Sophie dressed very carefully, choosing to wear the simple black gown she had bought to mourn her mother. With her hair swept up and secured with her mother’s tortoiseshell combs and the plain silver band of her mother’s necklace about her neck, she looked pale but composed.
‘Don’t you worry, Miss Sophie,’ Hannah had said as she saw her charge take one final glance in the mirror. ‘Your ma’d be proud of you.’
It was a comforting thought and Sophie smiled at her gratefully. ‘Thank you, Hannah, I’ll remember that.’
Sophie went downstairs at the appointed time in some trepidation. She was not quite sure why she felt so nervous. She wanted to meet her cousin, Charles, after all, but from what she had heard he seemed to be rather a severe man, and she wondered if he would approve of her.
Not that it matters if he doesn’t, she thought. After all, I’m not going to be here long.
There was no one in the hall when Sophie descended the stairs, and she paused for a moment, uncertain where to go. Then she noticed that one of the panelled doors was slightly ajar and there was light within, so drawing a deep breath, she crossed the hall and pushed upon the door. Hesitating in the doorway, Sophie looked round her. The room she had entered was large and high-ceilinged, with heavy furniture and a well-worn Turkey carpet on the polished floor. There were several portraits on the wall in heavy gilt frames and the windows were curtained to the floor with faded velvet. Three oil lamps made warm pools of light, but the edges of the room receded into shadow.
If it weren’t for the fire crackling cheerfully in the grate, Sophie thought, it would be a very overbearing room.
To her surprise she found her grandfather already there, dressed for dinner and sitting in a chair beside the fire. She had not thought that he would leave his bed again that day. He looked up as she came in. ‘Ah, there you are,’ he said, as if they had all been waiting for her, though in fact there was no sign of Charles or Aunt Louisa yet. ‘Don’t stand in the doorway. Come and sit by the fire and talk to me.’
Sophie did as she was bid, settling herself on the plump tuffet he indicated at his side, and was thus in close conversation with him when Louisa came in. She too had changed her gown and after a long appraising glance at Sophie, she announced, ‘Dinner is ready, Father.’
‘Then Charles is late,’ he remarked.
‘I expect he’s gone to say goodnight to AliceAnne,’ Louisa replied wearily. She spoke, Sophie thought, as if she were tired of defending her son against his grandfather. But almost at once the door opened and Charles was on the threshold, apologizing for keeping them waiting. ‘I hadn’t realized you intended joining us for dinner, sir,’ he added. But his eyes were on Sophie, sweeping over her.
Almost, thought Sophie, disconcerted, as if I were a horse he considered buying. That’s the fourth time today I’ve been inspected to see if I pass muster and I’m getting tired of it. She raised her chin in a determined fashion, levelly returning his gaze.
‘Well, let’s not waste any more time now you do,’ the old man was grumbling. ‘Make your compliments to your cousin Sophia and then help me out of this chair.’
Sophie had risen at her cousin’s arrival and they met, hands extended in greeting. Despite his appraisal she smiled at him as she said, ‘I’m called Sophie, not Sophia. How do you do, Cousin Charles?’
He was not at all as she had imagined him. His dark hair was thick and slightly curling, and being of medium height, he did not tower over her as Dr Bryan had done, but he was broad-shouldered and strong and his grip was a firm one. Clear brown eyes met hers and a brief smile touched his lips as he heard her daring to correct her grandfather.
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, cousin,’ he said. ‘I trust that the journey from London wasn’t too tiring.’ Then without waiting for her answer, he dropped her hand and turning to the old man, assisted him to his feet. Once he was standing, however, Thomas Penvarrow brushed the helping hand away and offering his arm to his granddaughter, led her into the dining room. This was another gloomy room, panelled in dark wood and lit this time by two candelabra on the dining table and two sconces over the mantelpiece. Logs glowed in the fireplace, silver and glass glinted in the flickering light, and the table was covered with a gleaming white cloth, but the corners of the room still lurked in shadow, where neither candlelight nor firelight could reach.
Not a welcoming room, Sophie decided as she glanced round it, nor a warm one. She was glad when she was seated in the place nearest the fire.
‘You’ll find we’re very simple here, Sophie,’ Louisa said as they sat down. ‘Mrs Paxton brings in the dinner, but when we’ve all been served, we dine unattended.’
As she spoke Mrs Paxton came into the room carrying a large tureen which she placed on a serving table, followed by Edith with soup plates, and together they dispensed and served the thick broth the tureen contained.
Not yet having met either, Sophie looked at them with interest. Mrs Paxton was a small neat woman of middle years. With her hair drawn back in a bun topped with a white cap, she was dressed in a plain dark-blue stuff bodice and skirt, and moved with quick confidence about the table. Edith, on the other hand, was a short, dumpy girl of perhaps eighteen years, dressed in a black uniform dress, cap and apron. She seemed awkward as she served those at the table and Sophie could see that she kept an anxious eye on Thomas Penvarrow, and was clearly afraid of him.
‘Thank you, Mrs Paxton,’ Louisa said in dismissal when they had all been served. ‘I’ll ring when we’re ready.’
Once Mrs Paxton and a relieved-looking Edith had left the room, Sophie turned to Charles who had been seated next to her. ‘I still haven’t had the pleasure of meeting your daughter yet, Cousin Charles. How old is she?’
‘Six,’ he replied shortly.
‘That’s a lovely age,’ Sophie said. ‘Children of that age are so eager to learn, aren’t they? Does she do well at her books? What does her governess think?’
‘She’s still too young to have a governess,’ Charles said.
‘At six?’ Sophie was surprised. ‘Surely that’s just the right age to—’
‘You’re an expert on the education of children, are you?’ Charles asked coldly.
‘No, but—’
‘Well, in that case, I’ll thank you to mind your own business. I think I may be relied upon to know what is best for my child.’
‘Certainly,’ agreed Sophie, clinging to the rags of her temper, ‘but in fact I have taught children her age with great success.’
Charles looked at her coolly. ‘You were yourself a governess until you learned of your inheritance here, were you?’
‘No, I was not,’ Sophie flashed back. ‘But I did teach children to play the piano. And as for my inheritance, as you call it, as far as I know I have none. I am simply carrying out the dying wishes of my mother. I am paying a visit, and when it is over I shall return to my own home.’
‘This is your home now, Sophie,’ said her grandfather, who had been listening to their exchange.
Sophie turned at once. ‘No, Grandfather, it is not. I have come here to heal the breach between my mother and you, and when I have finished my visit, I shall return to my home, in London.’
Charles’s eyes flashed a look of appreciation when he heard her stand up to their grandfather, and seeing it, Sophie wondered if she had perhaps found an ally after all. He made no comment, but adroitly turned the conversation.
‘Do you ride, Cousin Sophie?’
‘Do you think we could drop the “Cousin”, Cousin Charles? We are not cousins, you know, and I’d much prefer you simply called me Sophie.’
‘As you wish. Do you ride, Sophie?’
Sophie smiled. ‘I used to,’ she answered. ‘My father had relatives in Suffolk, and we used to go and stay with them sometimes. I learned to ride there.’
‘I see. That’s a pity.’
‘What is?’ demanded Sophie.
‘Well, if you haven’t ridden since you were a child...’
‘I didn’t say that,’ retorted Sophie. ‘I learned in Suffolk at my Uncle Harold’s home, but when I grew older my father used to hire horses on occasion and we’d ride in the park. It was something special we did together.’
‘Hhrumph.’ Thomas looked annoyed. It was clear that he didn’t want to hear anything about Sophie’s father.
‘If you’d like to ride while you’re here, Sophie,’ Charles said, ‘we must find you a suitable horse. It’s the perfect way to see the countryside.’
‘Thank you, Charles, I’d love that,’ she said, smiling at him with genuine pleasure.
The meal progressed slowly. When Louisa rang the bell Edith appeared to clear the plates and Mrs Paxton brought in baked meats, and for dessert there was a syllabub. Sophie enjoyed the food. It was simple, well-cooked and tasty, but throughout the meal there were long and awkward silences. Sophie wished more than ever that Matty had stayed at least one night. Louisa contributed almost nothing to the conversation, and the two men spoke only occasionally, speaking of local affairs of which Sophie knew nothing. Her own efforts at conversation were answered shortly, and Sophie was soon wondering if all mealtimes at Trescadinnick would be as dull and as difficult as this.
If so, she thought, it certainly won’t be long before I go home.
Even so, it gave her a chance to observe her newfound family. Her grandfather, irascible, used to having his own way, tended to make statements, which no one questioned. Charles seemed dour and distant, as if his mind were elsewhere and interruption of his thoughts was a nuisance. Louisa also seemed withdrawn. Some years older than her sisters, her face was lined and tired. She seemed afraid of her father, shock and something akin to fear registering on her face when Sophie answered back to him. But at last it was over and Louisa led her from the table into the drawing room, where Mrs Paxton brought them tea.
‘Aunt Louisa,’ Sophie began, deciding it was time to make an effort with her taciturn aunt, ‘it’s very kind of you to have me here.’ It seemed a lame beginning, but she could think of nothing else.
‘Your grandfather wanted to see you,’ Louisa replied, her voice devoid of expression.
‘But you didn’t?’ Sophie asked, softening her question with a smile. ‘I am your niece after all. Weren’t you curious?’
‘Mary left a long time ago,’ Louisa said. ‘She cut her ties with us. She chose not to belong here.’ Her eyes flashed at Sophie as she added, ‘You don’t either.’
In the face of such hostility Sophie felt at a loss, so she simply said, ‘As I said to my grandfather, I’m only here for a visit. My home is in London.’
An awkward silence fell and they drank their tea without further conversation. Sophie was relieved when Charles and her grandfather joined them and there was some desultory discussion about what everyone planned to do the next day.
Suddenly Thomas turned to Sophie and said, ‘You mentioned you played the piano, Sophie. There’s the piano.’ He waved a hand towards the corner of the room. ‘Play us something now.’
Sophie looked across at the piano that stood in an alcove and then back at Thomas. ‘Of course, Grandfather, if you want me to. But I haven’t any music with me, so I’ll have to play something from memory.’
‘Plenty of music in there,’ replied Thomas, gesturing to the piano stool.
‘Even so, I think I’ll play something I know.’ Sophie smiled, crossing to the piano and lifting its lid. ‘Perhaps you could bring the lamp over, Charles.’
He did as she asked and Sophie settled herself down on the stool and ran her fingers over the keys. ‘It’s a bit out of tune,’ she remarked. ‘When was it last played?’
‘It hasn’t been played for years,’ Louisa said. ‘Not since... since Anne died.’
Sophie turned to Charles, who had remained beside the piano. ‘I’m sorry. Did she play often?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ he replied shortly. ‘She was a good pianist.’
Sophie chose a Beethoven sonata that she knew well and then a folk song, which she sang in her clear soprano voice, shakily at first but steadying as she grew in confidence. Then she closed the piano and turned back to her grandfather. ‘I’ll practise something else for tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I’d love to look through the music here. If you don’t mind, that is.’
‘Play whenever you like,’ Thomas said. ‘Charles, arrange to have the piano tuned at once; it sounds terrible. Now I’m going to bed and I suggest you do the same.’
They all moved into the hall where candles were set out on a side table. ‘Do you know your way up to your room?’ Thomas enquired as Sophie picked up a candle and Charles lit it for her. ‘Louisa, take the child up to her room.’
‘It’s all right, really, Grandfather. I know my way and Hannah will be waiting up for me.’ She reached up to him and to the amazement of both Charles and Louisa, kissed his cheek. ‘Goodnight, sir. I hope you sleep well.’ She turned back to see Louisa watching her coldly, and changed her mind about offering her a goodnight kiss. Instead she said, ‘Goodnight, Aunt. Goodnight, Charles. I would love to go riding some time if it’s possible.’
Then, with a smile that encompassed them all, she lifted her candle high and went upstairs to her room.
‘Thank goodness that’s over,’ she said to Hannah as she closed the door behind her. ‘What a dreary evening. Do you know, Hannah, none of them seems happy. They never smile. We’re not staying here longer than we have to, or I shall go mad.’
‘Now then, Miss Sophie, you’re just tired, that’s all. Things’ll look different in the morning, you mark my words. Come on now, it’s time you were in bed.’
Later, when Hannah had gone to her own room, Sophie lay in bed listening to the wind whining round the house and rattling her window. The banked-up fire gave a faint glow, but as her eyes grew used to the dark, it was enough to make out the shapes of the furniture in the bedroom. How often had her mother lain here in the fire glow, listening to the wind before she fell asleep, Sophie wondered.
She thought back over her day; the journey, her arrival at Trescadinnick and the people she had met there, and decided the only one she really liked was Dr Nicholas Bryan.