Page 23 of A Holiday By Gaslight

Ned’s brows lifted. “Dare I ask?”

They strolled side by side out of the yard and along the wide path that ran parallel to the woods bordering Appersett House. The ground was covered in a light dusting of new-fallen snow. It melted into slush beneath the worn soles of Sophie’s half boots.

“If you must know,” she said, “it was something about his being in trade.”

“Ah.” Ned’s deep voice was peculiarly neutral.

“I don’t share her opinions.”

“Your parents do.”

Sophie didn’t care for his blunt assertion, but she didn’t argue with it. He was right, after all. There was no good reason to deny it. “My parents aren’t unique among their class.”

“And yet they’ve pressed you to accept me, a man whose entire fortune is built on trade.” He looked at her. “Are you to be the sacrifice by which they maintain their place in society?”

She winced. “That’s rather harsh.”

“You said they used your dowry to have Appersett House fitted for gas.”

Heat rose up in her face. “So they did.”

“A singular decision.”

“Only if you don’t know my father.” Sophie folded her arms at her waist. “When I was a girl, no more than thirteen, some gentlemen from the railway company came to Milton St. Edmunds. They wanted to put a platform halt just outside the village. The villagers were against it. They couldn’t abide the thought of railway tracks cutting across the countryside. But Papa knew we must have that station. He felt so strongly about it and argued so persuasively that all the villagers soon came around to his way of thinking. It was progress, you see. Just like the gaslight. And Papa has always said one can’t stand in the way of progress.”

Ned appeared unmoved by her tale. “Progress is all well and good. But just what did your father expect you to do for a husband?”

“My parents expected both my sister and me to marry well. That’s why they brought us to London.”

“One of you with a dowry and the other without.”

She glanced at him as they walked, wondering what he was implying. “You make it sound as though a great injustice had been perpetrated against me.”

“Hasn’t there?”

“Not in the least. The plain fact is, I didn’t wish to marry when I was nineteen, nor when I was twenty, nor one-and-twenty. My dowry meant nothing to me and everything to my father. Why shouldn’t he have it if it would make him happy?”

“Did he ask you for it?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Before he took it and used it on Appersett House, did he ask you if he could have it?”

Sophie didn’t answer. Of course Papa hadn’t asked her permission. Why would he? “Must we speak of such things?”

“Not if you object.”

“I don’t object. But I don’t see how it will help us get to know each other any better. All it does is make me feel bad about myself.”

Ned frowned. “Forgive me. That wasn’t my intention.”

She shrugged a shoulder. It wasn’t a very ladylike gesture, but it was eloquent enough of her opinion on the matter. She didn’t wish to discuss her dowry anymore. Nor did she wish to discuss the dratted gaslight.

“What would you like to talk about?” he asked.

She raised her head to look at the trees. The branches were frosted with snow. It sparkled like sugar in the morning sunlight. “It’s beautiful when it’s new, isn’t it? So clean and white and perfect.”

“It’s certainly cleaner than it is in London.”