Page 17 of The Gentlewoman Companion (The Gentlewoman #4)
Her son, however, remained stern as he guided his mother through the muck.
L ouisa sucked blood from her finger, which she had poked in affixing her mother’s brooch. She was pressing a bit of cotton to stay the blood when Lady Halverton entered her room.
“He is not better,” Lady Halverton said of her son, who suffered a cold resulting from their exodus through the rain three days prior. “Instead of resting, he stomps around his room practicing his speech. I fear he is not well enough to attend the card party.”
Louisa’s insides sank. To celebrate Louisa’s new gowns, Lady Halverton was hosting the promised party.
Halverton’s familiar face would have stilled some of the butterflies that swarmed her chest in anticipation of this venture into society.
Though she had already met most of the guests, she knew they did not see her as their equal because of her position as companion and perhaps because of her Cornish accent.
She wanted them to like her not only so she might forget her Great Misjudgment, but also because Lady Halverton seemed to expect everyone to find Louisa enchanting.
When they did not, Louisa felt she was disappointing her employer.
“By the by, he says your insights helped with his speech,” Lady Halverton said.
“I only pointed out what was obvious.” Having never received praise for her intelligence, Louisa could not accept the compliment.
“He is impressed with you.”
Louisa adjusted the brooch, which she’d pinned artistically on her shoulder.
“Let me see your dress, dear,” Lady Halverton said.
Louisa turned, curtsied, and spun around.
“Beautiful! While one should not think excessively of her attire, she should try to be stunning, if at all possible. That gown becomes you.”
“I fear it is too fine for a card party.”
“Not a bit.”
The robe à la francaise was delicate pink with just enough side hoop to please fashion and a cascading trail of gathered silk down the front. The sleeves fit tight to the elbow then billowed in pleats and lace. It was the finest gown Louisa had ever worn.
“Thank you, my lady. I love it.” That was an understatement.
She adored the gown. It transformed her into a new Louisa Thorpe and gave her hope that she might discard the past and retain this new, if not entirely understood, future.
Though clothing did not make a woman, Louisa felt a bit stronger than before.
Together, they made their way to the drawing room to make certain everything was in order. When they entered, they found Lord Halverton on the settee.
“James, you should be in bed, else you’ll never get well,” Lady Halverton said.
He smiled at his mother but stepped toward Louisa.
He took her hand and pressed his lips to her gloved knuckles.
“Miss Thorpe, how do you do?” His golden eyes focused on hers with so open an expression, so soft a look that his happiness at seeing her bloomed through her middle.
That his gaze did not stray to the elegant gown she wore both annoyed and pleased her.
“I am well, but how are you?” Louisa asked. “Your mother reported you were not improved.”
“My mother thinks I am always on the brink of death, but it would kill me to remain in my room another second.” His nose was a little red, but otherwise, he appeared healthy.
“I should not have suggested we walk in the rain.”
“It is merely a cold.”
“Had I known of your weak constitution, I’d have pressed you to remain in the cottage.” Louisa held her breath. Was that too familiar?
Lord Halverton smiled, and Lady Halverton tittered. Their amusement at her teasing strengthened the tenuous fibers that knit her to them.
From outside, the crunch of gravel indicated the arrival of the first guest.
Lady Halverton took Louisa’s hand and held it high, turning her around. “Doesn’t she look wonderful, James?”
Lord Halverton considered Louisa’s gown—cut much lower than anything else she owned—for a mere second before looking away. “She is right, Miss Thorpe, but between ourselves, you look just as well in my mother’s riding ensemble.”
Louisa became warm and light. It was pleasant that one person approved of her regardless of what she wore.
“James! How dreadful of you. Look at her. She is a paragon of beauty.”
His eyes captured Louisa’s. “You are charming, Miss Thorpe,” he said, but his attention remained on her face. Lord Halverton was proving himself a true gentleman, a kind man.
Louisa sighed, then covered her mouth. It was not a swoon, but a grounding sense of belonging that affected her. It was like cold winter feet finding a hot water bottle beneath the bedclothes.
Guests gathered in the drawing room, a party of fourteen.
A middle-aged vicar and his gentle-faced wife, Mr. and Mrs. Kent, were followed by Lord and Lady Waxpole, Mrs. Trelawney with her daughter Miss Rosamond Trelawney and son Mr. Henry Trelawney, who had fire-red hair and lashless eyes that reminded Louisa vaguely of a pig.
Next came Mr. and Mrs. Lewis and their son, Mr. Alexander Lewis, who was of similar age to Lord Halverton and Mr. Trelawney.
The younger Mr. Lewis resembled his mother, with soft golden curls and an amiable demeanor.
Miss Cron, who came in the Lewis’s carriage, lived with Mrs. Beecham and Miss Fischer.
The sisters had declined the invitation, but Louisa did not know why.
After preliminary introductions and greetings, no one spared Louisa more than a nod, though she really wanted to speak with Miss Trelawney, whose serene countenance gave the impression of self-containment.
Dressed in brocade silk trimmed in velvet ribbon, she bore a cool smile and probably never did anything she regretted.
Through a gold-framed mirror, Louisa watched the image of the party, huddled in twos and threes, laughing, touching, and exchanging news in earnest, intimate tones.
Lady Halverton’s head bent toward Mrs. Trelawney, her fingers wrapped around the other woman’s wrist, sharing confidences to which Louisa would never be privy.
Miss Trelawney lowered her eyes and smiled at the three young gentlemen surrounding her.
Louisa stood apart, more elegantly adorned than anyone in the room save Lady Halverton.
Like starlings, the Halvertons and their guests flew in coordinated precision, each understanding their places—when to lift, when to perch, when to soar—while Louisa was a solitary swift, unable to perch. Silk feathers could not disguise the outsider.
Louisa, who was not timid, tried to shake these thoughts, but this situation was outside her experience.
Where did she belong in this unfamiliar social structure?
She was a gentlewoman, though not as highborn as many others in the room.
Her accent set her apart as did her position in the Halverton household.
Unable to ignore the rising discomfort of standing alone, she ran her hand over the bumpy texture of the lace at her sleeve. Her little finger slipped into a loop, and she watched it wiggle through and weave into another circlet to give the impression she was busy with something important.
A warm hand enveloped her bent elbow. Lord Halverton stood close, almost confidentially. “Miss Thorpe, I hoped you would explain your version of pall mall to the others.”
Despite his imposing nearness, she found his presence improbably calming. A scent, warm and familiar, encompassed her. “Rosemary? From Floris?” she asked.
“Pardon me?”
“Your soap. I recognize it. My…” She cleared her throat. “My mother used to order it from London.” She dropped her arm to her side. He released her elbow, and his hand brushed down her arm. The room felt suddenly hot.
His eyes softened. “Smells are strong containers for memory. Later, I want to hear what this scent recalls for you.”
She could only nod.
“Come.” He led her to the group and said, “The other day, I found Miss Thorpe teaching my mother a most diverting game.” He described what he had seen, and it tickled Louisa to hear it from his perspective. “Tell us the rules, Miss Thorpe.”
She cast aside her doubts, buoyed by Lord Halverton and Miss Cron’s encouraging smile, and launched into a lengthy description of a very foolish, simple game.
Lord Halverton laughed when she told them that participation was not without risk: broken windows, a bruised passer-by, loss of dignity.
Everyone gasped and exclaimed in all the right places.
She sent a grateful smile in Lord Halverton’s direction for his including her.
Lady Halverton clapped her hands. “We have faro, whist, and speculation.” She indicated the corresponding tables.
“Lord Halverton, lead your young friends to speculation. Lord Waxpole and Mr. Trelawney, I know you will want to play faro while the ladies and I play whist. Mr. and Mrs. Kent, you may go whichever direction pleases you.”
The party dispersed to their allotted stations.
Louisa waited until Miss Trelawney and Miss Cron claimed their seats before moving to take the empty chair between Mr. Kent and Mr. Alexander Lewis, both of whom, along with Lord Halverton and Mr. Henry Trelawney, stood until the ladies settled. Louisa swallowed hard and sat.
Lady Halverton had reshaped Louisa into someone unfamiliar, even to herself.
While the change was freeing, it left her in a quandary.
She was not certain if she should articulate her own thoughts or what she imagined her mistress expected her to say.
How much of herself could she reveal? She sat quietly, trying to emulate Miss Trelawney.
She wished she could speak across the table to Miss Cron about Havenwood or to Miss Trelawney about her fashionable dress, but she worried idle conversation might not be tolerated during a game.