House of Shadows Read online

  There was nothing she could say, but she leaned closer to encourage him.

  “I thought I was being clever. I knew there would be risks, but the rewards would have been so great that I was willing to take the gamble. And now I’m tasting a very, very bitter defeat.” He sighed, drained his glass in one swallow, and set it aside. “We’ve lost the silks. It was foggy last night, the Victor Isle lighthouse keeper became drunk and forgot to refill the lamp’s oil, and the ship ran aground on the rocks. Two lives lost… as well as all the cargo.”

  Sophie knit her hands together. She wished she could say something—anything—to help, but her father wasn’t looking at her, and he seemed to want to talk uninterrupted.

  “I think I told you that our co-investor pulled out shortly before the order was finalised. I took up his share of the order, which was a substantial amount more than I’ve ever invested before. But the silks were a good quality at an excellent price, and the turnover would have set us up comfortably for quite a few years.”

  “How much?” Sophie asked.

  Her father finally raised his eyes to meet hers. They looked weaker than she’d ever seen them. “It’s not everything we own, but it was a large enough sum that it may as well have been.”

  Sophie let her breath out and focussed on her hands. “What does that mean for us?”

  “We have enough to hold us for a few more months, but we would need to give up this house. We may be able to afford a smaller place in the country, but the comforts we’re used to—the carriage, the maids, the cook—will be too extravagant to keep.”

  Thomas, who was eight, had been enrolled in an excellent boarding school for the following year. Sophie hardly dared ask what would happen about it. “Thomas’s schooling—”

  “No, even if we tightened our belts to the point of starvation, we wouldn’t be able to afford a full education for him. He will have to be raised as a farmer.”

  “A farmer!”

  Her father bowed his head. “I’m afraid there’s no chance of pulling our situation back without assistance, my dear. We don’t have enough to invest in a new import—let alone to wait for it to arrive and sell. We are effectively half a step above poverty.”

  Sophie sat back in the chair. She felt dizzy, and the candles seemed too bright. Thomas’s face rushed through her mind, grubby from poking around the library’s dusty upper shelves, as he’d proudly announced that he would be a lawyer. There was no longer any hope for that—or for Sophie’s two sisters to make a good match when they came of age. They would either become governesses—if a family would take them—or marry other farmers.

  Her mind flitted to Mr Argenton and how insistent he’d been to see Mr Hemlock. He works as a merchant, too. Did he hear the news? Did he come to offer sympathy or advice?

  “That brings me to the second issue,” Mr Hemlock said, almost as though he had read Sophie’s mind. “Mr Argenton.”

  She felt too weak to sit upright, but managed to raise her head to look at her father. “Yes? Did he offer assistance?”

  There was a very long pause. “In a way.” Sophie’s father stood, carried his glass back to the decanter, and refilled it generously. As he poured the brown liquid, he asked, “How well do you know Mr Argenton?”

  “Not well. We met last night at the opera; Uncle Phillip introduced us. And we spoke for perhaps twenty minutes before you came home.”

  “Well…” Mr Hemlock leaned against the desk, glass clutched in one hand, and shook his head. There was a bitter smile on his face. It was the sort of smile that a person wears when life is so cruel that there’s nothing left to do except laugh at it. “He certainly makes his mind up quickly.”

  “Father?”

  “Mr Argenton has asked for your hand in marriage.”

  Sophie frowned. She couldn’t decide if she’d misheard or if her father was joking.

  “Laugh if you want,” Mr Hemlock said, then sipped at his drink. “I almost did when he first proposed it. But I can assure you, he’s serious. He wants you to be his wife.”

  “No,” Sophie said, feeling a bemused smile creep across her face. “You’re joking. Either you are, or he’s joking.”

  “I don’t think he knows how to.”

  Her smile faltered. “He truly—”

  “Asked to marry you, yes. I didn’t give him an answer, of course, but he will need one promptly.”

  “What… why… why on earth would he want me?”

  Sophie’s father quirked an eyebrow. “Apparently, he likes your hair.”

  “My hair?”

  “Men have married for sillier reasons.”

  Sophie sat forward and covered the lower half of her face with clasped hands. Her, married to Mr Argenton? It was beyond ridiculous. If he was truly serious, she would have to reject him immediately.

  “I’m not going to insist—or even encourage—your decision either way,” Mr Hemlock said before pausing to take another drink.

  Sophie thought he was choosing his words carefully.

  “But, my dear, I wish you to understand what this proposal means. Mr Argenton is a very, very wealthy man. He’s done incredibly well for himself in the import business; he always seems to buy just the right shipments at precisely the right time. He’s either the luckiest human on earth or the smartest. I suspect it’s a mix of both.”

  Wealth. The one thing we desperately need. “If I were to marry him… what would that mean for you? For Thomas and Lucy and Bella?”

  Her father shook his head. “Truthfully, I’m not entirely sure. He said it would be in his power to make reparations for the lost shipment. I’m not sure I believe him. It’s a very significant amount of money—I doubt I would even trust a man who was violently in love to keep that kind of promise. And yet, that’s what he offered.”

  Sophie stared at her folded hands. If Mr Argenton kept his word… if her father and siblings could be returned to their fortunes…

  “Putting us aside, I would like you to consider his offer, even just for yourself. You would be mistress of what is, by all accounts, a magnificent house. You would have status and wealth and be established in a higher society.”

  Sophie opened her mouth, but her thoughts couldn’t be expressed in words.

  “My dear.” Her father’s voice was both gentle and sad. “I wish I had managed our finances better. I wish you were still in the position to marry for love. But I’m afraid, now…”

  “Yes,” Sophie said. She felt numb. No decent, respectable man would want a woman with no dowry or title and whose relatives were reduced to poverty. No man except for Mr Argenton, apparently. “Is he really serious?”

  “It took quite a while for him to convince me, but I believe he is.”

  “And he understands our situation?”

  “He persuaded me to give him a full account. He knows you have no inheritance.”

  Sophie shook her head. Everything she knew and everything she was comfortable with had all disappeared in the span of ten minutes. It was so abrupt that she almost felt as though she and her father were discussing a stranger’s future. “I still can’t understand. If he’s that wealthy, he could have almost any girl in the country. Why me?”

  “I truly have no idea. Perhaps he wishes to marry quickly and produce an heir for his estate. Or maybe he believes his personality would make it impossible to secure a lady’s affections. I’m sure you’ve noticed—he is quite startling when you first meet him.” Mr Hemlock drained the last of his brandy, set aside the glass, then sat back in the chair opposite Sophie. She chewed on her lower lip, grateful that her father let her think in silence. “Do you know much about him?”

  “Almost nothing. His house is a fair way from any town, and, while it’s supposed to be the most breathtaking building in that part of the country, very few people see it. He doesn’t entertain much. Though that’s liable to change after he’s married.”

  “And his personality? Is he a kind man?”

  “I can’t say eit
her way. He’s fair and intelligent, but even when we’ve received shipments under the same account, most of our communication has been through letter. Though I can vouch that his handwriting is straight and neat, just the way it should be.”

  Sophie managed to chuckle.

  Her father, smiling, took both of her hands in his. “My dear, this is your choice, and your choice alone. I swear I will love you just as dearly no matter which path you take.”

  She stared at her father’s hands. They were aging; he wasn’t as young or fit as she remembered him. These later years of his life should have been dedicated to comfort and enjoyment, not the gruelling, taxing life of a farm worker. She knew he would work hard to keep food on the table and shelter over their heads… but it was in her power to ensure he never had to. And Thomas, dear clever Thomas, could attend his school and become a lawyer. Lucy and Bella would grow up amongst their peers and enjoy equal society and good education.

  “This is your choice,” Mr Hemlock repeated.

  Sophie squeezed his hands back, too overwhelmed to speak.

  CHAPTER FOUR: The Wedding

  Fifteen days later

  “Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

  Mr Argenton’s eyes were darker than night as they fixed on Sophie. “I will.”

  She knew her hands were shaking. She was sure he could feel it, even through her glove. The priest nodded solemnly then turned to Sophie and began repeating her share of the vows.

  Barely sixteen days have passed since I first met him, fifteen since I accepted his proposal. Has there ever been such a short engagement before?

  Mr Argenton had insisted on a quick wedding. He wouldn’t be able to stay in the city for long, he’d said, and didn’t know when he would return. The implications weren’t lost on Sophie—if Mr Argenton didn’t expect to visit the city any time soon, how long would it be before she saw her family again? Years?

  The priest had finished and paused for Sophie’s answer. She glanced to her right. It was a small, intimate gathering of a couple of her closest friends and family. Her father, uncle, brother, and sisters sat in the first row of pews. Her sisters looked beautiful in their new dresses, and her father was wearing his best suit. His eyes were troubled, and she could read the look he gave her as clearly as if he’d spoken.

  You can still back out, it said. You can say no.

  She turned back to Mr Argenton. If he had any apprehension about his bride’s answer, she couldn’t see it; his face could have been carved from granite.

  “I will.” She breathed the words more than spoke them, but they were just loud enough for the priest to hear. He nodded and continued the ceremony.

  Sophie heard the words, but couldn’t understand them. Fear coiled through her like a cold, thick snake, ready to strike at her heart. She could only stare at her intended husband, stunned that she was tying her life to that of a stranger.

  She’d barely seen him since their engagement. He’d visited her father twice, and she’d greeted him and said goodbye each time. There had been no chance to know him more, though; he’d spent all of his time arranging the wedding. She half wondered if that was his intention in making their marriage day so close—that she would have no time to change her mind.

  Though it was impossible to save Sophie from the scandal that would accompany such a brief engagement, it had at least spared her family from having their reduced circumstances known.

  The priest offered her a wafer, and Sophie realised she and Mr Argenton were taking their first communion together. The bread stuck in her dry mouth, but she swallowed it dutifully then sipped the wine.

  The ring wrapped her finger, foreign and unnatural. She glanced at Mr Argenton’s eyes and thought she caught a faint glimmer of triumph hidden in their depths. The expression was gone in a flash, though, and he offered her his arm to lead her out of the chapel.

  She felt dizzy. As they neared the stairs, her legs buckled, and she had to clutch at his arm to keep herself upright.

  “Steady,” he murmured, then the doors were opened, and guests showered them in flowers and seeds as they emerged into the bright morning sun.

  This isn’t the right weather at all, Sophie thought dully as she followed Mr Argenton down the path of petals and towards the waiting carriage. It should be raining.

  She passed her father and paused to hug him tightly. She wanted to say something—not goodbye, though; she couldn’t bring herself to say goodbye—but the words failed her. She thought she saw tears shining in his eyes. Then firm hands helped her up the carriage’s stairs.

  She leaned forward in her seat to maintain sight of her family for as long as possible. Mr Argenton climbed inside and sat beside her. Then door was closed, blocking her view, and the carriage drew forward with a sharp crack from the coachman’s whip.

  Sophie let the carriage’s motion push her into the seat, and she stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, fighting with herself to hold the tears at bay.

  “Are you comfortable, my dear?” Mr Argenton asked.

  My dear. The phrase seemed so alien coming from his cool, calm voice that Sophie couldn’t immediately reply. She stole a glance at him. He faced directly ahead, but watched her through the corners of his eyes. She thought she managed a smile, but she wasn’t sure. “Yes, thank you.”

  She was grateful when he let them lapse into silence.

  They were forfeiting the customary celebration meal because Mr Argenton had said it was urgent that he return to his home before too much time passed, and they needed to start early on the long trip. Sophie’s luggage was already loaded onto the carriage. They would pause at an inn ten miles down the road, where they would have a meal and Sophie could change into more comfortable travelling clothes. She had no idea what to expect from their journey beyond that. She’d never been farther north than Abbott, and none of her friends were familiar with Garlow, the closest town.

  The trip passed in a blur. The carriage was large, but Mr Argenton was so lanky that their knees kept bumping. She could feel him watching her. As soon as her throat had cleared enough for her to speak coherently, she said, “It’s a beautiful day.”

  “Yes.” A faint smile crept into his voice. “Very fortuitous weather.”

  She fixed her eyes on her hands, which were clasped in her lap. Her dress was beautiful; it had been made in the latest patterns and layered generously in lace. Her father hadn’t said anything, but Sophie was almost certain Mr Argenton had paid for it.

  She wanted to know more about her new home and what sort of life she could expect there, but couldn’t find an easy way to bring it up. Instead, she asked, “Is the town a very large one, sir?”

  “Joseph.”

  She glanced up at him, confused, and he raised his eyebrows. “You can call me Joseph.”

  “Oh.” Yes, they were married, but it still felt far too soon to use his Christian name. Far too intimate. She didn’t want to start their life together on a sour note, though, so she said, “Sophie.”

  “Sophie,” he repeated.

  She felt a thrill skip up her spine at the way he enunciated her name. She’d never heard it spoken so carefully before.

  “To answer your question, the town is quite small, but pleasant. There are some very good people living there. We don’t visit it often, though. Our house is situated nearly twenty miles away.”

  Twenty miles! That would take hours by coach. Sophie tried not to let alarm show on her face, but she knew she’d failed when Mr Argenton chuckled. It wasn’t a warm or friendly laugh, but something quite bitter. “Yes, my forefathers had exceptionally bad judgement in their choice of location. But my family has lived there for generations.”

  Sophie tried to come to terms with this news. It would mean isolation to a degree she�
�d never experienced or even contemplated before. Her father had said few people saw Northwood, but she’d thought that was due to her husband’s preference, not circumstance.

  Husband. The word hung in her mind. She wondered if she would ever become used to thinking of him as her life partner.

  “You’re beginning to regret your choice,” Mr Argenton said.

  Sophie hurried to fix a smile onto her face. “No, no, not at all! I—that is—it’s been so sudden. There’s a lot to take in.”

  He didn’t look as though he believed her, but the smallest hint of gentleness crept into his voice. “Your family has been taken care of. I’ve ensured they will have no concerns for money. You needn’t worry for them.”

  Sophie closed her eyes and exhaled. He’d kept his word, then. Thomas could begin his schooling in the new year as planned. Her sisters would be cared for. And her father could return to the merchant business with no gossip about their misfortune tarnishing his name. “Thank you.”

  At the same time, something ominous lurked in Mr Argenton’s final phrase. You needn’t worry for them. It implied that she shouldn’t worry about them ever again. By saying “I will”, she’d separated herself from her birth family forever. It was a horrible idea, and Sophie turned towards the window until she could compose herself.

  “You said your aunt, uncle, and cousin stayed with you,” she said after a moment. “What are they like?”

  Mr Argenton didn’t answer immediately. “I expect they’ll like you. I know my cousin, Elise, at the very least, wants company. She’ll be glad to have someone a little closer to her own age.”

  “How old is she?”

  “She turned twelve last July.”

  That made her about the same age as Bella. Sophie was surprised he considered her close to the child’s age, but then, at twenty, she supposed she might be nearer to Elise’s than to Mr Argenton’s. She didn’t like how that made her feel. Young. Inexperienced.

  They lapsed into silence until carriage finally pulled to a stop. Sophie peered through the window to see the inn. It was small but looked comfortable. One of the footmen opened the door and helped her out. Mr Argenton followed. Then he froze, one hand still on the carriage’s door, and squeezed his eyes closed. His face had blanched white. Sophie hesitated, uncertain if she should say or do anything, but then he blinked his eyes open and stepped towards her with a tight smile. “Let’s go in.”