Gail Whitiker - Courting Miss Vallois

Her low, quiet voice seemed to inject a note of calm into the escalating tension and Sophie was relieved to see her brother sit back down. She knew this was difficult for him. Antoine was proud. Too proud to accept what he would only see as a handout, even from a man whose life he had saved. ‘Listen to what Nicholas has to say, Antoine,’ Sophie urged softly. ‘Then let common sense, rather than pride, dictate your answer.’

‘And please understand it was never our intention to offend you,’ Lavinia said.

‘Indeed it was not,’ Nicholas said gruffly. ‘My only desire was to try to make things better for you. I apologise if you see that as an intrusion into your lives, but the fact is I was worried about the two of you. Those were dangerous times and hardly a day went by I didn’t wonder what had become of you. I owe you my life, Antoine. Perhaps to a doctor that doesn’t mean very much, but to me—to us,’ Nicholas said, glancing at his wife, ‘it meant … everything.’

There was a poignant silence as Nicholas sat down and took Lavinia’s hand in his. Watching them together, Sophie knew he had spoken from the heart. Whether or not his plans for their future came to pass, his reasons for bringing them to England could not be faulted. They stemmed from a genuine desire to thank them for the most noble gesture one man could make towards another.

Sophie glanced at her brother and was relieved to see that he, too, was regretting his hastily spoken words. ‘You have nothing to apologise for, my lord. Sophie’s right. Sometimes a man’s pride gets in the way and prevents him from seeing what is truly before him.’

‘I fear we’ve all been guilty of that.’ Nicholas offered him an apologetic smile. ‘Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.’

‘But pride can be a good thing too,’ Sophie said. ‘It gives us the courage to fight for what we believe in.’ She leaned over and touched her brother’s arm. ‘It enabled you to pursue your dream of becoming a doctor.’

‘Yes, it did,’ Nicholas agreed. ‘But a surgeon is not a doctor. And if your wish is still to become a doctor, I can help you. For all the right reasons.’

For a moment, Antoine was silent. There was a great deal at stake and Sophie knew her brother would not make a hasty decision. He would take time to think the matter through, weighing his options before giving them his answer. ‘And Sophie? What would you do for her?’

This time, it was Lavinia who answered. ‘It is our wish that Sophie stay here in London with us for a while. Not only so we can get to know her better, but so that we might introduce her to English society. It is our hope she will form lasting friendships with the young men and women to whom she is introduced.’

‘Naturally, we will provide her with all things necessary to a young lady entering society,’ Nicholas said. ‘A suitable wardrobe. A maid to attend to her needs. A carriage. Or if she prefers, a decent mare to trot around Hyde Park—’

‘Why?’

Antoine’s one-word question stopped Nicholas in his tracks. ‘Why?’ He looked at the younger man and frowned. ‘Is it not obvious?’

‘Not to me.’

But to Sophie, who had been listening with growing concern, the answer was suddenly all too clear. ‘I think, Antoine, that Nicholas and Lavinia wish me to find … a husband.’

‘A husband?’ Then, her brother’s eyes opened wide. ‘An English husband? C’est de la folie! Sophie has no intention of marrying an Englishman ! She is perfectly capable of finding a husband in France!’

‘But what kind of man would he be?’ Lavinia asked. ‘The son of a boulanger? A shop assistant barely making enough to feed himself, let alone a wife and eventually a family.’

A flush darkened Antoine’s cheeks. ‘You assume too much, my lady.’

‘Do I? You forget that I’ve lived in France. I am well aware of the practicalities of life as they apply to a young woman in Sophie’s position and they are not without their limitations.’

‘Let us speak plainly, Antoine,’ Nicholas said. ‘Sophie’s chances of making a good marriage where she is are extremely limited. For all your noble aspirations, a surgeon is little better than a tradesman and your sister will not benefit by the association. Here, we can offer her so much more. She will move in elevated circles; accompany us to soirées and balls held at some of the best houses in London. And when a gentleman does offer for her, as I have no doubt several will, he will have to meet my standards as far as wealth and station go, and seek your approval as the man who will be your brother-in-law.’

‘May I be permitted to say something?’ Sophie asked, torn between annoyance and amusement at the conversation going on around her.

‘But, of course, dear,’ Lavinia said quickly. ‘It is, after all, your future we’re talking about.’

‘Yes, it is. And while I appreciate what you’d like to do, I really have no wish to be married.’

She might as well have said she wanted to strap on paper wings and fly to the moon.

‘No wish to be married?’ Lavinia said. ‘But … every young lady wishes to be married, Sophie. It is the only respectable option open to a woman.’

‘Perhaps, but since Antoine and I left home I have seen much of relationships between men and women, and I am not convinced marriage is to my benefit. A man stands to gains much whereas a woman loses everything.’

‘Not if she marries the right man,’ Lavinia said.

‘But she will not know if he is the right man until after she’s married him,’ Sophie said. ‘And then it is too late. Besides, what gentleman of good family is going to want someone like me? A farmer’s daughter, from Bayencourt?’

‘Rubbish! You no more resemble a farmer’s daughter than I do a tinker! ’ Nicholas said. ‘You are an astonishingly beautiful young woman who carries herself like a duchess, and who speaks the King’s English with a slight, albeit charming accent. I cannot think of any man who would not be proud to have you by his side.’

‘There, Sophie, did I not tell you?’ Antoine said. ‘If you gained nothing else from your employment with Mrs Grant-Ogilvy—’

‘Good Lord. Constance Grant-Ogilvy?’ Lavinia interrupted in surprise.

Sophie sucked in her breath. Mère de Dieu, she had begged Antoine not to mention that woman’s name. ‘Yes. Do you … know her?’

‘Not personally, but I understand she is a woman of high moral character and an absolute stickler for propriety. You could not have had a better teacher in the arts of being a lady.’

The moment passed—and Sophie breathed again. ‘Nevertheless, I am not a lady and I did not come to London looking for a husband.’ She turned to Nicholas. ‘I came to see you. And to meet Lavinia.’

‘Yes, well, why don’t we talk about all this in the morning?’ Nicholas said. ‘After you’ve had a chance to settle in.’ He glanced at his wife, seeking support. ‘What do you think, my dear?’

‘I think that’s a good idea,’ Lavinia said slowly, ‘but we probably owe Sophie an apology as well.’

Sophie blinked. ‘An apology?’

‘It was never our intention to make you uncomfortable, my dear. We simply thought that if you wished to be married, we might be able to provide you with a better opportunity to do so. However, if that is not the case, will you not at least stay and give us a chance to get to know you? We have both waited a long time to say thank you.’

Sophie began to smile. ‘And I have waited a long time to see Nicholas well again. But the final say must be Antoine’s. He has been as much guardian as brother to me these past three years and I could not stay if he was not easy with the decision.’