Page 38 of A Secret Infatuation
She had debated whether to invite Marie to join them, and in the end, did so. For one thing, she had not seen her friend lately and missed her. For another, she was determined not to be mean-spirited. If Marie and Mr. Harwood had a shared affection, she would not put herself in the middle of it. It had been a difficult decision to reach but she was satisfied with her choice, for it was the right one.
However, Marie sent her regrets and offered no reason for it. Sophia was not given a chance to fear that their friendship was in danger, because Marie had come the next day to invite them to come to her house before the masquerade and choose amongst the selection of Greek and Roman characters her parents had accumulated over the years. Before leaving, she mentioned in passing that Mr. Harwood would be sitting in their supper box at the masquerade.
Sophia had never before considered herself a volatile creature, but her spirits plunged at the image of Mr. Harwood sharing a supper box with Marie, knowing all the while that her feelings were not just—or reasonable. In one breath, she had been determined to include Marie in an outing with Mr. Harwood; in the next, she was jealous because her friend would attend the masquerade with him. Her only comfort, meager though it was, was that Mr. Harwood would be at the masquerade. That was something she had wondered about but did not—could not—ask. It would be too forward. And besides, if he were to be there, she was not sure she wanted him to recognize her. To what purpose, she could not explain to herself. So she could observe him without his knowledge?
The sounds of the carriage pulling up outdoors alerted her to the fact that Mr. Harwood and his sister had arrived. Their own carriage was being loaded with a blanket and large basket of food, and in her hand she carried a parasol. Sophia was about to go in search of Tilly when her sister ran up from the kitchen carrying a smaller basket.
“I helped Cook make tarts,” she explained.
Sophia nodded and turned to Pen. “Tell Mama when she awakes that we will be home well before dinner, and that she must not worry about us, for we are accompanied.” Then she greeted Mr. Harwood, who was helping his sister out of the carriage.
Miss Harwood was as shy as she had been at their first meeting and seemed even more so to meet Evo and Tilly for the first time. Mr. Harwood, whose curls looked burnished in the sunlight, held out his hand in an uncharacteristic act of gallantry, and when she placed hers in his, he bowed over it. As he lifted his eyes, that same open-natured smile she had admired all those years ago reappeared and sent the same quivers through her.
“I will give instructions to your driver to follow my carriage to the boathouse in Richmond. We will take a wherry there.”
“Very well.” She could feel happiness leak out through her grin and the sparkle in her eyes. Surely he must divine her feelings when she was with him, but she was powerless to hide them. She watched him go and speak to her driver, then they all piled into their respective carriages and were off.
The ride to Richmond was accomplished in only an hour and a half, and as soon as the carriages came to a stop, she heard Mr. Harwood shouting a greeting to someone. George One opened the carriage door for them, then went over to untie the heavy basket and carry it over to the bank. Sophia’s face was protected by the large rim of her bonnet, but she could see the sun dancing off the ripples in the water in front of her.
Long flat boats rocked gently in the river, tied to the shore with thick ropes, and boys carrying hot pies or stone jars of drink ran from one waterman to another as two dogs sniffed along the bank. Mr. Harwood entered her vision on his way to one of the watermen in patched breeches and a simple shirt, standing inside of a wherry. A second waterman soon joined him carrying a long pole. Evo, eager to miss nothing, hurried over to Mr. Harwood.
“Have you traveled on a boat like this before?” she asked Miss Harwood, who stood beside her taking everything in.
“Not like this. Merely a rowboat on our neighbor’s pond.” A brief smile appeared, then she turned forward again.
“Lord Poole, if you would be so good as to assist your sisters into the boat, I will help the footman with our baskets.” Mr. Harwood went to his carriage, and Evo broke away from staring at the boats like one transfixed and moved forward to carry out the task.
The wherry wobbled as they stepped in, but the two watermen held it steady, and Evo’s grip was firm. They sat on benches in the middle, then lay the baskets at their feet as Mr. Harwood handed them in. Once it was loaded and Mr. Harwood and Evo had climbed in, the two watermen pushed off the bank with their long poles, steering the craft upriver.
Sophia was lulled by the gentle rocking on the water and the sensation of gliding as Evo, seated at the front end of the boat, kept up a steady stream of questions: Had he capsized the boat before? How long would it take to arrive at the meadow, versus how long the return trip would be, considering they would then be riding with the current? Was it too deep for the poles in the middle of the river?
Joanna would have enjoyed the day for the boat ride alone, and Sophia thought it a shame she had not come.
She glanced at Mr. Harwood and found that his eyes had been on her. He now turned them to Tilly.
“Lady Matilda, I hope you will be satisfied with your picnic today.”
She beamed at him and held up her sketchbook. “I mean to record everything that happens so I might remember it.”
“An excellent idea.” Mr. Harwood tugged his sister’s arm. “As we did not think to bring your sketchbook, you will just have to keep it all in your head and draw it later, won’t you?”
She sent her brother a fleeting smile, then glanced at Evo and the three sisters before turning away, a blush on her cheeks. Sophia could understand her movements and reactions so well. The idea that Mr. Harwood might have a family member who was so similar to her had not occurred to her. She allowed her regard to settle on him again now that he was looking ahead.
“Have you returned to the naval asylum?” she asked, astonished at the courage she possessed in opening the conversation.
“I have not had a chance to, but having visited once enables me to speak on the subject more eloquently. I am on a committee where we are arguing for pensions to go to the families of fallen soldiers.” His eyes rested on hers for a prolonged moment, and she felt the interest in them. “And you? Have you returned?”
Before she could respond, he clapped his hand to his head. “I have completely forgotten that I promised to inquire on your behalf for members’ wives who might wish to donate—and to assist you in arranging the visits.”
Sophia had not forgotten it. She had nobly agreed when Miss Edwards asked it of her because she thought it the right thing to do, but she had not yet found the courage to seek anyone out and begin. “Yes, I have not yet fulfilled that promise.”
“I will not forget again,” he vowed, then swiveled in his seat to point. “That is the meadow I had in mind for us.”
Sophia trained her eyes on the pretty stretch of grass. There was a stone walkway on the bank with an iron hook that made it easy for the wherry to pull up alongside it. The grass sloped gently upward where they could set their picnic. Farther ahead was a true meadow, and if one continued along the river, the path disappeared into a wooded area. A spreading oak provided shade nearby, and the area was empty of pleasure-seekers. One of the watermen pushed the boat over to the bank and threw the rope over. The other leapt out, but before he could secure it, Evo landed on the walkway, dropped the big stick he had brought, and wrapped the rope around the iron ring.
“May I hand this to you?” Mr. Harwood lifted up a basket, which Evo took and set to the side, and they repeated the process until all the baskets had been transferred to land. Then Mr. Harwood helped Sophia, her sisters, and Miss Harwood to alight from the boat. He did not release her from his firm grasp until she stood on solid ground and smiled at him in thanks.
As each carried an item over to the shaded spot, Mr. Harwood conferred with the watermen about the time to return, then grabbed the largest basket and followed in their wake. Despite some of the protruding roots under the tree, there was space enough in the shaded area for soft grass, and they had a perfect view of the river. A family of ducks paddled by, undisturbed by the progress of a passenger barge.
