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‘But all that is by the by,’ said Mrs Fitzherbert with an imperious flick of the wrist. ‘It is Sophie’s dilemma we must address, for she is the one at war with her desires. Tell us about Michael. Was he a good man?’
The abrupt change of topic and unfeeling criticism made her stiffen. ‘The best.’ Or one of them. Rafe certainly measured up in that.
‘Was he generous in nature and kind of heart?’
Sophie nodded. ‘He was wonderful in every way.’
‘How lucky of you to have found a saint for they are thin on the ground.’ Mrs Fitzherbert’s comment made her bristle as it echoed Rafe’s too much for comfort. ‘But he had character too, didn’t he? As a maddening, stubborn and opinionated woman like yourself would soon tire of a doormat.’
Smiling for the first time in a decade at the memory of the man who had been taken too soon, Sophie nodded again. ‘He was his own man.’
And he had been. Determined. Tenacious. So full of life nothing got him down for long. Not even her father’s cruel treatment, the loss of his livelihood and his prospects dampened the fire that burned in his belly. ‘Damn them all to hell,’ he had said as he had left Cheapside with his head held high. ‘It makes no difference,’ he had assured her as he had kissed her goodbye that dreadful day. ‘I am not giving you up, Sophie Gilbert, not for all the tea in China.’
And he hadn’t. For two years he had moved heaven and earth to be with her and their love affair had continued undaunted. Unhindered by the many barricades fate and her father had thrown in their path. They had loved, laughed and made plans with impunity. Plans they would have carried out if fate hadn’t intervened. Onwards and upwards had been his motto. Onwards and upwards and to hell with the lot of them.
‘But he drove you to distraction too, didn’t he? I’ll bet you fought like cat and dog. Locked horns with the same frequency as you locked lips.’
Mrs Fitzherbert had that right too. She and Michael had both been leaders. Both had a stubborn streak a mile wide. She had forgotten about all the petty things they had argued about. As she felt herself frowning, the old lady cackled again. ‘But it was fun making it up, wasn’t it? For those flaws are what makes us human and when we love with all our hearts we embrace them as fully as we cherish the good. Did he love you, young lady?’
‘To distraction.’ Her tenacity and stubbornness always amused Michael. Her passion delighted him and her dreams inspired him as much as his inspired her. ‘He loved me with every fibre of his being.’
‘And what would he say if he could see you now?’ Two wily old eyes bored into hers. ‘Is this the life he would have wanted you to live? And if the tables had been turned, and you had been the one who had died and left him to face the future all alone, is this the lonely, directionless and purposeless future you would have wanted for a man you loved with all of your heart?’
The wind knocked out of her sails, Sophie gaped as she struggled to formulate an answer. Pride, guilt and stubbornness made her want to nod and kill this painful conversation stone dead, yet she couldn’t. Because she knew she would have been furious at Michael if he had stood still when he deserved everything. Everything and more. And he would have owed it to the both of them to do it.
‘Mrs Fitzherbert.’ The maid poked her head into the parlour. ‘You have a caller.’
Sophie did not realise how much she wanted it to be Rafe until Ned strode in, closely followed by a dripping Archie and an equally soggy Fred.
‘Where is your brother?’ Aunt Jemima asked the question she couldn’t.
‘Packing. Sulking.’ By the defiant jut of his jaw, the youngest and the eldest Peel had had words. ‘But I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye no matter what Rafe says, so I crept away and I do not care if it makes him angry.’
‘Goodbye? Now?’ The whooshing in her head made her dizzy. ‘But what about tomorrow. The buyers? The sale.’
‘Mr Spiggot is going to show them all around and sell the mossy-leem because Rafe says he’s done with all of it. We are leaving this morning but...’ Archie rifled in his pocket and pulled out a sodden piece of paper which he handed to her. On it was his scruffy handwriting. ‘I wanted you to have our address in Cheapside so you can come and visit if you want.’ The tragic hope in his bright blue eyes tore her to ribbons. ‘And I shall write to you every day to tell you what we are doing and let you know the new address once we’ve bought our new farm so you can visit that too.’ He launched himself at her and squeezed her tight. ‘You will visit, won’t you, Sophie? I couldn’t bear it if I never see you again.’
Tears pooled in her eyes as they locked with Aunt Jemima’s and her aunt shrugged. ‘You are doomed to grieve him whether he leaves or dies, Sophie dearest. Either way will feel like the end of the world.’
Rafe fastened his satchel to Atlas with a decisive tug then hollered for his brother. ‘Archie! We’re going!’ He did not care that his sibling had been inconsolable since last night when he had informed him they were off or that he, himself, had been unbearable all week until he had come to that inescapable conclusion. Nor did he care that the freezing rain was pelting down with a ferocity which guaranteed the two-hour ride would take twice as long because the roads would be a quagmire. All he cared about was putting as much distance between him and this cursed place as soon as possible. He could not face her tomorrow and pretend to be reasonable and calm on the back of her cutting rejection. And it had cut him. Deeper and wider than any rejection ever had in the past because she had mattered so much.
Yet now, in the grand scheme of people who had disappointed him, she was the biggest disappointment of them all.
Blasted witch!Oh, how he wished he had never met her. Never set foot in this godforsaken village at all when he could have sold it sight unseen and conscience unbothered from the comfort of the city.
‘Archie! Get yourself down here now!’ If he had to drag his brother kicking and screaming downstairs and strap him onto Alan like a blasted saddlebag, they were leaving straight away. Right this minute. Nothing whatsoever would deter him from that. ‘Archie!’
‘He’s at Mrs Fitzherbert’s.’ He spun around to see a drowned rat. The most beautiful drowned rat that ever lived. Her dark hair hung in dripping strands that stuck to her cheeks. In the absence of a coat, her wool dress was plastered to her body. Water spiked her lashes as she shrugged. ‘Safe and sound. He told me you were leaving.’
Because looking at her was more agony he did not need, he turned to double-check his horse’s reins. ‘There is little incentive to stay.’
‘A wise man once told me that any decision taken in the heat of the moment should never be trusted because it is always wrong. Especially concerning matters of the heart.’
‘What do you want, Sophie?’ He would hand over the deeds to the whole estate if she asked him to, simply to get away from her right now.
‘You. Apparently. No matter how much I try to deny it.’
He stilled but did not turn around. Did not dare in case his addled mind was hearing wrong or misinterpreting her words to soothe his misery.
