Charleston, South Carolina
February 1899
Sophia Fairfield’s heart skipped at the sight of Mother holding a damp handkerchief to her eyes as Father and his business partner, Prescott Payne, stood before the floor-length windows facing Charleston Harbor with their heads together, speaking in low, somber tones over the crackling of the fireplace. They halted their whispering when they caught sight of her standing in the second-floor East drawing room doorway, her reticule dangling from her fingertips with her box of new poetry, papers, and pencils propped on her hip. “Mother? What’s wrong?”
Mr. Payne stepped forward, his emerald eyes capturing hers in a most disconcerting fashion. Grinning down at her, he ran his hand over his neatly trimmed gray beard. “My dearest Sophia, I’ve spoken with your father and mother, and they have wholeheartedly given us their blessing to wed.”
Sophia’s stomach dropped, her limbs aching to bolt from the parlor as the grandfather clock in the corner sounded the noon hour. Her gaze darted to Mother’s elated face. Sophia had only accepted Mr. Payne’s suit last month as a courtesy to her father, intending on ending things once Mr. Payne saw that they were ill-suited for one another, given he was over twice her age, but he had apparently not understood her subtle hints for him to cease his efforts. Or not even cared, given he sought my father’s answer instead of my own.
“Is my darling bride-to-be speechless at last?” Prescott held his hand out to her, inviting her to join him.
Bride-to-be? The box slipped from her grasp, the items scattering about the floor. She dropped to her knee to retrieve them, but Father crossed the room and seized her arm.
“Leave it for Belle.” He waved forward the petite maid standing beside the tea service.
Sophia sent her friend an apologetic smile as Father drew her away into the gilded parlor. Though a small room, gold leaf adorned the crown molding and the ornate medallion with the gold and crystal chandelier in the center of the room that illuminated the platinum wall coverings that perfectly matched the opposite West parlor room. Mother had to have a matching set of French chandeliers of her own after her visit to her sister’s in New York.
“I have already accepted his hand on your behalf, daughter. You will wed as soon as you choose the day. We were just discussing the arrangements right before you returned home from your little shopping expedition on King Street.”
Perhaps I can reason with Father when Prescott departs? But one glance at the pride radiating from her father, she knew it would be hopeless and she would never have the courage to stand against him. Like every time before, she would wilt beneath his crushing will despite her best arguments. She glanced down at her ring finger. She had been fortunate he had never pressed her into a marriage before now . . . but she supposed being the seventh, homeliest child of nine had something to do with it, and now that her youngest and prettiest sisters had wed at Christmas, she should have suspected she was next.
Mr. Payne captured her hand and slid a gold ring with a ruby cushioned by a pearl on either side onto her shaking finger. “What a lovely bride you will be, my dear. I am a fortunate man indeed to have found three women in one lifetime whom I have loved.” He kissed her fingertips, his bushy mustache brushing against them and making her jerk back her hand. He narrowed his gaze for a half second before laughing.
Her? A lovely bride? She had been told far too often to keep her bangs trimmed and tidy to hide her high hairline and scolded more often than not for reading too late as it made her eyes habitually shadowed. No one in this family had ever accused her of being a beauty, except perhaps her youngest sister Jane. But Jane was the sweetest of the Fairfield daughters. Maybe it was because of her plainness, Sophia had never thought she would be required to marry. It would have required too much financially of her father to make a good match with a handsome suitor. She worried her bottom lip. Prescott, though twice her age, had retained his charm and could have had any of the society widows. What has Father offered him to lure him into a match?
“My second wife was a widow, so I have forgotten how you young brides can be with your wedding nerves,” Mr. Payne said to her, conspiratorially elbowing Father.
Mother had the decency to blush while Father joined in the bawdy laughter, slapping Mr. Payne on the shoulder.
She swallowed back her protest over their assumption that she would marry Mr. Payne, but she could not broach the subject while he was in the home. She would have to do battle in secret. She had never stood up to Father’s demands before, but her parents had not set their sights solely on marrying her off before. She studied the ruby and all that was tied to it. She twisted it around her finger.
Mother grasped Sophia’s hand and admired the gem before turning her bright smile up at Prescott. “It is magnificent. Well done, Mr. Payne. We will make the announcement at Sophia’s birthday dinner party tonight. My daughter’s engagement to Prescott Payne on her twenty-fifth birthday will be a surprise and delight to all who attend. I would love for Sophia to have a June wedding, but it is rather far away.”
Sophia gripped the back of the settee to ground herself. Please Lord, give me the courage to speak with my father and be victorious just this once. I cannot lose when there is so much at stake. Now that her siblings were married, she was supposed to have this time to herself—to enjoy being the only daughter in the Fairfield house, to spend her days studying and tutoring her nieces and nephews, as well as the dear girls at the orphanage.
“Two months will be more than sufficient to plan a wedding fit for American royalty,” Prescott replied, dismissing Mother’s suggestion without so much as an apology. He snatched up his burgundy planter’s hat and cane from the settee and turned on his boot’s heel to face Sophia. “I must depart to dress for our engagement party, but know that I am counting the minutes until we wed, my sweet girl.”
Then you will be counting forever if I have my way. She managed a weak smile, willing herself to be silent until they were alone. For if she did indeed lose this battle, she did not want Prescott to think of her as a spineless woman, even if everyone else in this family thought it was true. She waited for the downstairs front door to close behind him and crossed the drawing room to the window, watching the happy couples and families in carriages passing below her on East Bay Street. She closed her eyes against the sight, silence greeting her ears. She ached for the days when the house was filled with the sounds of her siblings running up and down the stairs, laughter filling the home—no matter how much they teased her for her looks and her nose always being stuck in a poetry book.
“Don’t you think it is a little soon for me to consider marriage to Mr. Payne?” Sophia looked tentatively up at her father. “Not that I am not honored by having a gentleman in such high standing interested in me, but we hardly know one another.”
“It certainly is not. For some reason, he considers you attractive even though you are practically an old maid and well,” he motioned at her with one hand.
“Ernest.” Mother cleared her throat. “What your father means is that he’s far more established than any other suitor you have ever entertained.”
“At fifty-five, one would hope for establishment, but I’ve only entertained the suitors my sisters rejected who only wanted to call upon me in order to become better acquainted with Father and his shipping industry,” Sophia mumbled, running her fingertip over the wavy glass, longing to be out of doors, even if it was freezing, to be away from his oppressive gaze. At least on the portico she could breathe and pretend not to be trapped by her parents’ expectations.
Father sighed and gently grasped her wrist, turning her toward him. “You are trying my patience with your protests, my dear. You must admit I have been more than indulgent of your sisters’ choices in suitors, and your lack of interest in suitors in the past, but you cannot stay in my household forever. And if you will not pick a gentleman who suits your fancy and who actually wishes to marry you, I will.”
Mother rested a staying hand on Sophia, quieting her protest. “Sophia, you know Prescott could have his pick of any widow in Charleston and yet, he has chosen you, and we couldn’t be happier with the match.”
She lowered her head, her cheeks flaming with suppressed anger at her helplessness. “I am well aware of that fact, but you see, I didn’t choose him. Father did. And how on earth he could expect that I would be happy with a man better suited to be my aging uncle than my husband, I’ll never know.”
Mother gasped. “Sophia Bird Fairfield! Such an outburst is not to be borne. Apologize to your father at once.”
Father held up his hand, the diamond in his gold ring on his little finger shimmering. “No, she’s right. I was the one urging you to accept my friend as a suitor in the first place, and I’m the one who has accepted his hand for you.” He took Sophia’s hand in his with a tenderness she had not felt in years. “I’ve always had your best interests in mind, which sometimes means I have to make the difficult decisions for you. As a little girl, you trusted me to take care of you, but after that bout with scarlet fever that weakened you, I had to be, what appeared at the time, callous in my choices for you.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “All I ask is that you trust me again, Sophia, and know I will do what is right for you.”
“I do trust you, but am I never to have a voice? Or would you have me follow your will on this as I have done for everything else in my life because it’s easier than disagreeing with you?” She bit her lip at the hardness returning to his eyes. Sophia’s will waivered as it always did in the face of his disapproval, and he knew it.
“Your siblings have all made marriages of advancement. This would not only make me happy, but I’ve spoken with your brothers Elton, Thomas, and Robert. They all agree that Prescott is a most advantageous match for the family. As my business partner, and a gentleman of great means in his own right, I know Prescott has stature among not only all of Charleston, but nationally. He will take care of you in the manner you are accustomed to and will give you all that your heart desires.” He gave her a little smirk. “I imagine he would provide you with a library full of every poetry book you have ever dreamed of possessing.”
Mother nodded, placing her arm about Sophia’s petite waist. “And more importantly, Prescott expressed to me how much he adores you.”
“We have only been seeing each other for a month . . .” Sophia shook her head, incredulous at the news. She could count on her right hand the weeks he had called upon her. “No, it hasn’t even been a month because he was out of the city for a week, so how on earth could he possibly adore me?”
“Sometimes, it only takes a day.” Mother smiled up at Father. “It only took a moment for us to fall in love.” She stroked Sophia’s cheek, tucking a stray flaxen lock behind her ear. “A love for Prescott will come. Trust us. Just give it time.”
* * *
Seated in the middle of the massive mahogany dining table with Mr. Payne on her left, Sophia felt on display in her copper silk creation from Worth with its daring neckline, which Mother had insisted upon. And seeing as Mother would broach no argument, Sophia defiantly had her bangs braided back to reveal her high hairline, despite her mother’s expressed disapproval.
Sophia glanced to her right where Mother was making small talk with her dinner guests across the table, her siblings and their spouses sprinkled throughout the group of close friends. Sophia struggled to keep her expressions from reflecting the dread she had been attempting to mask all evening in the flickering light of the Girandoles, their four candlesticks further illuminated in the convex looking glasses.
Smoothing her silk skirt, she attempted to slow her racing heart and focused on the melodies of the string quartet. Mother hated lulls in conversation, so she always had soft music flowing through the foyer from the downstairs parlor during dinner parties, which sometimes made for a noisy dinner, but for once, Sophia did not mind as it gave her time to collect her thoughts. How had this afternoon gone so differently than she had hoped?
When she had broached the topic of becoming an English tutor for the other young ladies of Charleston, as well as continuing her work at the orphanage, both her parents scoffed at her offering—even though she had been the one to teach her nieces and nephews how to not only read but enjoy the study of poetry. While her parents saw her tutoring in the orphanage little more than wasted charity, Sophia knew she was making a difference as two of her charges, who were aging out of the orphanage, obtained positions as English teachers.
If she wasn’t allowed to tutor, what other choice did she have? According to her father, she needed to have her own home at once—to be provided for as a gentlewoman. Without the option of a position, she was left with no other choice. Lord, give me direction. Send me someone else! Or give me a way out of this marriage.
“You are radiant this evening, my darling.”
His deep voice awoke Sophia from her reverie, and she looked to her intended. He was a well-preserved gentleman for his age and if they had time together, perhaps she could indeed become friends with him even if the thought of sharing a life with him made her stomach turn. “Thank you, Mr. Payne.”
“I believe it would be appropriate now for us to address one another by our given names. After all, we are betrothed,” he grinned, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight that further shadowed his crow’s feet.
“Very well, Prescott.” She took a substantial bite from her sweet potato roll to avoid saying anything else. The sweet bread caught in her throat, and she released a series of strangled coughs that had her reaching for her water glass and her mother shooting her a scowl.
“I wish you did not feel so nervous around me, Sophia.” Prescott chuckled, returning his attention to his mushroom soup.
“Nervous? Why ever would you think that?” Sophia cleared her throat and took a spoonful of soup but missed her mouth slightly. She snatched up her napkin and dabbed her reddening cheek.
His hand slid over the tablecloth and encased hers. “Because, besides almost choking on your bread, I can feel your hand trembling.” He smiled. “A sweet trait for a bride-to-be, but as your future groom, I would like a bit more from you than a chaste kiss on the hand.”
“More?” Her voice cracked. What is he asking?
He leaned toward her, his eyes rolling appreciatively over her gown. “A kiss at the end of the evening is more than proper . . . and I do not mean on the cheek.” He slowly ran his finger over her wrist in small circles. “You have no need to fear me. I will be a good and gentle husband to you.”
A kiss. Simple to a man with two wives before her, but she had always longed to share her first kiss with a man she loved. She carefully withdrew her hand and dipped her head, sensing Prescott stiffening beside her at her silent refusal.
Father rose from the head of the dining room table, clearing his throat and lifting his glass. Prescott caught her hand under the table and Sophia’s cheeks flamed as she once more slipped her hand away and folded them demurely on her lap. They were not married yet and she had no such intentions of allowing him any liberties, no matter his disapproval. You can do this, Sophia. She glanced across the table toward her childhood friend, Beatrice Hawthorne, and sent her a small smile, wishing she had the chance to tell Beatrice before the announcement even though she had no intention of following through with the match.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I please have the honor of your attention?” Father clinked his glass with a spoon. “I have asked you here tonight, not simply as a gathering of friends and family, but in celebration of a long-anticipated matter.” He smiled down at Sophia and Prescott, sending murmurs throughout the dinner party. “Most of you know, the Payne family and the Fairfields have done business together for many years and tonight, our bond deepens. Tonight, it gives me great joy to announce the engagement of my daughter to Prescott Payne.”
The room erupted with applause and cheers. Chairs scraped against the oak floor as her sisters and friends rushed to wish her well and congratulated Prescott. Despite her tumultuous heart, she smiled and accepted their warm wishes, endeavoring to catch the eye of Beatrice, but her friend remained seated, her gaze fixed on her crystal glass with heated cheeks. Sophia thought she could detect tears glistening in Beatrice’s eyes, but before she could reach her, Prescott threaded Sophia’s arm through his and led her up the curving stairs to the entertaining rooms, only pausing once they were in the center of the East drawing room. The Persian rug had been rolled up and stowed away, allowing for dancing. With a nod of his head, he signaled the quartet, who must have taken the servant’s stairs during the announcement to meet them.
He bowed to her as they began to play a waltz. “May I have this dance?”
Feeling all eyes trained on them, Sophia curtsied, allowing him to take her into his arms. His gentle touch upon her waist brought forth a sigh from a group of ladies as Prescott guided Sophia past, her skirts whirling as he effortlessly moved them about the floor in perfect time, his eyes never leaving hers. His attentiveness almost made her think they had a chance of happiness, if this was somehow the Lord’s will. But as the music faded into silence, Prescott led her off the dance floor and the spell vanished from his eyes as guest after guest came up to reiterate their happiness of the couple’s coming nuptials.
Jane drew her into an embrace, her blue eyes bright with unshed tears. “Dearest sister, I am ever so happy for you both.” She rested her hand on her abdomen. “Marriage is such a boon, and children are a blessing that fills one to overflowing with joy.” She kissed Sophia’s cheek, whispering, “I know you are uncertain of the whole business, but truly, I think you will be happy.”
“Thank you, Jane.” She squeezed her sister’s hands as the next couple pressed forward. She longed to have a talk with her sister, but if she approved of the match, she might inadvertently give away Sophia’s true feelings on the matter. No. It was best to keep her feelings tucked away.
But with every well-wisher, Sophia’s heart grew heavier. Lord help me to get through tonight. Give me direction.
“Sophia.” Beatrice hissed, tugging her arm from behind.
Sophia was about to excuse herself from Prescott, but found he was so engrossed with a fellow businessman, she could easily slip away without notice. She grasped Beatrice’s arm and accepted the silk shawl from her ever-attentive maid, Belle. Sophia smiled her thanks and guided Beatrice out onto the portico, inhaling the gentle breeze from the bay rustling through the magnolia leaves and palmetto branches. She leaned against the thick rail, drawing in the lights dancing in the harbor from anchored vessels. Perhaps there was a captain in need of a ship’s boy? She was scrawny enough. Or perhaps a handsome captain who needed a bride and wouldn’t mind if she wished to spend her time teaching and reading?
“I should have been told.” Beatrice crossed her arms against the chill.
She reluctantly turned away from the ships and the wealth of imagination they offered her. “Please forgive me for not telling you sooner, Beatrice. I would have . . . if I had known of my family’s intentions.”
Beatrice pinched the bridge of her nose, scowling. “Didn’t you just tell me three days ago you were going to dismiss him?” She motioned toward Prescott and his ring on Sophia’s finger. “And now you are to marry him in a matter of months. What happened?”
Sophia drew her silk shawl over her arms. “What I always feared would happen. My entire life I have been groomed to be a wife. I am not allowed to work. I cannot even travel alone without a maid to accompany me and even to travel with a maid, I must have my father’s blessing, which he never gives.” She met her friend’s gaze. “I’m trapped by society and my father’s rules. I have no other option because, in my father’s eyes, I’m his frail little girl that needs to be looked after by a strong, wealthy man.”
Beatrice shrugged, pulling at her gloves to return them to above her elbows. “I could’ve told you that, but I knew the only way you’d realize the truth was for something like this to happen, or better yet, you’d actually fall in love.” She nodded toward Prescott. “But I thought if you didn’t become madly in love with Prescott, I wouldn’t have minded so much as I would’ve enjoyed consoling him.”
“Beatrice! Some things should not be jested about.”
“I am not jesting. I would be honored if he came to call on me. He’s everything you could ever want in a man,” Beatrice sighed as she gazed hungrily at Prescott. “If you’d only open your mind, you’d see what a good man he is and that he’s been trying so hard to capture your hand this entire month. You cannot do better than Prescott Payne, and I suggest you take your focus off of yourself and your feelings. We aren’t all as fortunate as you to have a wealthy suitor. So, try not to make any impetuous decisions, Sophia. Think of your family and your future.” She glanced across the room, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make my own future secure.”
Stunned, Sophia followed her friend inside and leaned against the fireplace mantel as Beatrice wove through the crowd to Mr. Steward’s side, an elderly single gentleman of seventy with considerable means.
“My stepfather is the most favored man alive to have captured another angel for a bride,” a deep voice murmured behind her.