Page 8 of Sophia’s Letter (Ladies of Munro #1)

T obias did not lift the brass knocker on the door. There was still time to turn back. He could feign illness, say his uncle needed him, make up an unforeseen emergency. Miss Grant’s letter had been so cold, so distant; it was enough to overcome even his boundless enthusiasm.

Almost.

In a secret chamber of his heart, he kept the tiniest flame of hope alive. The speed and force with which she had thrown up her defenses were just another manifestation of her insecurity. He was determined to flush it out, once and for all.

Yet he stood and did not knock.

His uncle’s warnings rang in his ears. “ Do not push too hard. There is sorrow in this house.” He could not deny the wisdom in being cautious. But time was running out. The situation required drastic measures. He had tried his uncle’s way. He had been polite and formal. It had not worked. It had only driven the woman he loved further into herself. For her to abruptly end all correspondence was an extreme action. He would have to match it with his own.

Tobias squared his shoulders. The lovely, brilliant Miss Sophia Grant would be lost to him if his courage failed him. He reached out and, after a brief moment of hesitation, tapped the door with the knocker. It seemed too insignificant a sound to call anyone forth, yet the door swung open, and the butler appeared, his expression predictably neutral, except… Was that a twinkle in his eye?

“Ah, Mr. Mannerly. You are expected.” The twinkling butler waved his arm toward the entrance and stepped aside to allow Tobias in. “If you will follow me.”

Tobias did so, passing the dining room, where he had already made happy memories. This time, however, they came to a halt outside the drawing room, where the heat of a fire pulsed through the doorway. The door was ajar, and the footman knocked softly.

“Mr. Mannerly is here, Miss Grant.”

There was a slightly longer pause than expected. Tobias could imagine Miss Grant’s body stiffening with apprehension. Perhaps she was also straightening her skirts, or putting aside her sewing. Eventually, after several seconds that extended unbearably in silence, she said, “Thank you. You may go. I have Katie with me.”

The butler nodded to Tobias, twitching away the beginning of a smile, and strode back down the way they had come. A shrewd little face appeared at the door and a hand indicated for him to enter. It was not the elegant hand of Miss Grant, with her long, delicate fingers. There were no dark locks framing handsome features.

As soon as Tobias followed the girl into the room, he spotted Miss Grant on the chaise lounge. His heart soared at the sight of her, all doubts and agitation forgotten. He rushed toward her, his hands extended to grasp hers. He brought the tips of her fingers to his lips and pressed his affection warmly upon them, ignoring the horrified gasp of her lady’s maid.

Miss Grant pulled her hands free, wrapping the hand he had kissed inside the other. “Mr. Mannerly,” she said, her voice strained, “won’t you sit down?”

She was aloof, as she had been in her letter. And yet, her face was flushed, and her eyes were cast shyly away from him. She continued to clasp the hand he had bestowed his tender kiss upon. It did not seem to be the tight clench of regret, but rather a sort of cradling, as if she silently savored the memory of his touch.

He should have been confused. Instead, her inconsistencies gave him confidence that he had read the situation correctly. He had observed this exact behavior repeatedly at dinner two nights before. She had desired him and doubted him, both at once. Of that, he was convinced. When he had asked to meet with her father, she must have guessed what hope filled his heart. And because the poor creature did not think herself worthy, she would not let him try. It was just like her to throw up a barrier to protect herself. If she ended things with him, she could hide herself away once more. If he did not meet her father, he could not ask for her hand. This would be her reasoning.

Well, she was wrong.

Whatever her father’s so-called faults might be, Tobias was not discouraged. After all, it was not Mr. Conrad Grant he hoped to marry. He would insist upon the meeting. He would stand his ground. He would show her he was consistent and true. And she would have to relent. How could she not if he but loved her enough?

Since he knew she would only try to discourage him, he would not give her the opportunity. He must take the matter by the horns, and do it now.

He gripped the nearest armchair and pulled it up next to the chaise lounge. Miss Grant watched him with the startled expression of someone quite out of her depth. He ignored it and leaned forward, bringing his body even closer, so that she looked at Katie in a mute panic. He gave her no chance to speak. He would not let her protest. Today, no matter how she squirmed under the reality of it, she would know the full measure of his devotion.

“Miss Grant,” he began, “thank you for seeing me. I understand full well what you have summoned me to say. But there is something I would have you know.” He turned his head toward Katie. “Might we speak in private?”

Miss Grant shook her head. “That is quite impossible. I am surprised you would ask, sir. I thought you were a man who valued my reputation.”

Tobias wanted to kick himself. He had barely said two words, and already he had offended her. He would have to do better, and fast.

“I assure you, my intentions are entirely honorable. But the matter I wish to discuss is…sensitive.”

“Mr. Mannerly, Katie is my constant companion. There is nothing that escapes her attention. The theme of our discussion is known to her. She will be discreet.”

“It is? She knows why I have come?”

“She does.”

“And she will not reveal anything to your father until I have had a chance to present my case to him?”

Miss Grant hesitated. “Sir, I believe I made it clear that there would be no opportunity to speak with my father. This meeting is to be the last. I will give you the necessary insight into my situation that will make you understand. But that will be the end of it.”

For a woman so determined in her decision, Tobias observed, she did not appear content with her choice. It was just as he had suspected. She was once more choosing fear over happiness. But he would give her something worth believing in. Whatever she doubted within herself, she must be certain of him . It was time to wipe her objections from the table.

“Miss Grant.” He spoke a little less boldly than he would have liked, all too aware of the eyes of young Katie boring into the back of his neck. He took a deep breath. “Sophia. You will let me call you ‘Sophia’? I cannot unburden my soul to anyone but my dearest Sophia.”

“Really, Mr. Mannerly, you…”

“Tobias.”

“What?”

“Tobias. Please call me ‘Tobias.’”

“I will do no such thing!” Sophia protested. But her ears were quite pink with embarrassed pleasure. And she lifted her hand-cocoon to her breast.

“Sophia, I…”

“ Mr. Mannerly …”

“Tobias.”

“Really, I cannot…”

Tobias sighed. “I have already explained. Regardless of our short acquaintance, we are quite beyond the point of Mr. and Miss. I know it. You know it. And what I have to say can bear no further interruption. You may object when I am done.”

“Well! That is rather presumptuous, don’t you…”

“When I am done, dear Sophia.” Tobias laid his finger softly upon his own lips, and Sophia—more from shock than willingness—subsided into silence.

“Much of what I would say,” he continued, “you already know. At dinner, I expressed my admiration for you at great length. And always you resisted. The reason evades me. I have seen the fondness your family has for you. The low esteem of your own worth therefore originates with you. You have convinced yourself no one could love you—not truly. You have placed the burden of your value upon your weakened legs and lungs. But they have nothing to do with it! You have all the qualities I treasure. You are the treasure!”

He stopped to catch his breath, and Sophia immediately opened her mouth to refute all he had said. But Tobias rushed on.

“I know you want to believe it. My feelings have been outspoken and obvious. And I sense that you share them, though you are sensible and restrained in your expression of them. I will not let you drown them out. I know a passionate heart beats in your breast! I have seen it in your writing. I have seen it in your eyes. But you bind your passion tightly with cords of fear. Well, I am here to set it free. I am determined to drive the fear and doubt from your mind. This is no idle declaration. I am committed to you—to us. Marry me, Sophia. Marry me! I give you my heart, my life—unreservedly and forever. Will you give me yours?”

A little gasp of delight percolated up from behind him where Katie sat. But Tobias sought his answer from the woman he loved.

Sophia, far from delighted, froze in place like a deer before the hunter. Then, the cherished kiss no longer cradled, she brought her hands to her mouth to hide the expression of horror stamped upon it.

“It is a shock, I know,” Tobias admitted, but Sophia shook her head violently and tears pooled in her eyes.

“How could you?” she whispered.

Of all the responses Tobias had imagined—and he had tried to predict them all—this was not among them.

“I don’t understand,” he replied honestly.

Sophia wiped her tears roughly and sniffed. “I told myself I knew you. I believed you were a man of honor. And yet you mock me.”

“Mock you? Mock you?” Tobias spluttered. “I offer you everything I have, and you think I mock you? How, pray, have you come to such a monstrous conclusion?”

She stared at him accusingly, her mouth tight with bitterness. “You say you love me, but you are lying to yourself. You have spent but a few hours in my company. You have not been here when I struggle to catch my breath. You have not seen my withered legs. I am a grotesque version of womanhood. You have not seen enough to understand that. You have no business offering me romance when my daily reality would spoil it all.”

“Sophia,” Tobias almost pleaded, “I don’t care about these things. What need have I of a wife with a robust body when we can spend our days poring over the works of great authors, yourself included? Why would I go riding with a woman who is silly or churlish or demanding when I could sit in the company of one whose character and intellect inspires me? Notwithstanding your own opinion, I find you exquisite in every way.”

“You don’t mean that!” Sophia cried, a stifled sob escaping.

“Yes, I do! I know I am bungling this, but you forced my hand. I would have been more patient, given you time to come to these conclusions yourself. But you threatened to cut me off entirely! What was I to do but declare myself at once? I cannot lose you, dearest Sophia. Punish me for my impertinence. Scold me each time we meet. But never, never tell my heart it does not know what it feels. I love you, Sophia. You must accept that. Tell your fears they have had their turn. Now it is time to embrace life. There is no better fit for me than you. Let me make you happy.”

Sophia burst into a flood of tears.

Tobias could stand it no longer. He leaped from his chair and wrapped her in his arms. He gently cupped her face against his shoulder while she wept, strands of her damp hair clinging to his cheek. “There, my love, all is well. You are safe.”

At these words, Sophia pulled herself abruptly from his embrace. “ You are not,” she hiccup-sobbed. “I c-cannot h-h-have you s-sacrifice yourself for me.”

“Oh, you precious fool, it is no sacrifice.” He smiled and wiped away her tears with his thumbs. “You are the greatest gift.”

“No! I am a curse!” She thrust his hand from her. “You must not align your life with mine. I will ruin it.”

Tobias took hold of her wrists and drew her toward him. “Enough of this. Look at me. Look at me. What are you so afraid of? Surely, you cannot still doubt me? What more must I do to prove I will not fail you?”

Sophia’s eyes fixed upon his, wild and frightened. “I am not afraid of you, Tobias. I am afraid of me . You mustn’t love me. I will drag you to your doom.”

And with that, she buried her face in her hands and wept once more.

Tobias was utterly perplexed. Something was at work here he could not fathom. This was much more than insecurity. Sophia was absolutely terrified.

He turned helplessly to Katie. A worried frown pleated her brow. He wished he could ask her what to do, but that would not be proper. Katie must have felt the same, for she tilted her head toward her mistress and silently mouthed, Help her!

If only he knew how!

At a loss, he sat mute and fretting while Sophia emptied herself of emotion long suppressed. When she subsided to the occasional sniffle, Tobias did the only thing he could think of—he offered her his handkerchief. She blew her nose—an earthy, wholesome sound that broke some of the tension in the room.

Sophia looked at the damp cloth apologetically. “I am sorry. I have made a terrible scene.”

“You do not need to apologize. You have done nothing wrong. But perhaps you could explain? There is something at the heart of the matter that you have not told me. It would help if I understood.”

Sophia gave a shuddering sigh. “I can see there is no other way. You will not release me until you grasp the danger you are in.”

“Danger? Tell me.”

Sophia twisted the corner of the handkerchief until it was tightly coiled. She licked her lips to moisten them. A deep breath followed. And another. Finally, she lifted her head to Tobias. “When I am done, you must go. It will be too painful to see the revulsion on your face. You will do me this one kindness.”

“I cannot imagine anything that would cause…”

“Promise me!”

“We shall see.”

Sophia hesitated. Her eyes flicked toward Katie, then back to Tobias. She clenched her fingers and inhaled slowly one more time. “Very well. But I wish you could have spared me this.”

A pang of guilt—for what, he did not yet know—pinched at his conscience. All he could hope for was that the discovery of the truth would erase all the suffering it had caused.

“When I was fourteen,” Sophia explained, “I had the paralysis fever. We did not know it at first. It is not so common an ailment as influenza or other fevers. As with any other childhood illness, my father kept me isolated with a maid and a nurse to tend to me. But I grew weaker, and my symptoms frightened me.”

She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as if to fend off the memory.

“My breathing grew labored and my legs too heavy to move. I was certain I was dying. I was convinced I would succumb to this strange illness with no one by my side except those paid to be there. I begged the nurse to fetch my mother. But my father had given strict orders. And the nurse obeyed.”

Her narration stopped. Sophia was struggling against new tears, and her lips twitched as she fought to quash them. She swallowed hard.

“Every Monday,” she continued haltingly, “Papa…he always… It is the day he deals with business away from home. This day was no different. He left the house…left me as I was at death’s door. I confess that in that moment I hated him. I was afraid, and I was angry. I no longer cared what he thought or did. I only knew that, if I were to leave this world, I wanted my mother to see me across that threshold. And his absence gave me that one chance.”

Sophia began to rock, a futile attempt to soothe herself.

“I pleaded once more with the nurse, convinced her that Papa need never know, and that I deserved to have my mother with me as I took my last breath.” A soft moan escaped her throat.

“Of course my mother came. What mother would refuse such a petition? She held my hand for hours. And though she grew fatigued, she wiped my brow and coaxed me to take a sip of broth. Her presence gave me strength. I did not die.”

Sophia raised her dolorous gaze to Tobias.

“Every day after that, I grew stronger. My fever abated. My breathing improved.” She shivered with apprehension as she prepared to utter words that seemed to have haunted her for years. “But in her room, attended only by a maid and a nurse, my mother sickened. You see,” she said bitterly, “my father had been harsh, but he was right. I had been a danger to the family. In my selfishness, I had made my mother ill.”

She looked at her hands. Tobias wondered what solace she hoped they might offer. Certainly, she spoke to them as if they did. “Three weeks after she had tended to my needs,” she murmured, “my mother died alone.”

Sophia grew very still, silenced, perhaps, by the weight of the memory bearing down on her.

Tobias sensed her helplessness and shared in it. He had no words. What was there he could say to undo such great sorrow?

But Sophia was not done. She looked at Tobias, her body sagging with a weariness and resignation that was half a lifetime in the making. Her voice was dull, all her energy and courage spent.

“Now, Mr. Mannerly, you will do me the courtesy of leaving my terrible secret behind when you go. I have told you so that you may understand. And if you are half the man that I believe you are, you would not shame me by repeating any of it.”

The very idea was repugnant to Tobias. “To break your trust thus would be unthinkable! I can only imagine the pain you have suffered to lose your mother at such a tender age, and to do so without a proper goodbye…”

Sophia’s face twisted into a scowl. “You think that is my greatest burden? Do you understand nothing? I killed her! In my selfishness, I made demands, and she died for it!” An edge of hysteria touched her speech.

“You were but a child!” Tobias exclaimed. “If your father had not kept you apart, I have no doubt she would have been by your side every day. The fever caused her death, Sophia, not you.”

“No! Do not try to make excuses for me. It was me, my illness, that ended her life. I would have recovered without her visit, and she would still be alive today.”

“You don’t know that. She may have suffered a different disease in a subsequent year. If the tables had been turned, and she had made you ill, would you have thrust such guilt upon her? Would you have wanted her to throw away her life and her chance at happiness because the fates had been unkind?”

“It wasn’t fate,” Sophia insisted. “There was nothing random about it. It was I, and I alone, who went against my father’s wishes and made demands because I was a coward. I robbed my father, sisters, brothers of a wife and mother.”

“A coward? You truly believe that? You think your mother did not desperately want to enter that room? She just needed an excuse. She would never, ever have let you die alone. Even if your father had been home, if she’d known you were close to death, not all the bars and bolts in the world could have locked her out of that room. Your father would not have stood a chance against a mother’s love.”

“But I wasn’t dying after all! I was just afraid.” She pressed her palms to her face, dragging them slowly down to her mouth, which opened to a shuddering breath. “If I had been braver, she would have stayed away, as my father wished.”

“Sophia.” Tobias softened his voice. “You were very ill. I suspect your mother knew that. That was why she came. Her comforting presence is what saved you. It gave you the will to fight. She knew the risk. She made the sacrifice willingly. It was her choice. You did nothing wrong.”

Sophia stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. “You think she knew?”

“I am certain of it.”

“She would have come anyway, even if I had said nothing?”

“If you were as ill as you say, I don’t doubt it for a second.”

“I… I…” She choked back the relief. “I am not wicked?”

“No, my darling, far from it.”

“I won’t hurt you too?” Her eyes were filled with a hopeful pleading.

Tobias smiled. “Oh, you will hurt me, in a human sort of way. But I will scold you a little and then forgive you.”

“You won’t…die?” Her words were barely audible, as if uttering them might make the threat more real.

“We all must die, dearest one. But you are no grim reaper. I am quite safe with you.” He gave a wry smile. “Of course, you do torture my poor heart most cruelly. Fortunately, there is an easy remedy for that.”

“What is it?” she asked shyly.

“Say yes .”

“Yes?”

“Yes. Yes to being my wife. Yes to living life more fully. Yes to everything that fear and guilt has robbed you of until now.”

“Oh.”

“Is that not what you want? Beneath all those layers of self-imposed blame, have you not desired the contentment of love well met?”

“Of course I have desired it. But I have never given myself permission to reach for it.”

“You will now, won’t you?” Tobias coaxed gently.

“I… I’m not… It will take time. I am not yet used to the idea that I may ask for such happiness.”

“Do you at least acknowledge now that you may?”

Sophia hesitated. Fifteen years of repression and denial would be hard to shake off. “I… I think so.”

“Say it. Say, ‘I deserve to be loved.’”

“I’m not sure…”

“Then let us make it a certainty. Say it, and believe it.”

“I…deserve…” Sophia swallowed, the effort of saying words she had so long rejected driving a flush into her cheeks.

“You can do it.”

“I deserve…to…be…loved.” She rushed the last word, then beamed at Tobias in triumph.

“Again.”

“I deserve to be loved.” Her smile broadened.

“Yes, dearest! How right you are!” Tobias clasped her hands in his and drew them to his lips.

Sophia did not resist.

Joy, oh, joy! To behold his beloved surfacing from the gloom of her past was enough to lift all the confusion and frustration Tobias had felt until now. He was but one word away from making her his wife, one word from becoming the happiest man alive. One little “yes” and they would be able to start their life together. So close.

And yet.

Sophia was fragile, teetering on the edge of a new dawn, her future suddenly thrown open before her. He must not push. Not now. All was new and brittle. He must not force the fledgling from its nest. If ever he was going to exercise wisdom and restraint, this was the most critical moment.

“Sophia,” he said, bringing her hands toward his heart.

“Hmm?” she murmured dreamily.

“Would you permit me to call upon you again? As often as you are comfortable. We can discuss your poetry. Or the weather. And, when you are ready, we might revisit our talk of the future. Our future.”

“Yes.” The corner of her mouth dimpled into a smile. “I would like that. To meet again, I mean.” Her eyes flicked away abruptly. “As for the rest, you must bear with me. I cannot yet grasp such big hopes.” There was a pause, and then her gaze lifted to his once more. “There is much for me to think about. It is strange to view my life, my past, through a different lens.”

Inside, Tobias’s heart did somersaults of excitement. On the surface, he took great pains to hold back. He pressed her hands to his lips once more, then returned them to her lap. “Whenever you are ready, I will be here.” Oh, how hard it was to resist her! To release her when he wished to pull her closer. To wait. To let her lead. His whole body vibrated internally with anticipation. When would she speak?

“Mondays.” Sophia gulped. “Papa is away every Monday.”

“I am not afraid to meet your father.”

“I am not ready.”

Tobias bit his lip. One thing at a time. He had promised.

“Very well,” he said, “Mondays it is. Together, we shall make new, happier memories for this day.”

Relief washed over Sophia’s entire being. “That would be welcome…Tobias.”

She blushed—not the mortified flush of embarrassment she had worn so often before, but the warm tinge of a woman touched unexpectedly by happiness and love.

The glow of it enveloped Tobias. Everything tingled and buzzed. He wanted to jump up and dance a jig, fling the door open, and shout to the world that he was the luckiest man alive.

Instead, he reached into his coat pocket and drew out a small book. “I have brought this volume of poetry by an outstanding poet of our time.” He passed the book to Sophia. “I was hoping she might sign it for me.”

Sophia sat up a little straighter and beckoned to Katie to bring her writing tray. “To whom shall I address it?” she asked with mock curiosity.

“I shall leave that for you to decide,” Tobias answered.

Sophia smiled broadly. She took up her quill at once and, having inked it, wrote with a careful hand while speaking the words aloud. “To dear Tobias.” She paused, turned a charming shade of pink, and continued, “…my beloved.” Scribble, scribble. “The author of my happiness.”

She signed it with a flourish, blotted it with care, then passed the book back to Tobias, their fingers brushing and lingering for a long moment.

Tobias cleared his throat. “Actually, there is a passage you wrote…” He paged through the book to find it. “Ah, here it is. I was hoping you could elucidate your choice of metaphor in this stanza.”

“Let me see,” said Sophia, reaching for the small volume once more.

Instead, Tobias closed the book with his finger as place-keeper, took hold of the armrest of his chair, and turned it about so that he was no longer facing Sophia, but almost side by side with her. He opened to the page and leaned in so that they might read the contents together.

Sophia tilted her head down, her hair falling forward and obscuring her face. Tenderly, Tobias caught her curls with his fingertips and drew them back, his touch tracing a line of electric pleasure across her cheek. The heat rushed to her exposed neck. Her scent permeated his giddy mind.

She leaned her cheek against the back of his fingers and closed her eyes. One slow breath and she had opened her lips to his hand. Her warm, moist breath roused his desire to a furnace. Tobias could be cautious no more. In a moment, his mouth was upon hers, his hands seeking her waist, pulling her in, closing the space between them. He felt her body stiffen, then relax, as she answered his yearning with her own.

The ink tray hit the floor with a thud and clatter. They jumped back in shock. Katie sprang up to clear the mess.

Katie. Tobias had quite forgotten about her.

“Oh, dear,” said Sophia, clearly trying to regain her composure, “we have made quite a mess. I’m sorry, Katie.”

Katie grinned. “That’s all right, miss. I’ll have it cleaned up in no time.” She looked away as her grin widened. “I’ll have to fetch some warm water and a cloth to remove the ink from the carpet. I will be away a few minutes—if that’s all right with you, miss?”

A coy smile told him it was perfectly all right with Sophia. As the door closed behind the still-smiling maid, Tobias scooped his beloved up in his arms once more. Until a firm knock should draw them reluctantly apart, he would show her that it was more than all right with him too.