Page 38 of The Gentlewoman Farmer

“What are you doing?” Sophia asked her uncle.

“I am taking your mother to my house, where she belongs.”

Paris, France

3 July 1751

Dear Sophia,

I discovered that M. Aubin sleeps early and deeply. He drinks port before bed, a lot of it. The poor man is troubled with unmet aspirations. But I still can’t like him. He is an unnecessarily cruel tutor. But I wanted to tell you that because he sleeps so profoundly, I can escape our apartments while he slumbers.

Paris is alive at night, and I am more inspired by one evening stroll along the Seine than a week of staring at the royal art collection in the Luxembourg Palace. I go to cafes, and if I have time, I walk outside the city to the Guinguette, where the less fashionable crowd meets.

All my love,

Philip

Chapter 16

8 May 1753

“What just happened, Philip?” Sophia asked. Her eyes burned with tears and her chest with fury. The cart that contained her mother turned the corner, going out of sight.

“We underestimated your uncle.” Philip slipped his arm around her. He was warm and enticingly comforting, but she stepped away.

Aunt Mary, Mrs. Eliot, and every servant along with Sophia and Philip had argued and pled, but Uncle Thorpe had been deaf to their cries. Mrs. Worthington had come down from the cart, hushed the crowd, and announced in a trembling voice that she was visiting her brother of her own accord. Uncle Thorpe had nodded, and before Sophia knew it, they were gone. She would have to trust that she could fulfill the terms of the bargain with her uncle. So far, things were going smoothly, but uncertainty was ever present.

“Sophia.” Philip’s voice cut into Sophia’s worries. “Who is that?” Philip motioned toward the house.

“That?” Sophia’s gaze followed Philip’s, and her jaw clenched. “That is Charles,” she said and marched toward her cousin.

So intense was the commotion around Mrs. Worthington’s departure that no one had noticed Cousin Charles sitting glumly on a trunk near the front door.

“Charles! What in heaven’s name are you doing here? Your father did not mention your coming,” Sophia said.

Charles squinted up at Sophia. “I’m happy to see you as well, Cousin.” His voice was flat and after he spoke, he looked down at the ground, slouching into his trunk. “Didn’t my father tell you? I’m here to oversee your farm.” He didn’t sound pleased.

Sophia put both her hands on her hips. “Is that what you want to do?”

“No.”

“Good. Stay out of my business.” Charles’ waistcoat was unbuttoned, his cravat loose. A little sympathy entered her heart. “Listen,” she said, her voice softening. “Neither of us wants this. I am a capable farmer. If your father comes, I will tell you what to say so he will think you’re involved. Otherwise, enjoy your visit. Show your father that you can do as he asks, and soon you’ll be back at university.”

His face lit with hope. “Do you think so?”

“Of course. If you stay out of trouble.”

Charles grumbled and kicked the dirt.

“I’m afraid the house is nearly at capacity. The only room I have for you is the attic, but we can make it comfortable enough.”

“Don’t trouble yourself. Your mother is gone. I’ll sleep there.”

Sophia wanted to smack him. “You will not enter my mother’s room. Stand up and drag your trunk carefully to the attic. You can see to yourself.”

Philip approached Sophia as her cousin retreated. “We will get her back and stop your uncle’s nonsense. Try not to worry. You already have too much on your mind.”

“What you’re telling me is impossible, but I appreciate the effort.” Sophia tried to laugh, but it turned into a sob. Philip pulled her to him. She did not resist this time.