sophia to enter.
She turned to her father. “I must do this on my own, Papa.”
He patted her hand, then wiped a stray tear from his eye. “I believe you can do anything you set your mind to. But I will still be here whenever you need me.” He reached over and kissed her brow. One last squeeze of her hand, and he set her free.
At the far end of the church, Tobias waited, his eyes trained on the door. The moment Sophia’s father walked away from her, Tobias began to rush forward, ready to take his place. Then he pulled up, as if by invisible reins. He folded his hands in front of him and waited.
Sophia took a deep breath, placing one foot gingerly in front of the other. It was perhaps twenty paces between them. They happened in complete silence. She felt buoyed up by a wave of encouraging thoughts that flowed from all present. Her eyes remained on Tobias as each step took her closer to him. She could see him almost vibrating with the urge to help her, and yet he stood still. With each step, she was more sure of herself, more certain of the man she was walking toward.
At last, they were but a breath apart.
“You beautiful miracle!” he exclaimed, just loudly enough for her to hear. “I always knew there was nothing you couldn’t do. I am such a lucky…”
Sophia quickly put her finger upon his lips. “Your miracle is about to collapse in the aisle. Help me to a seat by the altar.”
Together, they covered the last few steps. Sophia sank into the chair with some relief. Tobias did not release her hand.
“I am all right,” she whispered up at him. “You can let go now.”
“I have no intention of letting go,” he answered. “Not now. Not ever.”
“Good.”
Tobias smiled down at her. She leaned her cheek against the back of his hand.
Yes , she thought as he caressed her skin softly with his thumb, it is all so very, very good. And if the rest of her life was anything like this one moment, nothing could be better.