Meant To Be (Pendleton Manor 1)

But she didn’t have to risk travelling to Oxfordshire. Harry would be at a ball at Albury House next week and she could meet him there. Face to face. If she could just see him again, meet his eyes, remind him of the promises he had made and the future they had planned …

Harry was old enough now to make up his own mind, but perhaps he had forgotten what they meant to each other. Perhaps, like Sophy, he had had other troubles to deal with. She wanted to believe that, believe that Harry still meant to stand by his promises to her, but that life had thrown obstacles at him.

Sir Geoffrey had said that Harry had forgotten her because she was no longer in his sphere. Although she didn’t believe it was as simple as that, she now had a chance to enter his sphere. Show him she was still the girl he had loved. Show him that there was still a chance for them.

The closer she got to Lambeth the more the idea of attending the ball seemed like the perfect ending to their love story.

“I have to go to a ball, Grandma!”

She burst out with the words as soon as she walked in the door of her grandmother’s house.

Grandma Susan, who had been dozing in her favourite chair, woke with a start. “A ball?” she said, struggling to sit up. “What on earth are you talking about, Sophy?”

“It’s next week, Grandma. At Albury House. I have to go. Harry will be there and I must see him. I think … I know if he sees me he will remember how we were and then everything will be all right.”

Slowly the truth was untangled, and her grandmother’s expression grew thoughtful.

“So Harry has been running Pendleton while his father harasses him from his sick bed? I suppose that would cause anyone to set aside their own happiness for a time. But would it be enough to stop him seeking you out, Sophy?”

“Sir Arbuthnot has been lying, at least I think he has. Adam said he and Harry thought I was married. That would be Sir Arbuthnot’s doing, but I need to ask Harry. We can sort it out, I know we can, if only I can see him face to face. This is my chance, Grandma. I can’t not take it.”

Her grandmother nodded, her eyes bright with excitement. “Let me send a note to Sir Geoffrey, and then I will take you upstairs and show you some of my treasures. Ever since you arrived on my doorstep, I have been preparing for a day such as this. I just thought it would be under different circumstances.” There was a twinkle in her faded blue eyes. “A society ball,” she sighed. “Imagine!”

Sophy asked her what she meant by treasures, but her grandmother refused to answer, shaking her head and demanding a pen and paper. After a note to Sir Geoffrey was written and sent off, she led the way upstairs to the cluttered box room under the eaves. A trunk sat in a corner, its domed lid covered in a thick layer of dust.

When Grandma had regained her breath, she unfastened the catch and flung the top back. The dust flew up into the air and they waved their hands, coughing. It was a good few moments before Sophy could look inside.

Gowns, all carefully wrapped, the folds protected from moths with bags of lavender. Sophy gasped, the sight was so unexpected. Grandma reached in, lifting out a garment, removing the covering, and shaking it so that it was properly displayed. Sophy reached out a tentative finger, eyes wide.

“It’s so beautiful,” she breathed. Then her grandmother took out another, and another. Although the styles were old-fashioned, the colours and fabrics were as fresh as they must have been when they were packed away.

“But whose are they?” Sophy asked, running a careful finger along some velvet edging.

Susan chuckled. “Why, they’re mine, child! Whose did you think they were? I was quite a belle in my day. Sir Geoffrey liked me to look my best whenever I was on his arm.”

Sophy tried to pick a question from the dozens whirling around her head, but she was speechless.

“I saved them,” her grandmother continued. “I could have sold them, I suppose, or given them away. Your mother wondered why I didn’t. She said keeping them was a reminder of our shame and disgrace.” She snorted. “Well, I felt no shame. And I’m very glad now I kept them, because you see before you the makings of your own triumphant arrival at Albury House.”

“Oh,” Sophy whispered, finally understanding. And then her smile fell, “But I will need an invitation.”

“Never you mind that,” her grandmother said. “What do you think the note I sent off was about? Sir Geoffrey will deal with the invitation. Let us decide on the colour and the style that flatters you best, my love. We don’t have much time to work, but I feel sure we can manage something passable.”

It was more than passable.

A white silk skirt over a muslin petticoat, with a bodice of deep blue velvet with a matching ribbon tied beneath her bosom. The dress was simple enough and yet elegant too, and Sophy knew it set off her figure to its best advantage. She had always been slim, but her curves were a tad more voluptuous now than when Harry last saw her, and her face had lost its girlishness and matured into what Grandma said was womanly beauty.

With Sophy’s fair colouring and blue eyes, Sir Geoffrey said she looked like an angel. Sophy retorted that she felt more like a marble statue, stiff and frozen with nerves.

She was going to come face to face with Harry again, and although she had longed for this moment with all her being, and still did, it was also terrifying.

What if he didn’t want her anymore?

No. She couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t believe it. And yet Adam had said Harry had stopped looking for her. There were questions she needed the answers to, and it was time he explained himself.

She remembered that night he had made her his. His passion and tenderness, the way he had held her in his arms and told her he loved her. He loved her and she loved him. As soon as he saw her again he would remember it all and put aside whatever events had set them apart. They would be together from that moment on. She was buoyed up on a cloud of hope and certainty, and she dared not think otherwise.

“She looks rather like you did when you were a girl.” Sir Geoffrey shared a look with her grandmother. They shared rather a lot of looks.