Meant To Be (Pendleton Manor 1)

“Prepare yourself, Harcourt,” Sir Arbuthnot repeated his warning, and then he was gone.

“Father?” Sophy whispered, creeping closer.

For a moment she didn’t recognise him. He was a shadow of his former self, his face sunken and lined, his eyes wide with disbelief. He looked behind him through the open door as if expecting to see the authorities riding up to the cottage.

“The money was a loan,” Sophy insisted. “You can prove it. Can’t you, Father?”

He stared back at her. “A gentleman’s agreement,” he muttered.

“A gentleman? He is no gentleman!”

He broke in on her bitter words. “We need to pack. Sophy, take what you can. The mail coach is your best option. I have enough money for the journey. Go to your aunt …” He stopped himself, as if a thought had occurred to him. “No, best not go there. I don’t know what she will do now that the money is not forthcoming. Go to London. Your grandmother in Lambeth. Her address is in my desk. We will decide from there what to do.”

Sophy didn’t move, staring at him, still struggling to believe this was happening to them.

George closed his hand over hers and squeezed tight. “Sir Arbuthnot means what he says. You need to act quickly.”

“Are you sure my grandmother will take me in?” Sophy whispered. “I can’t remember the last time I saw her.”

He closed his eyes. When he opened them again they were full of resignation. “Yes, Susan Jamieson will take you in. She always wanted you. At least that is one good thing I can say about her. In the meantime I will find a way of putting forward my case, and when the truth has been revealed and my name cleared, then we will be together again. Perhaps something can still be salvaged from this if we make it clear that you will marry Arnold.”

Sophy shook her head. “I am not marrying Arnold, Father. I was never marrying Arnold.”

Slowly the frown lines in her father’s face deepened and his mouth turned down. He took a step forward and rested heavy hands on her shoulders.

“What did Sir Arbuthnot mean when he said to ask my daughter? Sophy, what have you done?”

She looked up at him, remembering the night with Harry and all their promises. Someone had seen them, that was what Sir Arbuthnot meant. Someone had seen them and told him, and he had sent Harry away and then waited. Like a spider, patiently sitting in its web, for the right time to strike.

“Harry is going to marry me. Only one more year he said, until he is twenty-one, and then he can defy his father. See, I have his ring?” She pulled it up and held it toward them, dangling from the ribbon. “Harry will help us, I know he will. I need to write to him at once and tell him what has happened. Father, where is a pen and paper—”

Her father shook his head as she tried to turn away. “You stupid girl,” he said, but it was without heat. All the life seemed to have been drained from him. “Can’t you see? That is what all this is about. I promised to take you away from Harry Baillieu and Sir Arbuthnot gave me money in return, and now he knows his son has pledged himself to you.”

He held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

Fingers trembling she unfastened the ribbon and he took it from her, slipping it into his pocket. Tears were warm on her cheeks. “I’ll tell Harry what’s happened. He’ll come and-and …”

“He won’t help us, Sophy. Sir Arbuthnot will see to that. I don’t know what he promised you … what you gave him,” he sent her a look of sorrow, “but Harry will never marry a girl like you.”

He closed his eyes and when he opened them they held a glimmer of hope. “Perhaps I can reason with Sir Arbuthnot. Explain you will still marry Arnold and—”

Even as Sophy shouted out her defiance, the sound of a horseman approaching caught their attention. “The constable,” her father said bitterly. “Too late.”

Sophy refused to believe what was happening. Her life could not be ending like this. All because she had dared to love Harry. He would save her, he would save them all! But Harry was far away, and by the time he learned what had happened her father would be in prison, and she would be on her way to London. Sir Arbuthnot had planned this with masterly precision.

As she stood, arms curled about herself, crying and shaking, George Harcourt was arrested and, still protesting his innocence, taken away to the village lockup until the magistrate could see him.

It took time, but eventually Sophy turned back inside the house and began to throw together what she could into a trunk. She was not able to take everything, but she hoped the remainder could be boxed up and sent on to her grandmother’s house.

This cottage had been her home for sixteen years, since her family arrived from Audley Farm, with hopes of a new start. There had been sad times, such as when her mother died, but there had been happy ones too. Now here she was, leaving in such an irrevocable manner.

You stupid girl.

Her father’s voice echoed in her head. This was her fault. She had dared to love Harry and dream of a future with him, and because of that she had drawn the wrath of Harry’s father down upon her family. She wanted to repair the damage but she didn’t know how. If Adam was still here then he may have helped, but he had gone back to his regiment. Her only hope was writing to Harry—she knew he was at Langley Hall. Once he found out what had happened then surely he would come to her?

Sophy was able to persuade one of the estate workers to use his wagon to take her and her luggage into the village to wait for the coach. Once there she left her belongings at The Black Sheep and hurried to the school where she taught. The headmistress was appalled by her story, but if she had hoped for sympathy or at least a fair hearing then she was mistaken.

“I think it best you leave at once,” she said, eyeing Sophy as if she had grown two heads. “Your father will need your support during his trial. Maybe he will be transported to New South Wales.” She stared at Sophy, both of them silently contemplating such a dreadful fate.