Hearts Entwined (Victorian Love #3) - M.A. Nichols Page 0,10
is as well—though a tad young,” continued Mama, and Sophie gave no sign of agreement or dissent, simply nodding here and there to feign a listening ear.
“I hear Mr. Nelson keeps a fine pack of hunting dogs on his estate,” said Allen, rubbing his hands together. “It is too early for foxes, but I do hope we shall do some shooting and see their animals in action.”
“Bah,” replied Papa. “Fishing is where the true sport is at, my boy. It takes skill to choose the proper gear and situation and then guide your lure to your prey. In hunting, all that is required is a good shot, and even that is debatable when the gamekeepers throw great flocks of birds at you. It takes more skill to miss in those circumstances.”
They devolved into that old debate of theirs, regardless of how Mama attempted to sway it back to her daughter’s marriage prospects. Turning her gaze back to the landscape, Sophie ignored the conversation and thought through her plans for the visit. It was late in the season, which limited much of the flora she wished to find, but there were a few species of butterflies she might spy.
Her mind was so full of taxonomy and identifying markers that Sophie didn’t notice their speed slowing, only coming back to herself when the train stopped at the Chelmsford station. In short order, the Nelsons’ grooms and footmen whisked them from the train and towards a pair of waiting carriages, and the Banfields discovered they were not the only guests to arrive at that moment.
A husband and wife stood with their two daughters: one of whom looked barely old enough to have left the schoolroom and the other nearer to Sophie’s five and twenty. The elder’s features were unremarkable, but her coiffure and gown were the height of fashion, and she bore herself with such poise and confidence that Sophie doubted the young lady ever felt a moment of self-doubt, which more than made up for her lack of natural beauty. The young lady was quite striking.
“Mr. Caswell,” greeted Papa with a handshake, and in quick succession, acquaintances were renewed and made as applicable. Before Sophie knew it, luggage was gathered, and she was trundled into a carriage in Mr. Caswell’s place so that he and Papa could continue chatting.
“Besides, it is yet another hour or so journey, and this will give you time to forge a friendship with the young ladies,” Papa insisted as he nudged her towards the other carriage.
Sophie cast a lingering, hopeful look at the carriage her family was taking, but none of them gave her a second look. The young Miss Miriam Caswell fairly bounced on her toes as the party took their seats, and Sophie found herself staring at the young girl and her mother, while Miss Victoria Caswell sat to Sophie’s right.
This was one of the many reasons why she dreaded house parties. Truth be told, Sophie did not dislike people. Nor did the thought of speaking with strangers terrify her. But being shut into a carriage with three was an enterprise fraught with disaster. Sophie had nothing to offer in terms of fashionable conversation, and though she gossiped as much as the next person, she knew too few people to make the tittle-tattle worth knowing.
Now, Sophie was stuck with three veritable strangers and was expected to make conversation. Having been placed in this position time and time again, she knew the first five minutes would set the tone for this final leg of the journey; it never took long for her to sort out whether she had a place among her companions or would be relegated to the awkward observer.
“You must tell me everything about your brother, Miss Sophie,” said Miss Miriam, clasping her hands in her lap and leaning forward.
Sophie blinked at the young lady, but it was Mrs. Caswell who spoke.
“Oh, really, Miriam.” Mrs. Caswell’s lips puckered, her expression scrunching. “You mustn’t be so forward.”
“But he was quite handsome, Mama.” Miss Miriam fairly sighed as the coach lurched forward, forcing her into the squabs.
“And a second son.” Mrs. Caswell said the words as though they were akin to “maiden-eating dragon.”
Miriam would be better off setting her sights on some other gentleman, but Sophie could not help but stir the waters a touch. “Yes, Hugh has the distinction of being eldest, but my father’s maiden aunt doted on Allen and ensured he is provided for.”
Perhaps Sophie would have felt more terrible about offering up