Page 7 of Summoner of Sins

She left with a collection of items that were loaded into the waiting hack. She made a trip to the haberdashery to buy several hats and gloves that might accompany the gowns, along with other matching bits of ribbon. Then, she returned to Lord Whitehouse’s estate, a sprawling mansion with vast lawns right in the heart of the city.

Several footmen met her at the carriage door, unloaded her items, and carried them into the house. She’d been excused from her lessons for the day to acquire her clothing, but tomorrow she’d commence with her tutor on comportment and grace.

She sighed. Though her mother had married a soldier, she’d taught Sophie well. They’d even had enough money for a cook and a maid. Her father had been in the military and once he’d retired, he’d started a counting house, and they’d lived a good life. However, not a year after his retirement, he’d passed.

Her mother had been shrewd, and she’d hidden what she could from the counting house. Unfortunately, she’d also grown ill and then died, leaving Sophie and Abigail with nothing but the name of a single relative—Lord Allister Stanley. Her mother’s brother, Sophie’s uncle.

Sophie had sewn the money into her skirts that her mother had removed from the counting house and left the north of England for London. She’d been directed to her uncle’s house but had been dismayed to see the state of disrepair it was in. But she’d forged on, having no other choice.

When she’d rang the bell, an older gentleman had answered. “I’m looking for Lord Stanley.’

“I’m Lord Stanley. Who are you?” he’d barked at her.

“Uncle Allister, I’m your niece. The daughter of Lady Amelia.”

He grunted as another man appeared behind him. “Who’s that?”

“My niece, or so she says.”

“Let her in, Uncle Allister,” the other man had laughed as he’d walked away.

She’d been filled with dread as she’d made her way into the house, Abigail at her side. She’d been shown into a room with nothing but water, as she’d waited for nearly two hours.

Uncle Allister finally joined her, listened to her plight, and brought her and Abigail up to a room. That’s when he’d told her the rules. No coming out of her room after seven, always barring the door behind her.

She’d nodded as a tray of food was placed on the table and then the door closed without another word from her uncle. No, Uncle Allister didn’t treat her with the love her parents had, but she’d been safe this past year.

Stepping into the vast entry of Lord Whitehouse’s home, she stopped to stare up at the gilded ceilings. It was almost like a church with its stained glass and elaborate arches.

Sophie had been so grateful that she had decided to ask as little as possible from her uncle, but perhaps it was time for a few answers. Returning to her room, she pulled out a needle and thread, creating small pockets in a second skirt to hide the dress money as Tabbie had instructed her. All told, she had about five thousand pounds sewn into skirts. It was a great deal for a woman of her station, but Sophie knew that it would only last for so long should she leave with Abigail. As if on cue, she heard the distant cries of a child.

Folding the skirt up on her bed, she exited the room again, following the sound of the cries. She found her sister, her large brown eyes filled with tears as a nanny stood over her with her arms crossed, glaring at Abigail.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, bending down to scoop Abigail into her arms.

“The child refuses to nap,” the nanny huffed.

Abigail curled into her sister, her cries growing softer as she rubbed her wet face on Sophie’s shoulder.

Abigail had surely been missing Sophie and the routine they’d established. “I fancy some air, anyway. I shall take her out to the park while you take a break, yes?”

The nanny’s eyes only narrowed. “As long as I am here, she’ll follow my schedule.”

Sophie didn’t have much experience with staff, but she’d seen Tabbie with her maids today. Tabbie gave the orders and not the other way around.

And while Sophie was a guest, this was her sister. No one knew better what Abigail needed than Sophie. “Let me try again. You’re dismissed.”

The nanny huffed, before turning away and tossing over her shoulder. “Lord Whitehouse shall hear of this.”

Sophie let out a long breath of air. She had no idea how Lord Whitehouse might react to the knowledge that Sophie had begun ordering the staff about, but that was a problem for later. Right now, she wished to comfort her sister. They needed a few minutes together. With that in mind, she wrapped herself in a shawl, placing another about Abigail.

“I don’t like it here,” Abigail pouted into her shoulder. “I want to go home.”

Sophie frowned. How would she explain to a child that she had absolutely no say in where the two of them lived? Stepping back out onto the porch, she made her way down the drive and out the side gate, crossing to the park on the other side of the street.

A few people strolled about, but she found a quiet bench in the warm afternoon spring sun and sat with Abigail who let out a large yawn, snuggling closer.

Sophie sang to her sister, brushing a kiss across her forehead. She closed her eyes in the dappled sun. “I want to go home too.” But she didn’t mean she wished to go back to Uncle Allister’s. She meant the before.

---