The Bride In Blue

The evening went reasonably well for a while after that. Maud had prepared mainly finger-food which was easy to eat either standing up or by sitting with a small plate in one’s lap. Conversation revolved mostly around Maud’s delicious food and the recent spate of rainy weather, which were both very safe topics.

Not that Sophia was really enjoying herself. The strain of the day was taking its toll, the beginnings of a tension headache pressing in over her eyes. When Harvey poured her a glass of red wine she took it readily, settling down on the couch Ivy and Wilma had recently vacated. A small smile came to her lips as she sipped the drink and recalled the many evenings she had sat with Godfrey either before the fire or out on the back porch, drinking cheap claret and discussing the latest book she was reading.

She was completely off in another world, not noticing when Harvey sat down beside her, so that when he said, ‘Penny for your thoughts,’ she jumped in surprise. But her reply consisted of nothing but a sad little smile, knowing that a man like Harvey would never understand what she and Godfrey had shared; what she had felt for him. In his eyes—as in Jonathon’s—Godfrey had been a loser, a plain, balding thirty-seven-year-old loser who had no right to the love of a pretty young girl.

She’d seen everyone’s shocked looks when she’d been brought here to Parnell Hall and introduced as Godfrey’s de facto wife. Even his own mother had been surprised, despite Godfrey’s having been her favourite son. The news that Sophia was expecting his baby had initially been met with a stunned silence. Sophia was hurt for Godfrey, once she realised they hadn’t even believed he was man enough to father a child.

Well, they were wrong, weren’t they? she thought defiantly as she sat there, her fingers linking over her gently swelling stomach. He had fathered a baby, and next week, after she’d had her ultrasound, she would know if it was a boy or a girl. She hoped it was a boy. And she hoped he was just like Godfrey!

‘I can see you’re not in the mood for chit-chat,’ Harvey said quietly from her side. ‘I just wanted to say I think you’re great and I hope everything turns out well for you. But if it doesn’t and you ever need a shoulder to cry on, give me a call.’

Sophia was touched by the offer and turned a grateful smile his way. ‘That’s very kind of you, Harvey. I’ll remember that. Thank you.’

Harvey patted her wrist and stood up, almost brushing shoulders with Jonathon as he did so.

‘Leaving, are you, Harvey?’ Jonathon said in clipped tones.

Harvey seemed taken aback for a second before glancing at his watch. ‘Not yet,’ he returned. ‘I was just going to get myself another glass of wine.’

‘No more for Sophia,’ Jonathon ordered brusquely, glaring down at her near empty glass.

‘That’s up to her, isn’t it?’

Sophia was thinking the very same thing.

‘Jonathon,’ his mother interrupted, materialising by his side and thereby saving the awkward moment. ‘Why don’t you put some music on? Something nice and relaxing. Mozart, I think. You like Mozart, don’t you Sophia? You were playing him the other day.’

‘I adore Mozart,’ she agreed. ‘He was Godfrey’s favourite composer.’

Ivy’s sigh was wistful. ‘Of course…You know, I played him Mozart from the day he was born. It always put him to sleep.’

‘Mozart would put anyone to sleep,’ Jonathon muttered, his irritation obvious as he stalked over to the stereo and started flipping through the CDs.

‘Don’t take any notice of Jonathon,’ Ivy whispered as she sat down next to Sophia. ‘For some reason he’s always been a little jealous of Godfrey. Lord knows why. Poor Godfrey wasn’t born with any of his brother’s natural advantages. He was a sickly child, whereas Jonathon never even got colds. I couldn’t count the number of nights I had to spend sitting up with Godfrey, especially when he had asthma.’

Sophia began thinking that maybe Jonathon was jealous, not of Godfrey himself, but all the love and attention his mother obviously lavished on her older son. She’d never had any brothers and sisters herself, but she could well imagine it must be very hard growing up knowing a brother or sister was favoured over you. Still, it seemed Godfrey’s father had favoured his second son so maybe the love and attention bit was balanced out in the end.

Mozart’s Flute and Harp Concerto in C major brought a brief end to any conversation as its pristine notes cut through the drawing-room. Jonathon’s choice sent Sophia’s heart squeezing tight, plus a host of vivid memories to the forefront of her mind. She almost expected to look over at the empty armchair opposite and see Godfrey materialise, his head tipping back and his eyes closing as they did whenever he listened to this particular piece.

‘Aah,’ Ivy sighed next to her. ‘What magic…what bliss…’

Sophia gritted her teeth against the unexpected pain the music was evoking, knowing she could hardly ask for it to be turned off. But she couldn’t help grimacing a little as she glanced over towards the stereo. Jonathon turned around at that moment and their eyes met, Sophia shivering at the austere hardness in his face as he walked back towards her.