Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

“Icouldn’t believe it when I saw the two of you dancing, Sophia,” Penelope said when they met on the stairs the next morning before breakfast.

The dancing had gone on until well after midnight – the guests making up for their small number by the exuberance with which they took to the dancing. Sophia had avoided dancing with Henry for the rest of the night, having always found Jasper the first to offer his hand when the next dance was called. By the end of the night, Henry had given up trying, and Sophia had gone to bed knowing the seed of suspicion was planted in the minds of everyone gathered for the house party.

“The lines, dear, they never lie,” Helen had said, whispering to Sophia as she had left the drawing room to go to bed.

But Sophia knew differently. The matter was less about fortune than self-creation, and so far, the plan she had hatched with Jasper was proceeding as she desired. He would gain the furtherance of respectability for his business dealings, she would gain the time necessary to find a man who was not the Viscount Loweshire.

“Why not? Doesn’t your brother normally dance?” Sophia asked, and Penelope shook her head.

“He does, yes, but… it was more the look on his face. He seemed to be… enjoying himself,” Penelope said, shaking her head, as though such an occurrence was unheard of.

“Well… is that such a strange occurrence?” Sophia asked, though given what she had already observed of the Duke, she could only presume it was.

Penelope smiled. “Well, it’s not a regular occurrence, no. He has so much on his mind at the moment… but it’s rare that I’ve seen him smile so… readily,” she said, and Sophia blushed.

She did not know what to say. She could not very well tell Penelope it was all an act. But she was glad even the Duke’s own sister had been fooled. If Penelope thought Jasper was interested in pursuing Sophia, then it would surely not be difficult to convince the rest of the house party either.

“I’m glad,” Sophia replied as they made their way down to breakfast.

It was to be a leisurely affair, served late in the morning, but as they entered the dining room, it seemed the rest of the party was already assembled.

“Ah, here they are – we were just finishing up the arrangements for the rest of the day,” the Dowager Duchess said, smiling at Sophia and Penelope, who now sat down next to one another.

Jasper glanced across the table at Sophia and smiled. She blushed – but not as part of her act – even as Henry glared at her from next to Ethan, the two of them helping themselves from tureens on the sideboard.

“And what are the arrangements, Mother?” Penelope asked as one of the footmen poured her a cup of coffee.

“A watercolor outing,” the Dowager Duchess said, clapping her hands together in delight.

Sophia smiled. She liked painting, as did her mother. It was a passion they shared, and one her mother shared with the Dowager Duchess, the two of them often setting out together on outings into the countryside, where they would sit for hours, painting vistas of the landscapes, capturing the changing seasons, or the weather. More than once, they had returned soaked to the skin, laughing with one another at their having sat painting in the rain, just to capture something of a dramatic sky or cloud formation.

“One suffers for one’s art,” her mother had once said, and the house, filled with examples of her watercolors, was a testament to her passion.

Sophia had inherited a healthy enjoyment of painting, though she was no expert either. Her paintings were reasonable, though there was considerable room for improvement, and the thought of an outing with the rest of the party pleased her. It was a beautiful day – bright and sunny – and it was proposed they make a journey of two or so miles up the valley and through some woods to a view point offering dramatic views over the surrounding countryside.

“Isn’t it exciting?” Penelope said after they had finished their breakfast and gathered in the hallway.

As with any house party, the guests had arrived with an assortment of clothes for various occasions. Sir Arthur, who owned large tracts of land in the Scottish highlands, and was entitled to call himself a laird in those parts, was dressed for the grouse moor, in tweed and a flat black bonnet, with long socks over his breeches, whilst Lord and Lady Frighton, who spent most of their time in London and Bath, looked more ready for a genteel picnic in a park than a journey through the countryside. Jasper and Peter had not bothered to change, but Henry was wearing breeches and an open shirt, whilst Ethan had changed into some new clothes bought especially for the potential of the outdoors and looked quite ridiculous in a stalking cap and large blue overcoat.

“Are you ready?” Penelope’s mother asked, and Sophia and Penelope nodded.

They were wearing sensible dresses and matching yellow bonnets, with shawls wrapped around their shoulders in case of a chill. Both had brought parasols with them, along with easels and paints, now to be loaded onto the open-top cart that was to take them up the valley. It was a rough road, according to Jasper, and the final mile or so would be undertaken on foot.

“We won’t be joining you – the valley has a strange energy to it. The rocks, you see,” Helen said, glancing at her sister, who nodded.

“Oh, yes, one has to be so careful with the energy. The wrong sort can be fatal,” Nora said, and Sophia smiled, trying hard not to laugh.

There was such sincerity about the two Batley sisters, and Sophia could only assume they really believed what they were saying.

“Come along, everyone,” Jasper said, and the party made its way outside into the sunshine.

“Here, let me help you, Sophia,” Henry said, but Sophia shook her head.

“I can manage, thank you,” she said, but when Jasper offered her his hand, she took it, allowing him to help her up into the cart, much to Henry’s obvious annoyance.

It was a tight fit, and Jasper now climbed in next to Sophia, their legs touching as he squeezed himself in between her and Penelope.

“Drive on, please,” he called out, and the farm hand, who had been instructed to take them up the valley, led off the horse – a great giant of an animal, a shire horse, whose hooves clip-clopped down the road before the cart turned up a bridleway leading into the valley.

Everywhere was lush and green, and the thought of spending the day amidst its pleasant surroundings, painting what she saw, was a delight to Sophia.

“Do you paint?” she asked, turning towards the Duke, who shook his head.

“No, I don’t. But I admire those who do. It’s Penelope who inherited our mother’s talent. I’ve tried, but the colors always run, and… well, it never really looks like it’s supposed to,” he said, shaking his head and laughing.

Sophia glanced at Penelope, who again appeared taken aback by the apparent ease with which her brother was speaking.

“You’ll have to practice,” Sophia said, and the Duke shrugged.

“I think my talents probably lie elsewhere. But I’ll try, if you insist,” he replied.

The cart jolted suddenly, its wheels caught in a rut, and Sophia lurched forward into Jasper’s lap, letting out a cry as she did so.

“Sorry about that, this bridleway doesn’t get much use,” the farm hand called back as the others righted themselves.

Sophia sat up, straightening her bonnet and looking embarrassed as Jasper laughed.

“Steady on,” he said, and Sophia blushed.

“Forgive me,” she said, glancing across at Henry, who was glaring at her.

But Sophia had already reminded herself she owed the Viscount nothing. There had been no formal proposal – only unwanted attention. She had never promised him anything, and whilst, after their first meeting, she might have been guilty of politeness, leading to false hope, she had never once given him reason to believe she had any thoughts of pursuing the matter of a courtship further. There was no scandal in what she was doing, and she was resolved to carry out her ruse with Jasper, knowing it was to both their benefits.

“It’s all part of the fun of these expeditions,” the Dowager Duchess called out, and the party endured several further bumps and jolts before finally coming to a halt at a point where the bridleway narrowed and the horse and cart could go no further.

Trees grew steeply on both sides, and a gushing stream ran on one side, below a stone bridge, redolent of a fairytale – humpbacked and narrow. Jasper climbed down from the cart, holding out his hand to help the ladies, before Henry – or Ethan – could do the same. Sophia thanked him as she climbed down, excited at the prospect of sharing this adventure together. Peter had already gone ahead, and now he beckoned the party to follow him up a steep path through the trees.

“It’s about a mile or so from here, and well worth the climb,” he said.

Jasper offered Sophia his arm, and she took it, smiling at him as they walked up the path together. The party now spread out, with Henry and the Dowager Duchess bringing up the rear, and Peter at the front. Lord and Lady Frighton were huffing and puffing, but Sir Arthur was in his element, pointing out the different trees and recalling his stalking adventures on his Scottish estate.

“We followed a stag through the country like this for three days once,” he said.

“But weren’t you tired?” Lady Frighton asked, pausing to take out her handkerchief and mop her brow.

“Not at all. Once you’ve got the scent, you don’t lose it,” Sir Arthur replied.

Sophia, too, was getting tired. The path led up steeply through the trees, and her breathing was growing heavy, even as Jasper encouraged her.

“We’re nearly there, and at least you’re not carrying your own easel,” he said.

That much was true, the task assigned to two young footmen, who seemed to climb up the path effortlessly, carrying the easels and paints along with them. Another carried a large picnic basket on his back, and just as Sophia thought she could not go any further, they came upon a magnificent view across the surrounding countryside.

“How beautiful!” Sophia exclaimed, and Jasper smiled at her.

“Now you’ve just got to paint it,” he said.

The easels were set up, and each member of the party who desired to paint chose a vantage point.

“Come next to me, Sophia, we can compare,” Penelope said, choosing a spot to the side of the vista, where the view encompassed the silvery line of the stream below and a gushing waterfall nearby.

A footman set up the easel for her, and Sophia was soon wetting her paints, before sketching out a rough outline of the landscape. As she worked, she became aware she was the subject of another’s scrutiny, and turning around, she found the Duke sitting on a rock, watching her.

“Aren’t you going to paint?” she asked, and the Duke smiled.

“I don’t really feel like doing so. Besides, it’s more pleasant to watch,” he said, and Sophia blushed.

She did not know if he meant the painting or her. He was certainly taking the act of attentiveness seriously, and to any observer – his sister included – there was no doubting the sincerity of his interest in her.

“Well… I’m sure it’s not really very interesting,” she said, though her words did not appear to dissuade him.

Sophia wanted to paint the stream and the waterfall, but she was having trouble mixing the paints into the right colors. She had seen an example of such a painting in her mother’s collection, the stream appearing almost alive with the brushstrokes. But her own attempts were proving less than satisfactory. Penelope, on the other hand, was having considerable success, and had already sketched out the valley and was adding color to the trees, with all their varying shades of green.

“You are good, Penelope. Mine just doesn’t look right,” Sophia said, sighing as she gazed at the canvas in front of her.

“I think it looks very good,” Jasper said, rising to his feet and peering over her shoulder.

His closeness caused her heart to skip a beat, and she moved slightly on her stool, his hand now placed gently on her shoulder.

“I can’t seem to get the movement right – of the water, I mean,” she said, and to her surprise, he took hold of her hand, guiding the brush strokes as together they painted the waterfall.

Sophia could only imagine what it looked like to those around them, and she smiled, glad to think how readily he was playing the part, even though his enthusiasm seemed more than necessary for what she had asked of him.

“Is that better?” he asked, still with his hand guiding hers.

The water did look as though it was moving, and Sophia nodded, grateful for his help.

“Yes… it does,” she said, and he was about to reply when the voice of Ethan sounded behind them.

“Your Grace, might I… some business to discuss,” he said, and Jasper grimaced.

“Can’t it wait? Aren’t we to leave such things behind us here,” he said, straightening up as Ethan came to Sophia’s side.

“Oh, well, I thought… perhaps it was a good time. I was thinking, the matter of exports… brandy and…” he began, but Jasper shook his head.

“I don’t want to talk about it now. It’s all nonsense. Exporting brandy to the French?” he said, shaking his head.

Ethan looked somewhat perturbed, and a look of embarrassment came over his face. “Ah, well… but together…” he stammered.

The Duke had adopted that same look he had given Sophia at the moment of their introduction, and Sophia wondered if it was not the result of a well-practiced disdain. Now, he glared at Ethan, who continued to stammer, having clearly not thought through what he wanted to say.

“Don’t you think I’ve already had enough risks taken on my behalf? If I’m to make any sort of investment in the future, I’ll do so on my own terms, and no one else’s, do you understand?” he said, and Ethan nodded.

“Certainly, Your Grace. Forgive me, what was I thinking?” Ethan replied, and giving a foolish bow, he turned on his heels and hurried back to where he had been sitting with Lord and Lady Frighton.

“That wasn’t very nice, Jasper,” Penelope said, but Sophia could not help but smile.

Ethan deserved it. He was such a snob, always lauding it over Sophia, and now he was having a taste of his own medicine. He was the underdog, no longer so sure of himself as before, and put in his place by Jasper, who had clearly seen through his pomposity and posturing.

“The man’s a fool. Forgive me, Sophia, but it’s true,” Jasper said.

But Sophia was not about to disagree, and glancing across at her cousin, she found him licking his wounds, trying to engage the Dowager Duchess in conversation, as though in a vain attempt at reasserting himself.

It amused Sophia to see it – her cousin was no one, and it was only through the accident of birth he had become something at all. She returned to her watercolor, aware of Jasper still standing behind her. His hand had guided her artistic endeavor, and now she added her own brush strokes, glancing at Penelope’s canvas, her friend showing eminently more talent than her.

“I don’t disagree… oh, Penelope, what a beautiful picture you’re painting. My own pales in comparison,” Sophia said, but Penelope shook her head.

“Yours is lovely, Sophia – you take after your mother. And I hope I take after mine, too,” she said, adding another brush stroke.

The party of guests continued in this manner for some time, and Sophia was so focused on her canvas that she did not notice the lavish picnic being laid out on a large, flat rock behind them.

“Come and have luncheon, everyone,” the Dowager Duchess said, after several pleasant hours had passed.

The sun was warm, a gentle breeze was blowing, and Sophia could not have felt happier – much to her surprise. She had expected to dislike every aspect of the house party – despite having agreed to attend – but she was rather enjoying the ruse she and Jasper were playing, and the feeling of being in control of her own destiny, albeit for a short time, was a novel one.

“Oh, I didn’t notice the time passing. Is it luncheon already?” she asked, rising from her easel.

The painting was nearly finished, and thanks to Jasper’s alterations, Sophia was actually rather pleased with it. Henry now motioned for her to sit next to him by the flat rock, now covered in all manner of delicious things to eat – a raised pie, a side of Stilton, cold meats, bread, and two large fruit tarts, their tops glazed with a sheen of jam. There was ginger beer and apple juice to drink, along with wine and port to accompany the Stilton.

It was a veritable feast, one Sophia did not wish to share with Henry. The rock was even covered with a fair cloth, and a set of ornate cutlery had been brought, along with elegant china, and even a candelabra for effect – the footmen having failed to light the candles in the breeze.

“I’ll sit over here. There’s a little shade from this oak tree,” Sophia said, taking a place next to Jasper on the other side of the rock.

Henry glared at her.

“It’s so nice to see young people getting along so well,” Lady Frighton said, oblivious, it seemed, to the bad blood passing across the luncheon plates.

“It certainly is,” Peter said, raising his eyebrows.

Jasper glared at him.

“Well, has everyone had a productive morning? We must show one another our canvases,” the Dowager Duchess said.

Lady Frighton sighed. “I just can’t get my view right, Emily. I’ve started again half a dozen times. I think, perhaps, I’m losing my touch,” she said.

“Oh, don’t say such things. Your pictures are always so pretty, Loretta,” the Dowager Duchess said, shaking her head and tutting.

Jasper reached across the rock for a piece of pie, just as Henry did. Their hands touched on the plate, and Sophia watched as they fixed their gaze on one another, glaring as they did so.

“After you, Cousin,” Jasper said, relinquishing his hold on the plate.

“No, Cousin, I insist, after you,” Henry replied.

It was as though the plate represented Sophia, and despite knowing it was all a ruse, Sophia could not help but feel Jasper was playing his role admirably. Henry was jealous. She could see it in his eyes, and despite feeling a modicum of guilt, she reminded herself it was all for a greater cause. Jasper took the piece of pie, and Henry made do with attacking the Stilton.

“A delicious luncheon,” Ethan said, helping himself to a thick slice of bread.

“Don’t you feed him?” Jasper whispered, though just loud enough for Ethan to hear.

Ethan blushed, hastily cutting the slice in half and returning the large piece to the breadboard. Penelope glared at Jasper, oblivious to the reason for his insults. Sophia suppressed a smile. She enjoyed seeing her cousin on the opposing side, no longer the one lauding it over others, but realizing his place – in the pecking order of the aristocracy, he was really no one at all.

“Not enough, it seems,” Sophia replied, helping herself to a slice of fruit tart, offered to her by one of the footmen.

It was a delicious luncheon, and as the meal progressed, Sophia found herself delighting in the Duke’s company. He was playing his part admirably, and it was clear that Lady Frighton was convinced.

“Do the two of you plan to go up to London for the rest of the Season? Chaperoned, of course,” she asked.

Sophia glanced at Jasper, uncertain of what to say. She had really given no thought at all as to what would happen when the house party came to an end. For the ruse to continue, she and Jasper would have to keep up a pretense, and that would mean attending balls and soirees, the theater, picnics, promenades…

“Absolutely. I’m hoping to see some performances at Covent Garden over the coming weeks – A Midsummer Night’s Dream is being performed,” Jasper said.

Penelope raised her eyebrows. “You always say you don’t want to go to the theater,” she said, sounding indignant.

Jasper shrugged. “Can’t a man change his mind?” he asked.

Penelope looked slightly hurt, but she made no further comment, and with only a slice of fruit tart and a few crumbs of Stilton remaining, the picnic was over. But as Sophia returned to her easel, she could not help but think Jasper was genuine in his desire for those things he had spoken of – for the Season to continue in London. She was grateful, of course, but it seemed their ruse was now taking on a character all of its own and growing out of proportion.

“That’s very nice,” Penelope said when Sophia had finished her painting.

Sophia did not think it was very nice – the waterfall was out of proportion with the stream, and the sky was nothing like the shades of color before them. But her thoughts had been distracted, and now she glanced over her shoulder, finding Jasper and Peter deep in whispered conversation, glancing at her as they spoke.

“Yes…” she said, not even thinking to offer a similar compliment to Penelope, whose own attempt at painting was significantly better than her own.

The other guests – those who had chosen to paint – were now packing up their easels, and the footmen were hurrying around, clearing away the picnic and getting ready for the walk back down the hill through the trees.

Sophia was curious to know what Jasper and Peter were talking about, but she contented herself with knowing the picnic had given fresh evidence as to the apparent affection between her and the Duke. Henry had seen it for himself, but as for what happened next, the question remained to be answered…