The Grand Sophy Read online

  The startling proposition that a daughter should be encouraged to take note of her father’s faults so much horrified Lady Ombersley that she could think of nothing to say. Selina, who liked to get to the root of everything, asked why Sir Horace had particularly desired Sophy to go to Merton.

  ‘Only to take Sancia to her new home,’ Sophy explained. ‘That was why you saw me with those absurd outriders. Nothing will convince poor Sancia that English roads are not infested with bandits and guerilleros!’

  ‘But who is Sancia?’ demanded Lady Ombersley, in some bewilderment.

  ‘Oh, she is the Marquesa de Villacañas! Did Sir Horace not tell you her name? You will like her – indeed, you must like her! She is quite stupid, and dreadfully indolent, like all Spaniards, but so pretty and good-natured!’ She saw that her aunt was now wholly perplexed, and her straight, rather thick brows drew together. ‘You don’t know? He did not tell you? Now, how infamous of him! Sir Horace is going to marry Sancia.’

  ‘What?’ gasped Lady Ombersley.

  Sophy leaned forward to take her hand, and to press it coaxingly. ‘Yes, indeed he is, and you must be glad, if you please, because she will suit him very well. She is a widow, and extremely wealthy.’

  ‘A Spaniard!’ said Lady Ombersley. ‘He never breathed a word of this to me!’

  ‘Sir Horace says that explanations are so tedious,’ said Sophy excusingly. ‘I daresay he might have felt that it would take too long. Or,’ she added, a mischievous look in her eyes, ‘that I would do it for him!’

  ‘I never heard of such a thing!’ said Lady Ombersley, almost roused to wrath. ‘Just like Horace! And when, pray, my dear, does he mean to marry this Marquesa?’

  ‘Well,’ said Sophy seriously, ‘that, I fancy, is why he did not care to explain it all to you. Sir Horace cannot marry Sancia until I am off his hands. It is so awkward for him, poor dear! I have promised to do my best, but I cannot engage to marry anyone I don’t like! He understands my feelings perfectly: I will say this for Sir Horace, that he is never unreasonable!’

  Lady Ombersley was strongly of the opinion that these remarks were quite unsuited to her daughters’ ears, but she saw no way of stemming them. Selina, still delving to the roots, asked: ‘Why cannot your Papa be married until you are, Sophy?’

  ‘On account of Sancia,’ replied Sophy readily. ‘Sancia says she does not at all wish to be my stepmama.’

  Lady Ombersley was smitten to the heart. ‘My poor child!’ she said, laying a hand on Sophy’s knee. ‘You are so brave, but you may confide in me! She is jealous of you: I believe all Spaniards have the most shockingly jealous natures! It is too bad of Horace! If I had known this – ! Is she unkind, Sophy? Does she dislike you?’

  Sophy went off into a peal of laughter. ‘Oh, no, no, no! I am sure she never disliked anyone in all her life! The thing is that if she marries Sir Horace while I am still on his hands everyone will expect her to behave to me like a mama, and she is much too lazy! Then, too, with the best will in the world, I might continue to manage Sir Horace, and his house, and everything that I have been accustomed to do. We have talked it over, and I can’t but see that there is a great deal in what she says. But as for jealousy, no indeed! She is much too handsome to be jealous of me, and much too good-natured as well. She says that she has the greatest imaginable affection for me, but share a house with me she will not. I do not blame her: pray do not think I blame her!’

  ‘She sounds a very odd sort of a woman,’ said Lady Ombersley disapprovingly. ‘And why does she live in Merton?’

  ‘Oh, Sir Horace hired the prettiest villa for her there! She means to live retired until he comes back to England. That,’ said Sophy with a gurgle of mirth, ‘is because she is excessively idle. She will lie in bed until the morning is half gone, eat a great many sweetmeats, read a great many novels, and be perfectly pleased to see any of her friends who will give themselves the trouble of driving out to visit her. Sir Horace says she is the most restful female of his acquaintance.’ She bent, to stroke her little dog, which had all the time been sitting at her feet. ‘Except Tina here, of course! Dear ma’am, I hope you do not dislike dogs? She is very good, I promise you, and I could not part with her!’

  Lady Ombersley assured her that she had no objection to dogs, but was by no means partial to monkeys. Sophy laughed, and said: ‘Oh, dear! Was it wrong of me to bring him for the children? Only when I saw him, in Bristol, he seemed to me to be just the thing! And now that I have given him to them, I daresay it will be difficult to persuade them to give him up.’

  Lady Ombersley rather thought that it would be impossible, and as there did not seem to be anything more to be said on that subject, and she was feeling quite bemused by her niece’s various disclosures, she suggested that Cecilia should escort Sophy up to her room, where she would no doubt like to rest for a while before changing her dress for dinner.

  Cecilia rose with alacrity, ready to add her persuasions to her mother’s if it should be necessary. She did not suppose that Sophy wished to rest, for the little she had seen of her cousin had been enough to convince her that a creature so full of vitality rarely stood in need of rest. But she felt herself strongly drawn to Sophy, and was anxious to make a friend of her as soon as possible. So when it was discovered that Sophy’s maid was unpacking her trunks in her bedchamber, she begged Sophy to come to her own room for a chat. Selina, finding that she was not to be admitted to this tête-à-tête, pouted, but went off, deriving consolation from the reflection that to her would fall the agreeable task of describing to Miss Adderbury every detail of Sophy’s conversation in the Blue Saloon.

  Cecilia’s disposition was shy, and although her manners lacked the forbidding reserve which distinguished those of her elder brother they were never confiding. Yet within a very few minutes she found herself pouring into her cousin’s ears some at least of the evils of her situation. Sophy listened to her with interest and sympathy, but the constant recurrence of Mr Rivenhall’s name seemed to puzzle her, and she presently interrupted to say: ‘I beg your pardon, but this Charles – is he not your brother?’

  ‘My eldest brother,’ said Cecilia.

  ‘Well, that is what I collected. But what has he to say to anything?’

  Cecilia sighed. ‘You will soon discover, Sophy, that nothing may be done in this house without Charles’s sanction. It is he who orders everything, arranges everything, and rules everything!’

  ‘Now, let us understand this!’ said Sophy. ‘My uncle has not died, has he? I am sure Sir Horace never told me so!’

  ‘Oh, no! But Papa – I should not be talking about him, and of course I don’t know precisely – but I think poor Papa found himself in difficulties! In fact, I know it was so, for I found my mother in great distress once, and she told me a little, because she was so distracted she hardly knew what she was doing. In general, she would never say a word about Papa to any of us – except Charles, I suppose, and I daresay Maria, now that she is a married lady. Only then my great-uncle Matthew died, and he left all his fortune to Charles, and I don’t understand exactly how it was, but I believe Charles did something with mortgages. Whatever it was, it seems to have placed poor Papa quite in his power. And I am very certain that it is Charles who pays for Hubert and Theodore, besides settling all the debts, for that Mama did tell me.’

  ‘Dear me, how very uncomfortable it must be for your Papa!’ remarked Sophy. ‘My cousin Charles sounds a most disagreeable creature!’

  ‘He is quite odious!’ said Cecilia. ‘I sometimes think he takes a delight in making everyone miserable, for I am sure he grudges us the least pleasure, and is only anxious to marry us to respectable men with large fortunes, who are quite middle-aged, and sober, and can do nothing but catch the mumps!’

  Since Sophy was far too intelligent to suppose that this embittered speech was a mere generalization she at once pressed Cecilia to tell her more about the respectable man with mumps, and after a little hesitation, and a good deal of c