Miss Landon and Aubranael

Part 19

There's a sorry state to be in, an' no mistake. Miss Sophy was in a deal o' trouble, poor lass, but she's no fine lady as wilts at the drop of a hat.

As if to illustrate this point, Balligumph drops his fine hat into the dust of the road—and then hastily scrambles to pick it up again. He winks broadly, and with a throaty chuckle, continues:

Ye may be thinkin' this is all gettin' a mite complicated-like. People pretendin' to be someone else entirely, an' poor Sophy not knowin' who she's talkin' to—nor me neither! Ye'd be right, but I warn ye: that's nothin'. Here's where everythin' really gets complicated.

I had another visit from Miss Sophy, an' she was all rarin' to put her plans into action. Didn't have the first idea o' where to start, mind, but that never stopped her!

Three days after the death of Mr. Landon, Sophy made her way once more to Balligumph's bridge. She was in a calmer state of mind, though still troubled and sorrowful. Wearing borrowed mourning-clothes, and with a black ribbon hastily applied to her summer bonnet, she knew she made a sorry sight in Tilby.

This concerned her little, however, for her goal was now to leave Tilby as soon as she could possibly arrange to do so.

'There's my favourite lady,' said Balligumph when she arrived at the bridge. Every feature of his great round face spoke of sympathy and compassion, and his voice was full of warm affection. It was enough to bring a lump into Sophy's throat.

'Good morning!' she said in a cheery tone. 'Dear Mr. Balligumph, it is always such a pleasure to see you.'

He looked kindly upon her for that statement, and winked. 'Aye, that I know! I'm thinkin' this is no social call, however; ye've that purposeful look in yer eyes.'

Sophy smiled ruefully. 'How disappointing to be so transparent! You are perfectly right, however. I am come with a request.'

Balligumph leaned closer to her, tilting his great head in a listening gesture.

'It is about Aylfenhame,' Sophy said, feeling curiously nervous as she said it. 'I meant what I said before. My prospects are limited in every direction: I must make my own living, I fear, but I have few means to do so. Sewing must be my rescue; but to take up that profession here! It would be insupportable.'

'Now, it may not be so very bad! Why should you say so?'

Sophy sat down upon the bridge, taking care not to dirty or tear her borrowed skirts. She leaned against Balligumph for comfort as she spoke. 'To make one's living with the needle is not a respected profession in England; that you must know! And to sink so far beneath society—to do so here, where I have always lived, always been known—it would be an endless source of misery to me. And I hardly know how I would contrive to support myself. But in Grenlowe! Their regard for finery seemed to me to be so very considerable, I have some hopes of better prospects there.'

'An' ye liked Grenlowe, that I recall,' said Balli, nodding thoughtfully. 'It ain't a simple matter, that's the truth, but it may be managed. Let me think a moment.'

He sat in thought for some minutes. Sophy felt no impatience; she was too tired for that. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of warmth on her face and the fresh breeze against her skin, until Balli spoke again. 'I think I may know someone who can help,' he said, a statement which set Sophy's heart leaping. 'I can't promise, mind! But if ye wish to pursue it—'

'I do, I do!' Sophy interrupted eagerly.

He chuckled, and patted her head. 'Aye, very well. I can send ye back to Aylfenhame—though it won't be so easy nor so pleasant as the last time—an' a guide will take ye to the friend I have in my mind. Ye must put the case to her, and I can't promise she will help, but she may, if she likes ye. An' if ye mention my name, that might not be an awfully bad idea neither.'

A relieved, joyous smile came to Sophy's face—the first real, unfeigned one in days—and she thanked Balligumph with all the most fervent language at her disposal. He actually seemed embarrassed, and waved her gratitude away with a few muttered syllables as the blue skin over his cheeks darkened a shade or two. 'No promises, remember that!' he said. 'I wouldn't like ye to be too disappointed, if it weren't to come off.'

Sophy agreed to it; she would have agreed to anything, if it furthered her aim.

'Do ye wish to go right away?' Balli asked.

Sophy considered this. She was tempted to say yes, to leave at once; the sooner she secured some future to herself that she could welcome—that she could even tolerate—the sooner her troubled mind would be at peace. But there remained some matters that required her attention. She could not in conscience simply abandon Mary and Thundigle without notice, not even for a few days.

She relayed this to the troll, and he nodded wisely. 'Well, now,' he said when she'd finished. 'Given our last conversation, I had a thought that you might be needin' this.' He fetched a little glass sphere from a pocket—the same as the one he had given her before—and offered it to her. 'So I put my hands on another. Here, take it. Ye may use it whenever ye feel ready.'

Sophy took it, with more profuse thanks which Balli waved away. She tucked the little sphere into her reticule, and drew the string tightly to secure the precious object inside.

'I will find a way to repay you, someday,' she said to Balligumph.

He found that amusing, or perhaps he was merely delighted; an enormous grin split his face and he gave a great, rumbling laugh. 'Ye're a good woman,' he pronounced, administering another heavy pat on the head. 'Ye'll be all right.'

Sophy fervently hoped so. The flutter in the pit of her stomach suggested otherwise, but she was growing used to ignoring it.