Page 44 of The Gentlewoman Companion (The Gentlewoman #4)

Chapter Twenty-One

L ady Halverton’s drawing room was absent of card playing and heads bent in gossip.

Hot chocolate filled the cups of attendees, rather than ratafia or champagne.

Lady Halverton was dedicating the evening to profound intellectual discussion, and not even the most prominent had refused her invitation.

With an intent to promote deeper discussions and firmer camaraderies, the chairs were arranged in unexpected clusters of five and contained thirty guests.

Buoyant at having saved Charles from his debt and herself from ruin, Louisa was unintimidated by the prestigious collection of scholars, musicians, and philosophers surrounding her.

She felt equal to anything, though perhaps not to the ensemble to which she had been assigned, as the subject of their discourse did not interest her.

But Lady Halverton would soon announce a shuffling of the groups.

Louisa and three others listened to Mr. Stillingfleet explain Linnaean taxonomy at the request of Mrs. Albert, who was a fellow botanist. Mr. Stillingfleet, who had come straight from his research and neglected to change to formal white, was clad in his notorious blue stockings. He withdrew a page from a portfolio.

“The classification is shown here.” He pointed to the words and read them aloud, “Kingdom: Plantae. Plant kingdom.”

“We are not so dense, Mr. Stillingfleet. While not all study Latin, we can reason the meaning,” said Mrs. Albert.

Louisa stifled a yawn.

“Yes, of course.” He read the next line, “Phylum: Angiospermae,” and showed an illustration of flowering plants beside the line. He explained the class, order, family, and genus. “Until we finally arrive to,” he turned the page around, dramatically, “species: the English rose.”

The delicate pink of the rose matched the silk of Louisa’s gown.

She sipped her chocolate, voices becoming an indistinct hum as she recalled the rose garden at Lundbrooke.

She had not dared think that James might ask her to be mistress of that grand estate.

But he was a man of deep integrity, certainly not one to trifle with her feelings.

Was it possible that one day she, Louisa Thorpe, would be mistress of Lundbrooke?

The preparations for Lady Halverton’s salon had so occupied Louisa that she had not communicated with James beyond cursory greetings since their kiss. That kiss . The memory burned her ears. But it had happened.

Though not within her sight, she knew precisely where he was, seated near the pianoforte. Unlike her, he was probably listening intently, asking questions, and seeking to understand whoever was speaking.

Those around Louisa clapped, jarring her to the present. She joined the clapping, then concealed another yawn.

“You, Miss…?” Stillingfleet spoke to her.

“Thorpe, sir.” If he quizzed her on his little chart, she was ready.

“You are bored by this discussion?” It was barely a question.

“Oh! I enjoy botany immensely as an observer of nature, but I own taxonomy is a subject too new for me to appreciate.” One could not sit unnoticed in so intimate a circle. She swallowed another yawn. She was still recovering from the late night spent calming Susan in the study.

“Pray, what do you find interesting?” asked Mrs. Albert with genuine interest.

“She can drive a carriage to an inch!” This from a young lady across from Louisa who blushed crimson when the group turned to her. Their attention lasted only as long as the short sentence. Expectant eyes fell upon Louisa.

“I learned to drive on the Halverton estate.” She intentionally used her benefactor’s name and arranged her features—serene smile, soft eyes. Benign.

“A young lady cut me off in Hyde Park just the other day,” said an elderly gentleman, his considerable mustache drooping with consternation.

How unfortunate he should be sitting next to her. Should she apologize or feign ignorance?

“That was you, Miss Thorpe, was it not?” The young woman leaned toward her.

With the decision out of her hands, Louisa confessed and apologized.

“You may race around the countryside as much as you please, but in London, we practice restraint.” The old man thudded his cane twice.

“I am impressed with a young lady who manages horses so well,” said Mrs. Albert. “We must not judge her misdemeanor before we understand her motives. Miss Thorpe, what urgent matter led you to fly around the park with unseemly haste?”

“I claim no sufficient motive. Frustration, a sentiment I seek to bridle, urged me on.”

“Evidence that women are too emotional to be given the reins,” the old man said.

The reproof stung. “I believed this a group of progressive thinkers. While I own my behavior was rash, I declare it was noted more because of my gender than speed. Indeed, I was exasperated because another carriage, driven by a gentleman, went along faster than I, but he received nary a glance, whereas my keeping up with him was censured.”

“I was not cut off by a gentleman.”

“Yet he cut off as many people as I did. Have you never made a mistake in the clutches of anger?” she asked, heart pounding, unable to stop her tongue.

The old man began blustering. “Well, I…not?—”

“Hush, Siegfried. She didn’t kill you.” Mrs. Albert said. “I find this fascinating. Why do we so often judge men and women differently when presented with similar circumstances?”

They talked for some time of their preconceived notions of the genders, each sharing examples of men and women who acted against those generalizations.

When they began to discuss the subservience and obedience of women, the young lady across from Louisa gave an unfortunate contradiction.

“Miss Thorpe fled her father when he arranged her marriage rather than obey his will.”

Heavens. Was this young lady sent to air all—or almost all—Louisa’s bad behavior?

“My, you are daring.” Mrs. Albert punctuated the statement by blowing a puff of air from rounded lips.

“Daring, perhaps. Foolish, no doubt.” This from Mr. Stillingfleet.

“When the situation is taken objectively, scientifically, no one will agree so drastic an action can be beneficial for familial peace. Young ladies who flee the wisdom of their parents do not benefit society. Far better that such a one accept the marriage her father thinks best for her.”

“Marriage is not scientific!” The young lady blustered.

“I declare, Stillingfleet, that is a hard attitude.” She turned redder with every word but pressed on.

“As others have said, you are not taking circumstances into account. Scientifically , no English rose, however strong its roots, will survive if transferred to indifferent soil.”

“Well spoken, Miss Frances,” said Mrs. Albert. “However, to Mr. Stillingfleet’s point, we may draw lessons from Clarissa . I expect everyone has read it. Her circumstances certainly did not improve when she chose to reject her father’s wishes.”

Louisa’s breath came shallowly, but she would not allow herself to be slighted or misrepresented.

Only the day before, she had saved her brother and her own reputation, a feat that required courage and strength of will.

She, Louisa Thorpe, a sometimes impulsive and always an insignificant young chit from Cornwall, had found the wherewithal to bargain with a jeweler, deal with a moneylender, and most difficult, reason with her underserving brother.

She would not sit by without defending herself.

“From that novel,” she said, “we learn the damage forceful parents have on their children. There is no question Clarissa made a great misjudgment, but she was right to object to the odious Mr. Solmes. Her greedy parents were as much to blame for her fate as she was.”

“Novels!” the mustached man cut in. “The incalculable damage done by twaddle that puts ideas into young people’s heads, causing them to run away from their parents and gallop through Hyde Park.”

“I beg your pardon, sir.” Louisa’s voice was firm. “Perhaps if at seventeen your parents had chosen for you a forty-five-year-old bride with seven children, you might sympathize.”

He turned a derisive eye on her. “Younger women often marry older men to propagate the family line.”

Heat ignited the roots of Louisa’s hair.

“If women are so minimized, it stands to reason the only use for men is to feed and shelter women and children. Thus, a young man’s marriage to a mother and widow makes perfect sense.

” Her chest heaved. The ribbons adorning her cuffs were in tatters, but she was pleased at having said her piece.

Across the room, Lady Halverton stood, serene and stately, beautiful in floral brocaded silk. The room fell silent at her command. Louisa felt her immense fortune at having her as a mentor and began to hope she would someday emulate the poise and magnetism her mistress possessed.

“Let us now change places.” Lady Halverton clapped, and the party began moving to different circles.

Louisa saw James and walked toward him but was intercepted by the young lady who’d announced her indecorous behavior in Hyde Park.

“You must teach me to drive, Miss Thorpe.”

“Certainly, if your mother approves.”

The young lady’s face fell, and Louisa excused herself to seek James. A hand wrapped around her arm. Miss Trelawney, smiling as if it was not her fault the whole world was discussing Louisa’s bad decisions.

“Come.” She pulled Louisa into a chair next to her and introduced her to the two young ladies who had helped spread the news of Louisa’s flight from her father.

They were all friendliness and interest, inviting her to a ball, but Louisa, thinking only of James, caught his eye and smiled. He only half returned her grin. Crossing his arms, he leaned back, his mouth becoming a firm line as his brow tensed.

Did he regret their kiss? Frigid doubt constricted Louisa’s chest. Had she misunderstood his intentions?

It was not possible. He had said he adored her face and admired her courage. He was the most trustworthy person she knew, a man of principle and integrity. He would not mislead her.

But hadn’t she raised her mouth to his?

Oh, Mama! Have I done it again? Have I misjudged a man’s affection?

The evening passed in a distracted blur of doubt and analysis, furtive glances at Lord Halverton, and asking her companions to repeat themselves but comprehending nothing.

When the guests departed, Lady Halverton urged Louisa and James to the parlor and quizzed them as to the success of the evening.

After they had each praised her preeminent hosting and the intellectual conversation, Lady Halverton announced she would retire early and excused herself with a kiss to each, glancing between the two with a knowing look before leaving them alone.

Louisa could not suffer more than a second of silence. “Did you enjoy the evening, my lord?”

“I did, though I wished to sit near you.”

Oh! Perhaps her concerns were a mere nothing. “I tried to approach but was endlessly waylaid.”

He nodded in understanding. “You aren’t wearing your brooch this evening.”

He’d noticed. Could he somehow know what she’d done? Impossible. But his stern look seemed to indicate more than an offhand interest. Her heart thudded. Was the truth too risky? Would he judge her for her brother’s behavior? For her own?

He tapped his glass and shifted away from her.

“I sold it.” The words burst out of her.

“Whatever for?” He turned toward her, all sympathy and concern, validating her choice to confess.

Her words released some of the thrumming weight that pulsed inside her, relaxing the ever-present tightness in her stomach. She could tell him some of the truth. “My brother was deeply in debt and feared being apprehended, so I sold my mother’s brooch and paid the moneylender.”

His face grew hard. “I would have helped you, had you told me. I thought that after…” He pressed his hands against his eyes. “Do you understood how much I care for you? I hoped you would trust me.”

It had never occurred to her to share this problem with him.

How could she when, told in its entirety, it exposed the very thing he could never discover: her worst deed?

Even if he hadn’t learned the truth, the last thing she wanted was Lord Halverton and Charles speaking together.

The very idea brought a return of that unbearable ache to her middle.

“I did not consider it. It was my problem alone, and I was fully capable of dealing with it—so I did.” Hadn’t the books she’d read and the discussions she’d participated in all taught her to emulate such independence?

To seize control, not in the foolish way she’d done when she’d tried to elope, but to use her resources to offer sympathy and kindness.

His sigh tugged at her center. “Alone? Is that how you see yourself in connection to me? I ask for your help, consider your opinion. I let you know what is happening in my life, but you are closed and unyielding. I want to know you, and for you to know me. It cannot be one-sided.”

She would never tell him of the Great Misjudgment, but there were things she did want to release and felt safe to impart: The pain at having been so easily dismissed by her father.

The echoing ache for her mother. The sorrow of Charles and his bad habits, his yellowing skin and shaking hands.

She yearned to discharge the emotions that distanced her from James, but they were bound too powerfully to untether.

With feelings so massive, the sky was not vast enough to contain them, and she could not isolate the parts of herself that were safe enough to reveal.

“I cannot make you speak, but I hope you will learn to confide in me.” He looked at her with an expectation she could not meet.

“I want to explain.” Her voice hitched. “But it is a practice I am unaccustomed to. Goodnight, my lord.” She darted from the room, sobbing.

She heard his footsteps pounding after her. “Louisa.”

She faced him but covered her face with her hands.

He pulled her hands to his chest. “We have time. I will wait as long as it takes.”

“You will be disappointed,” she wept. “I am not worth the effort.” She wrenched herself free and ran up the stairs, not stopping when he called after her.