Meant To Be (Pendleton Manor 1)

“You loved a boy and I think he loved you,” she said in a practical voice. “Neither of you could know what the consequences would be. This was not your fault, Sophy.”

The guilt lingered for a time, until she decided it was best to put it aside, as her wise grandmother advised, and concentrate on the future. Because despite everything that had happened she still believed she had a future with Harry. Foolish as it may seem, her entire heart was given to him, and she still dreamed of living out her days with him at Pendleton. She could not let it go. She would not. Somehow she would find him again and make her dream come true.

“It’s a shame for such a beautiful girl to have only old people for company,” Sir Geoffrey Bell declared.

Sophy refused to blush as the old gentleman’s twinkling eyes fell upon her. “I couldn’t wish for better company than this,” she said.

It was true. Since her father died she spent much of her time with Grandma, and often Sir Geoffrey when he came to call, or squire them to some play or musical event. Long ago, in the dark distant past—according to Grandma Susan—Sir Geoffrey had taken a much younger Susan Jamieson as his mistress. She had been recently widowed with two small children, and although Sophy suspected her grandmother’s choices were limited, she had chosen wisely. Sir Geoffrey loved her, and she was fond of him. Now, well past the age where passion ruled their lives, they were still firm friends.

Grandma’s home was far from ostentatious. She lived in Lambeth, one of the less fashionable areas of London, but Sophy couldn’t have been more comfortable. If it wasn’t for her yearning for Harry, she would have been prepared to make a permanent life with her grandmother and Sir Geoffrey Bell.

Despite Sophy’s lack of a letter of recommendation, Sir Geoffrey had arranged for her to take up teaching work in the parish. It wasn’t the same as the academy, not nearly as prestigious, but Sophy didn’t mind. The children of the poor were still children, and she felt she was helping them to aspire to something more than a lifetime of mindless toil for little reward. When she heard of Sophy’s talents, one of Grandma Susan’s neighbours asked for private lessons for her daughter, the child currently unable to attend classes.

“She is recovering from influenza and must rest,” the mother explained, “but I don’t like the idea of her being behind with her schooling.”

There were two more children, an older boy and a baby, and when Sophy discovered the father was a journeyman tailor, whose work often took him away from the home, she offered to help the mother in other ways.

“You have no idea how much more cheerful we’ve all been since you came along, Miss Harcourt.” The young father had arrived to find supper cooked and on the table, and his wife well rested. He had offered to see Sophy to the door and thanked her profusely for her help. He was carrying the baby in his arms as they stood on the doorstep.

Sophy smiled up at him. These parents were barely older than herself and struggling to support their family, and yet they seemed happy. It was a reminder that one did not need a fortune to find joy in life.

“I am glad to help,” she assured him, and reached out to touch the baby’s soft cheek. At the same time the child began to kick his legs wildly.

“My wife will have her hands full with this one when he begins to walk.”

“Or run,” Sophy said, and they smiled at each other.

The father looked past her and frowned. “Who is that?” he said in a sharp tone.

Sophy turned her head, but she could see no one. The street was usually quiet and today was no different. A horse was tied to a railing and a man had just turned down a narrow alley between some houses.

“That man was watching us,” he went on, seeing her puzzled expression. “I thought he might have been up to no good. There have been one or two burglaries recently. Although he seemed too well dressed to be the type…”

Sophy said her farewells and returned to her grandmother’s house. Sir Geoffrey was coming for supper and conversation between her two favourite elderly people was always amusing.

Although lately they had been stuck on the idea of finding Sophy a husband, and she wasn’t particularly pleased about that.

“You are wasting your time,” she had said last time, bringing to a close a discussion about the merits or otherwise of a wealthy relative of Sir Geoffrey’s. “I will never forget Harry and he will never forget me. How can I abandon him? You know that Sir Arbuthnot forced me to leave Pendleton and I know he has stopped Harry from reading my letters. Now that he’s reached his majority he will be able to do as he likes. He’ll find me, you’ll see. I know he will.”

Her grandmother had allowed her to hold on to her beliefs. At first she had been sceptical, wondering alou

d whether such a young man could really be so steadfast. After listening to Sophy’s passionate defence of Harry, she began to come around to Sophy’s point of view, despite their worrying lack of contact from him.

“You are a romantic, my dear,” Sir Geoffrey interrupted with a fond smile.

“My granddaughter is young. You are allowed to be romantic when you are young,” her grandmother countered.

“Although I want nothing more than to see Sophy’s wish come true, I am more inclined to a practical view. I know how the world works.”

Grandma’s smile faded into a more serious expression. “Out of sight, out of mind,” she said. “I’m afraid that is the way with most young gentleman. Now you have been removed from his sphere, Sophy, you are very much out of his mind.”

Before Sophy could protest Sir Geoffrey went on. “Could we return her to his sphere? I know you think that once he sees you again it will all come back to him. He will remember how much he loves you. He’s certainly now old enough to defy his father. I wonder why, then, he has not come? I think we can set aside the thought that he is unable to find you, Sophy,” he added with a sympathetic look. “A man with his means could find anyone.”

Sophy felt that familiar hollow ache flare up inside her. Sometimes she could go for days without feeling it, but it never went away completely.

“He is now a grown man and he will know his own mind and be able to follow it,” her grandmother was thinking aloud. “His father may still forbid him, but he can choose to ignore his father.”

“Although there are always consequences in going against one’s parent.” Sir Geoffrey said softly, fond eyes on the two women seated together on the sofa.