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She knew it as well because for the briefest moment he felt all of her hopelessness before she masked that too.
‘Of course it will be all right.’ Too soon she stiffened in his arms as he felt the effort it took to bottle all her feelings ruthlessly back inside. ‘Of course it will.’
She stood as an excuse to sever the contact and fussed over the blankets again to avoid revealing the acute distress she was in. ‘Wallowing in a pit of self-pity is never the answer, is it? Onwards and upwards is.’ Then she snatched up the water jug on her aunt’s bedside. ‘This has been sat here for hours and must be stale by now.’ She hugged it tight to her middle as she scurried to the door, intent on keeping herself busy in case standing still crushed the remnants of her spirit. ‘She’ll want fresh when she awakes. Or more likely tea.’ The stoic smile quivered until she mustered the strength from her bottomless well within to nail it in place. ‘According to Aunt Jemima, a nice cup of tea solves everything.’ And with that she fled.
As she had said, there wasn’t much left of Willow Cottage. Apart from two jagged remnants of the back wall which jutted from the smoking debris like broken teeth, all that remained was soot and rubble. Rubble that had already been sifted through by Ned Parker who had pipped Rafe at the post and thoroughly done all of the practical and achievable good deeds he had wanted to do personally for Sophie in her hour of need.
However, rather than be grateful that the enormous and gratingly handsome young farmer had saved him the job, he found himself irrationally jealous of the fellow instead—despite the fact Rafe owed him his life. And despite the fact he had no earthly reason to be jealous, absolutely did not want to be nor fully understood exactly why he was. It was most unlike him.
‘I couldn’t let Sophie do this.’ The mighty oak cleaned the charred cover of a book on his trousers before he tossed it into the cart with the few other paltry belongings he had managed to rescue while Rafe had been sleeping off the laudanum. ‘And knowing her, she’d have found her way here some time today to rifle through the rubble. What a dreadful business this is.’
‘But thankfully, nobody died.’ Yet. Though that might well change at any moment. ‘I am indebted to you, sir, for saving my life.’
Two massive and perfectly working shoulders shrugged in dismissal. ‘After you saved both Misses Gilbert, it seemed churlish to leave you in the flames—as much as I was sorely tempted too.’ Ned folded his arms, no doubt hoping his bulging biceps would intimidate the enemy. ‘How’s Sophie bearing up? That woman is as stubbornly proud as anyone I’ve ever encountered. I suppose she’s putting a brave face on it all?’
The tree clearly knew her well. Perhaps cared for her deeply. Both things chaffed.
‘She is. Hasn’t stopped or slept a wink since last night despite Dr Able putting several fleas in her ear about the need to rest herself. I left her sat with her aunt.’ And with the overwhelming desire to slay dragons for her. ‘Although I suppose it is understandable that she would want to be by her side.’
Ned’s face clouded. ‘The good doctor doesn’t hold out much hope for Miss Gilbert.’ He shook his shaggy head as if he still couldn’t quite believe what had happened despite being stood in the centre of it. ‘Poor Sophie. She’s devoted to her aunt. I can’t imagine what she is going through. When I finally got home, I couldn’t sleep a wink for worrying about her. Figured long before the sun came up that I might as well channel all that worry into doing something useful by saving what I could.’ They both stared at the blackened imprint that had once been her cottage. ‘As you can see, not much is salvageable. A few trinkets and knick-knacks, most fit for nothing but the ash tip, but they might bring her some comfort. Once the roof gave way, what the flames didn’t destroy, the collapse did.’ He kicked the piece of charcoal near his giant foot, the blackened carvings etched into it marking it as once part of a piece of furniture. ‘They’re only things, I suppose. Nothing living to mourn yet I dare say she’ll mourn them keenly.’
‘At least her cat survived.’ And at least that was something he could do for her. ‘My brother and I are going to try to find it.’
So far mute and wide-eyed next to him as he tried to comprehend the scene, Archie nodded. ‘Socrates hasn’t had any breakfast.’
‘Oh, yes, he has.’ Ned held out his arm and pulled up his sleeve to reveal it was peppered with deep scratches. ‘Spiteful thing bit a chunk out of me when I finally caught him. I had to wrestle him into that basket, and it was a struggle, I don’t mind admitting. What possessed Sophie to take in a feral cat is beyond me when I warned her not to.’ He hoisted the hissing basket out of the cart and handed it to Archie. ‘I’ll leave you the pleasure of delivering the vicious beastie to his mistress, young man. Just make sure all the doors and windows are closed before you release him, as old Socrates is in a worse mood than he usually is and there’s no telling how he’ll react to a strange house or the strangers within it unless he’s contained.’
Then Ned beckoned over one of the grooms Rafe had brought with him as he began to unhitch his cart from his horse. ‘And if you don’t mind, my lord, I shall entrust you with delivering these things back to her.’
‘You rescued it all, therefore it should be you who takes it to her and receives all the credit.’ Sometimes Rafe loathed his noble streak and ingrained sense of fair play.
Ned waved that away. ‘I shall stop by later once I’ve been to the village. I’ve set the ladies the task of procuring some essentials—clothes and unmentionables and the like. As close as I am to Sophie, I have no clue what feminine necessities her and her poor aunt will need.’
As close as I am to Sophie... Was that a polite, territorial warning? ‘That is very thoughtful of you, Mr Parker, and please, feel free to call whenever. She needs her friends now more than ever, not that she would admit it. Or are you and she more than friends?’ Why the blazes had he asked that? Annoyed at himself for caring when he had long ago sworn off such nonsense regarding women, Rafe aimed for nonchalance. ‘I am too new to know the local gossip.’
The tree hooked his fingers in his belt. ‘There aren’t many people whose company I can tolerate for long, but Sophie is one of them.’
A cryptic answer which left him completely in the dark, and apparently the only one the gruff farmer was prepared to offer as he led his horse away to tie it to a tree. Then, using just his own brute strength, Ned manoeuvred his enormous cart around to attach it to one of Hockley Hall’s horses.
Rafe suppressed the urge to ask for further clarification on the particulars of their relationship and instead tried to seek some to the other burning questions he had about his vexing new houseguest. ‘Dr Able said that Sophie’s aunt is her only family.’
Ned nodded, anger replacing his reticence. ‘The only one she speaks to, at any rate. She’s estranged from her father.’
‘Her father is still alive?’
‘Last I heard he was—but I know better than to enquire about him from her. Mention anything to do with her past and she gets a tart look about her before she changes the subject. Woe betide any fool who presses her further as she has a temper on her.’ Ned pulled a face which said that he too found the witch a bit too formidable at times. ‘All I know is her old man lives in the city somewhere. Some sort of merchant, Mrs Fitzherbert told me as she knew him man and boy and long before my time. Oriental silks and spices, I believe. Used to come here once in a blue moon to visit his sister when I was younger, all puffed up with his own importance in his fancy carriage, but stopped after Sophie moved in with her. The money he sent the poor old dear stopped too—or so I reckon—around the same time, though I can’t confirm it. The Misses Gilbert would rather suffer in silence than admit they were struggling, and Sophie would rather starve than accept any charity—even from me—but I know the last two years especially have been particularly tough for them.’
‘Her father provides no financial support whatsoever?’ Such an abdication of family responsibility it beggared belief and wasn’t how Rafe had been raised. By his father at least. His mother had no sense of responsibility whatsoever but had been out of his life for so long he preferred not to spoil his mood by thinking of her.
‘How that bastard sleeps at night when he’s abandoned two of his womenfolk to poverty is a mystery to me—but then some people have no conscience, do they?’ He jabbed a meaty finger at the smouldering debris. ‘Your cursed cousin certainly didn’t, and now poor Sophie is homeless as a result. It’s a good job that bastard is dead as I’d have strangled him myself last night for his part in this.’
The venom in that accusation took Rafe back. ‘His part?’ His mystery second cousin had been dead for months, so could hardly be blamed for what happened last night.
‘Sophie’s been begging the bastard for years to fix the chimney. Damn thing was a death trap. An accident waiting to happen and she knew it. The pair of them had to freeze to death in winter because they couldn’t risk keeping the fires burning overnight unattended. But that old miser was too tight to even repair let alone rebuild it as it needed, but still had the cheek to raise their rent every year when he knew they were struggling. Makes my blood boil.’
It was making Rafe’s boil too. ‘I never knew that her cottage was dangerous.’
‘Never took the time to find out either, did you, in your hurry to be shot of us all.’
‘I... I...’ Clearly some of the blame for the fire rested on Rafe’s shoulders now too and the bile rose in his throat at the realisation. ‘If I had known...’
Ned stayed him with a raised palm, and an unexpected expression of sympathy. ‘You didn’t know, and to be fair to you, I have a feeling you would have done something about it if you had. I might not like what you’re planning as my loyalty lies with the village, I’ll make no bones about that, but I know a decent man when I see one and...’ His eyes flicked to Archie who was peering through the wicker basket, trying to calm the obviously furious and bucking Socrates inside with some soothing words. ‘We all have our own responsibilities, Lord Hockley, and must do what we think is best for the ones we love. Besides, I am indebted to you for saving one of my favourite people last night so that makes you all right in my book.’ The bigger man slapped Rafe on his good shoulder with such force he felt it in his knees. ‘Tell Sophie I shall stop by later. And tell the stubborn wench that if she doesn’t take some time to rest in the meantime, to expect me to put a bigger flea in her ear than Dr Able.’
