I think I'd only read this once before; it didn't stick in my mind particularly.
I don't particularly like Sophy herself. I think if I knew her in real life I'd be a bit eye-rolly. She certainly has more male friends than female and that isn't surprising in the world she inhabits (literally and socially). She is quite like the eponymous Emma and her oh-so-surprising borderline incestuous final marriage isn't terribly different from that novel either. Obviously it isn't a copy but there are other parallels.
And as Casey pointed out, we never see inside her head. Every other heroine we hear her voice in the narration; but we only hear what is happening to Sophy, not what she thinks. Obviously we can sometimes guess, but Heyer keeps her an enigma. Is this because she's actually improbable and Heyer couldn't keep it all straight? I begin to wonder.
We don't hear much of the inside of Charles' head either, except when he is arguing dealing with Miss Wraxton and we hear that she has unwittingly goaded him into the opposite of his usual opinion. The ineffectual father, from whom one cannot wrest the reins but would dearly love to, is a common theme but most clearly described in this novel. Charles is stuck between a rock and a hard place - if he holds the pursestrings tight he will be resented by all his family; if he does not they will be ruined. Of course he spends money when it's worth it, but only because he knows what there is and how it works. He frequently goes to Ombersley or his own estate, so he is a close manager, but one wonders whether he wouldn't rather just go riding (we're told he lives in riding gear whenever possible) and sod it.
He is lovely to the littler children though. There's a nice bit where they are rather awe-struck at his dress for the ball, and he's so touched (because he knows he will be outshone) that he gets the servant to take ices up to the schoolroom later. A nice little touch, very realistic and very loving.
I find the crippling debt, entail and convenient legacy all a bit contrived, particularly after Arabella where there is a similar legacy but fictional. It's as though Heyer filed it away for future re-use. Charles obviously needs to be personally wealthy for various reasons not the least of which is to qualify to marry Sophy. I don't think we ever meet a hero who is poorer than his heroine - is that Heyer's prejudice/preference, or a realistic portrayal of Regency life? We often find young men who are "hanging out for an heiress" and that's not frowned upon ... Actually, what on earth am I talking about. ADAM DEVERIL. But by the end of the novel he's also independently wealthy, and the value of the land is never quite mentioned, so that's perhaps not quite the same.
I adore Sir Horace. He is quite like the young blades we've enjoyed in other novels (actually, he reminds me of Pelham or Sherry). Here's a typical moment from him:
"I don't expect to be away for very long, but I can't take my little Sophy, and I can't leave her with Tilly because Tilly's dead. Died in Vienna, couple of years ago. A devilish inconvenient thing to do, but I daresay she didn't mean it."
That's the kind of inside-out and self-centred nonsense we get from Heyer's young heroes, and we usually love it. Sir Horace must have something about him to be employed as he is, but we absolutely don't see it. I love that. He must be like those scientific geniuses who leave their keys on the bus and don't remember to have dinner.
Charlburys' mumps are vastly amusing. He keeps getting the blame for catching them - given what we know about their potentially sterilising effect on adult men, are they deliberate? Couldn't it have been scarlet fever or smallpox (disfiguring) or something? Did they know it did that? Did Heyer?
Thinking about social expectations again, there is quite a telling scene between Lady Ombersley and Cecilia in which Lady O begins:
"In short, Cecilia - and I should not be obliged to say this to you - persons of our order do not marry only to please themselves."
Cecilia was silenced, and could only hang down her head, dabbing her eyes with an already damp handkerchief. [...] Cecilia might read novels, but she knew that the spirited behaviour of her favourite heroines was not for her to imitate.
Later Miss Wraxton makes a similar speech to Charles, which appals him even though it's true. She is an idiot to spell out that she is marrying him for social and filial reasons, but we are left in no doubt as to the crushing obligations of the time.
I love the exchange between Charles and Sophy about Miss Wraxton's looks:
"Since you have brought up Miss Wraxton's name, I shall be much obliged to you, Cousin, if you will refrain from telling my sisters that she has a face like a horse!"
"[...]Yes, indeed, but you have quite misunderstood the matter. I meant a particularly well-bred horse. [...] I am very fond of horses!" Sophy said earnestly.
"[...]Selina, who repeated the remark to me, is not fond of horses, however, and she-"
"I expect she will be, when she has lived in the same house with Miss Wraxton for a month or two," said Sophy encouragingly.
Honestly, how dare she! What a cow!
The Goldhanger scene is uncomfortable, definitely. I think that's because there's just no need. We get told about "the Jews" in many if not most of the novels, and it is certainly not the first or last time we will encounter a moneylender, but I agree there's no need to be quite so indulgently racist. He can be an unpleasant man without being a caricature.
Poorly Amabel is a very good bit. We need it to see that Sophy is capable of putting her own thoughts aside for others' needs because frankly she isn't always brilliant at that, and it gives certain of the others, notably Charlbury, a chance to shine. But also it does remind us how precarious life was at the time and how terrifying parenthood must have been as a result.
In The Grand Sophy we get definitely the best marriage proposal of any of the novels - there are other funny ones elsewhere, but He took Sophy's throat between his hands, pushing up her chin. "Will you marry me, vile and abominable girl that you are?" has got to be up there. Frankly I don't know what he sees in her but there you go.
We talked in Arabella or possibly earlier about Regency euphemisms for pregnancy. Here there is a funny one, re Lady Ombersley: "[T]he dutiful presentation to her erratic and far from grateful spouse of eight pledges of her affection had long since destroyed any pretensions to beauty in her." Now quite apart from the delicacy of "pledges of her affection" we are reminded of the duty and the danger and physical toll of motherhood, all in one short and witty line. Heyer is a GENIUS I tells ya.
And finally, dealing with Miss Wraxton's primness, Sophy's vigour, and Heyer's wit all at once, I ADORED the following exchange:
"Eugenia never wears modish gowns. She says there are more important things to think of than one's dresses."
"What a stupid thing to say!" remarked Sophy. "Naturally there are; but not, I hold, when one is dressing for dinner."
It made me think of all those people on MN who quote "first world problems" when someone's worrying about own clothes day at primary school...
