Page 1 of The Gentlewoman Companion (The Gentlewoman #4)

Dearest Mama,

You will never guess what I have done or where I am. If you were alive, would I dare tell you? If you were alive, I believe none of this would have happened. They say we become angels upon death. If you are an angel, surely you are my guardian. Yet, I feel dreadfully alone.

Since you left us, Father has been very distracted and morose. I did not know he was such a tyrant. Has he always been this way? Did you protect me from him?

Some months ago, Father informed me he’d arranged my marriage to a stranger whom he failed to name.

When Aunt Mary heard Father’s plans and saw my distress, she decided to help me find a love match.

She took me to Bath and introduced me to every unattached man who could breathe.

In particular, she seemed determined I should form an attachment to a Mr. Fletcher, with whom we became acquainted.

Although Mr. Fletcher was certainly a perfect gentleman, I found his conversation tiresome and was horrified at his age compared to my youth.

I simply did not want to marry Mr. Fletcher.

I was trapped and scared, and no one listened to me or seemed to care that I was suffocating from everyone’s endless expectations. I took matters into my own hands.

Mother, I ran away and tried to elope.

Why?

I ask because I can scarcely believe what a great dobeck I am and how absent my judgment. It frightens me that I hopped into a man’s carriage in the dead of night, full of anticipation, with very little thought or feeling urging me otherwise.

Tobias Savage thought me beautiful, laughed at nearly everything I said, and spoke endlessly of how stifling society was—and I agreed heartily. Most of all, he promised me freedom on a peaceful estate. Can you blame me for finding such a prospect alluring?

You warned me my rashness would be my undoing, but I had to choose something for myself rather than be forced. Though I never loved him, Mr. Savage persuaded me that he loved me.

The truth is he intended to ruin me and afterward take me to Father and demand my dowry. He was so deeply in debt that no father, however neglectful, would allow his daughter to marry him if she were not compromised first. Imagine! He told me all this while pressing gin-drenched kisses to my neck.

Know that I escaped before he took my innocence, for I locked that man out of the room.

The innkeeper, bless him forever, would not allow him to break the door.

But that man would lie on the ground and shout terrible words I’d never heard in a voice fraught with loathing.

I believed myself worthless, a prisoner of my own awful, ignorant decision.

I am certain I’d have died if the innkeeper’s wife had not slipped food under the door while that man was refreshing his cup.

On the third day, I became furious, knowing I did not deserve his wrath, for he had lied to me about his every intention. Mama, to escape, I threw the contents of my chamber pot under the door while his filthy lips shouted obscenities. Yes, and it worked!

Then, it was just Nellie and me. Do you remember Nellie?

She was Aunt Mary’s maid, but she loyally attended me when I made the Great Misjudgment.

The innkeeper’s wife had warned her to stay away from my room, lest that man’s fury fall upon her.

Though she could do little to protect me, at least I was not left wholly alone.

We were stranded at the inn, not knowing what to do, until the innkeeper’s wife informed us that Lady Halverton, a countess who did not live far, needed a lady’s maid.

I thought I could do the job. That last year I spent helping you dress and putting your hair up convinced me I could. You should know that though you were ill, those memories are some of my most precious.

Nellie and I walked to Lundbrooke to seek positions with Lady Halverton. When we approached, I nearly lost my breath. It is the grandest house I have ever beheld. Square and stately with an east wing and a west wing, three stories on top, surrounded by gardens and gardens and fields and fields.

We applied to the housekeeper then spoke with Lady Halverton, who is like a glowing fire on a rainy day and made me feel restful for the first time in weeks.

She is stately and beautiful and cannot be much past forty.

Without knowing much about us at all, she sent a footman for our trunks.

Almost, I threw my arms around her and wept.

But then we began our duties, I as a lady’s maid and Nellie a housemaid.

I was tolerable with Nellie’s help and did my best for almost a fortnight. One day, Lady Halverton found me weeping over my hands, which had become coarse from scrubbing clothes. A silly thing to cry about, considering everything else, I know!

She asked me who I really was and said she suspected something was not right, since no lady’s maid has three trunks. Even if I had thought about that, I could never have left the wardrobe I acquired in Bath at the inn.

Lady Halverton’s question had my heart jumping so violently that I hoped to faint.

When I remained conscious, I didn’t know what else to do but confess part of my story.

I told her I had run away from my terrible father who was forcing me into an unwanted marriage.

Instead of throwing me out, she hired me as a companion, a position that suits me.

Lady Halverton is recently widowed and has but one son to keep her company.

He is stern and serious, and although handsome, he is often gone to London, so I hardly caught glimpses of him during my time as a lady’s maid.

It brought both my Lady and me great comfort to have amiable female companionship.

Although I was quite aware of how such a position may affect my future marital prospects, after my experiences, I had no more wish to marry—and still don’t.

Lady Halverton seemed to believe that my running away from marriage was a great achievement. “Young ladies should do more to assert their independence,” she said. I am fortunate to have happened upon the one woman in all of England who sees my disaster as a triumph.

I was quite comfortable at Lundbrooke for the few days that followed—though Lady Halverton began to insist one of us write to Father and beg him to approve my situation—when one evening a carriage pulled up in front of the house.

It was Mrs. Eliot—you will recall Aunt Mary’s meddlesome friend.

When she walked into the room, I knew my illustrious career as a gentlewoman companion was over.

Mrs. Eliot explained that Mr. Fletcher and Aunt Mary had searched for me after I ran away and were at that time at Mr. Fletcher’s estate. Practically crowing at her part in “rescuing” me, Mrs. Eliot packed me up and took me directly to them.

When I arrived, I discovered that Mr. Fletcher was the man Father had meant me to marry all along .

My father, curse him, had promised Mr. Fletcher’s parents the cottage you left to me.

As they currently inhabit a drafty rubble of a castle, of course they wish to move.

They do not know Stillwater is a mere nothing.

I begged Aunt Mary to let me return to Lady Halverton and continue as her companion, but she said I must marry Mr. Fletcher.

She convinced me the match was what you would have wanted for my happiness.

The following day, Aunt Mary disappeared, leaving me again with no one .

But you will never guess why she left. She fell in love with Mr. Fletcher , despite that she is older than he by more than five years.

Now that I know him better, I understand her affection and am a little in love with him myself after what he did for me.

First, he used his connections to send that man to India. And I am free, free, free of him forever!

The second courtesy Mr. Fletcher extended was to ask me what I wanted; he is the only person in the world ever to direct such a question to me.

I told him bluntly that I did not wish to marry, which was of equal relief to him.

He and my aunt will be very happy together. Yes! He returns her affection.

Mr. Fletcher left immediately to woo my aunt but did not return because—I can scarcely believe it— they eloped !

I suppose something good truly can come out of an elopement, but what a fuss his family made!

They learned the truth by letter, and I suppose will never forgive Mr. Fletcher for his audacity.

Mrs. Eliot and I have been traveling for the better part of a week and will arrive at Lundbrooke tomorrow.

I must confess I am all nerves. Will Lady Halverton question my character after my sudden departure?

Mama, if you are able, please whisper in Lady Halverton’s ear that I will be a fine companion.

Now my worries are spinning. I do not believe the young Lord Halverton knew of my promotion to a lady’s companion before I left with Mrs. Eliot.

He is so proper; what if he does not approve and turns me out?

Even as I write it, I do not believe him capable of such actions.

There is something calm and orderly about him that unnerves me but also makes me want to spill tea on his pristine neckcloth.

Of course, I would never! But perhaps I should not be too quick to make such promises, for I find my native recklessness rearing its head.

Wish me luck as I return to Lundbrooke and my duties tomorrow, Mama.

It feels better to do something than to sit in the discomfort of the Great Misjudgment—may my secret never be discovered.

Love,

Louisa Thorpe, Your loving daughter