Read Online The Temporary Betrothal by Lily George - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lily George
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garden that would surely begin budding soon with warmer weather, and continued
up Bennett Street, past the gracious, aloof Assembly Rooms. A month or so from
now, Amelia would begin attending functions at these rooms with her father, and
perhaps with Lucy as her chaperone.
It was beginning to smell like spring, the scent of moist earth
and leaves filling the air. For some reason, it smelled of home—like working in
the miniscule garden with Harriet at Tansley Cottage. Sophie blinked back sudden
homesick tears. Yes, Bath was becoming more familiar, but Tansley would always
be home.
When they arrived at the church, it was already crowded with a
mixture of Bath Society and the lowlier masses, all milling about the narthex,
greeting each other with nods and smiles. What a relief Lucy had come, for
otherwise, she might feel quite lost in this crush of people. The lieutenant was
nowhere in sight. Sophie fought to keep the disappointment from showing on her
face as they chose seats in the pews near the rear of the church.
“Chin up, chicken,” Lucy whispered. “I feel certain we shall
see your lieutenant soon.”
Sophie shook her head. It was no concern of hers whether or not
he was here. As the crowd settled, the organ and choir struck up the opening
notes of the hymn. Sophie absorbed the atmosphere of the church, the soaring
music, the voices united in song. Tall white tapers glowed, casting a gentle
light over two lush bouquets of roses that framed the altar.
The reverend stepped up to the pulpit and began preaching on
the Beatitudes, his strong, dynamic voice commanding her full attention.
Usually, when she was forced to listen to a long explanation of any kind, her
mind would drift. She’d begin thinking of her dress, or a dress she’d like to
make, roaming the fields of her imagination. But the reverend’s words were
entirely captivating.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of
Heaven.” Here was an entirely new view of heaven and spirituality. Sophie sat up
straighter, her senses attuned to his every word. Why, all those months when she
and Harriet felt abandoned and alone, all those times when want and poverty
stared them in the face—they were never completely forsaken. Sophie blinked.
They were never entirely alone. How comforting, and how profound, to know that
He was there, and cared for them all the time.
A glow kindled her heart, and she glanced out over the
congregation. Was anyone else feeling the same spiritual uplift that she was
experiencing at that moment? Some parishioners nodded in agreement, others
looked rather uncomfortable, still others simply stared ahead, glassy-eyed. Lucy
was drumming her fingers on the hymnal. Why, no one seemed to be as enthralled
as she was. How very strange. Why wasn’t anyone else as moved as she was, as
captivated by the thought of not being alone as she was?
Something pulled her eyes from the reverend’s smiling face. She
turned slightly to her left, focusing on the pews near the altar. And there he
was. Lieutenant Cantrill was looking directly at her, his dark eyes and thin
face reflecting an inner spark, as though he, too, were on fire from the healing
words of the sermon. But for once in her life, she could not summon a coquettish
smile or even a flirtatious dimpling. Something profound passed between her and
the lieutenant, and she was powerless to turn away.
When at last Lieutenant Cantrill flicked his glance away from
her, Sophie cast her eyes down to her lap. Her hands trembled and a feeling, not
unlike butterflies fluttering in a spring garden, settled in the pit of her
stomach. She heard not a word of the rest of the service, and merely mouthed the
words to the last hymn.
Lucy leaned over. “Well, I think I see your lieutenant,” she
whispered. “That fellow with the dark hair and eyes has been staring at you for
most of the service. Is that him?”
Sophie nodded.
“Are you quite all right? You look terribly
garden that would surely begin budding soon with warmer weather, and continued
up Bennett Street, past the gracious, aloof Assembly Rooms. A month or so from
now, Amelia would begin attending functions at these rooms with her father, and
perhaps with Lucy as her chaperone.
It was beginning to smell like spring, the scent of moist earth
and leaves filling the air. For some reason, it smelled of home—like working in
the miniscule garden with Harriet at Tansley Cottage. Sophie blinked back sudden
homesick tears. Yes, Bath was becoming more familiar, but Tansley would always
be home.
When they arrived at the church, it was already crowded with a
mixture of Bath Society and the lowlier masses, all milling about the narthex,
greeting each other with nods and smiles. What a relief Lucy had come, for
otherwise, she might feel quite lost in this crush of people. The lieutenant was
nowhere in sight. Sophie fought to keep the disappointment from showing on her
face as they chose seats in the pews near the rear of the church.
“Chin up, chicken,” Lucy whispered. “I feel certain we shall
see your lieutenant soon.”
Sophie shook her head. It was no concern of hers whether or not
he was here. As the crowd settled, the organ and choir struck up the opening
notes of the hymn. Sophie absorbed the atmosphere of the church, the soaring
music, the voices united in song. Tall white tapers glowed, casting a gentle
light over two lush bouquets of roses that framed the altar.
The reverend stepped up to the pulpit and began preaching on
the Beatitudes, his strong, dynamic voice commanding her full attention.
Usually, when she was forced to listen to a long explanation of any kind, her
mind would drift. She’d begin thinking of her dress, or a dress she’d like to
make, roaming the fields of her imagination. But the reverend’s words were
entirely captivating.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of
Heaven.” Here was an entirely new view of heaven and spirituality. Sophie sat up
straighter, her senses attuned to his every word. Why, all those months when she
and Harriet felt abandoned and alone, all those times when want and poverty
stared them in the face—they were never completely forsaken. Sophie blinked.
They were never entirely alone. How comforting, and how profound, to know that
He was there, and cared for them all the time.
A glow kindled her heart, and she glanced out over the
congregation. Was anyone else feeling the same spiritual uplift that she was
experiencing at that moment? Some parishioners nodded in agreement, others
looked rather uncomfortable, still others simply stared ahead, glassy-eyed. Lucy
was drumming her fingers on the hymnal. Why, no one seemed to be as enthralled
as she was. How very strange. Why wasn’t anyone else as moved as she was, as
captivated by the thought of not being alone as she was?
Something pulled her eyes from the reverend’s smiling face. She
turned slightly to her left, focusing on the pews near the altar. And there he
was. Lieutenant Cantrill was looking directly at her, his dark eyes and thin
face reflecting an inner spark, as though he, too, were on fire from the healing
words of the sermon. But for once in her life, she could not summon a coquettish
smile or even a flirtatious dimpling. Something profound passed between her and
the lieutenant, and she was powerless to turn away.
When at last Lieutenant Cantrill flicked his glance away from
her, Sophie cast her eyes down to her lap. Her hands trembled and a feeling, not
unlike butterflies fluttering in a spring garden, settled in the pit of her
stomach. She heard not a word of the rest of the service, and merely mouthed the
words to the last hymn.
Lucy leaned over. “Well, I think I see your lieutenant,” she
whispered. “That fellow with the dark hair and eyes has been staring at you for
most of the service. Is that him?”
Sophie nodded.
“Are you quite all right? You look terribly
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