Page 45 of The Gentlewoman Companion (The Gentlewoman #4)

Chapter Twenty-Two

J ames paced the parlor all morning, waiting for Louisa to appear. His mother entered, earlier than usual.

“I am off to meet with the Havenwood sisters. We must discuss the events of last night’s salon.”

“Without Louisa?” he asked.

“She is exhausted, poor dear. Let her be, James. By the by, would you like to tell me what is happening between the two of you?”

He sighed. His mother was very perceptive. “I know something is bothering her, and I long to help her, but she will not confide in me.” He continued to pace.

“And you cannot give her your whole heart until she trusts you with all her troubles. Well, you may not wish to know them.”

He turned to face her. “Did she tell you?” The thought both encouraged him and left him feeling betrayed.

“No. But I have no doubt she will explain herself eventually if it is something you need to know.”

“But you agree that something is amiss?”

“I cannot say. She’s had her share of difficulties. Trials take time to overcome, and everyone deals with hardships differently.”

She was speaking of him as well. He was still trying to manage his feelings for his father.

She kissed him goodbye and left him alone.

James responded to letters, visited the nursery, spoke briefly with Meg, and returned to his study. By noon, Louisa had still not descended the stairs.

A knock sounded at the front door. The butler appeared with Mr. Fielding and a scruffy, blond boy.

“Tom!” James went to him and crouched down to the boy’s level. “I am glad you’ve come. Please, sit down.”

“I’ll no’ soil your furni’ure an’ be commi’ed for i’.”

“I am not concerned for my sofa. Please, sit.”

Tom obeyed, resting as little of his body as possible on the edge of the cushion. He rubbed his dirty nose. “The gen’leman says Susan is no’ well.”

“I’ll take you to her as soon as I speak with Mr. Fielding.” James rang for refreshments.

“Not for me, my lord,” Mr. Fielding said. “I must be on my way.”

“Do you have a report on the other cases I paid for?”

“I will send news directly once they are complete.”

The two men bid farewell.

Mrs. Corfield entered and arranged tea and biscuits on the desk. She poured for Tom. “Sugar or milk?”

“Sugar? Yes.” Tom took his cup and sniffed it. “Wha’s this?”

Mrs. Corfield raised a brow with a little more distrust than humor, nodded to James, and left.

“It’s tea and will fortify you,” James said.

“’ow’s Susan?”

“She is well. Let’s go to her now. Here, I’ll carry your teacup.”

They ascended the stairs, with Tom muttering about fine furnishing and cleanliness. “Don’ fre’, chief. I’ll ’ake Susan. I shouldn’ ’ave leff ’er wif you. Poor fing, shu’ in ’ere like a trapped princess.”

“I assure you she is comfortable enough.” But James wondered if the boy would stay. He pushed the nursery door open.

Tom peeked his head in cautiously, as if he expected to be jumped. Susan sat on a wheeled wooden horse while Samuel pushed her. Tom watched the scene, unmoving. The newly hired nursemaid, Miss Ellsworth, tidied a pile of books, and Margaret sat in a corner with a basket of sewing.

Samuel looked up, saw the newcomers, and stopped. “Susan, is that…”

Her gaze fell to Tom. She gasped, fell off the horse but sprang to her feet, rushing to her brother. Tom stepped forward and opened his arms to his sister, whose tiny fingers clutched his ragged coat. James pressed the bridge of his nose to stem the burning in his eyes.

“There, li’le Sue, un’and me.” Tom pried her fingers from his clothes, but she took the hem of his jacket as he entered the room.

Samuel stepped forward, introducing himself and shaking hands.

“’ow are things in this fancy prison?” Tom asked.

“Alrigh’.” Samuel fell into the local accent. “No’ like the Warden. We ’as bread and mea’, fresh milk, even biscuits.”

“I know ’ow ’o escape.” Tom tried to square his shoulders.

“Bu’ you may no’ escape from the Warden a second ’ime. I guess if ’e sees you again, ’e’ll ’ake you back.”

Tom’s face grew serious. “Well, wha’s ado?”

“Come, I’ll show you the ’in soldiers.” Samuel led Tom to a box, dumped out the contents, and began dividing toys. Susan remained connected to her brother, who occasionally reached to pat her head.

Though not the moment to discuss it, James hoped the reunion proved powerful enough to convince Tom to stay with his sister.

James stepped over a doll in the middle of the floor and made his way to sit beside Meg.

“That was a sweet sight. Well done, brother.”

“Gratifying indeed. I hope we can persuade him to remain.”

“Samuel is doing his best.” She lifted her chin toward the two boys deep in their game. “Now that the boy is found, will you take us to Lundbrooke? I feel trapped and useless in this house, and it’s driving me mad.”

He watched her fingers push and pull a needle through white linen with the ease of a practiced hand.

Her cheeks were rounder but pale. Though Samuel did not complain, James knew the boy required fresh air and wide spaces.

James had torn them from the life they knew and replaced it with an extreme shift in comfort and restrictions.

And though he hated to admit it, he and Louisa might benefit from some time apart.

“Almost everything is arranged,” he told Margaret. “Mr. Hunsaker has found someone to take in the two little ones. If you and Samuel will introduce Tom to the idea of coming with us, we may be able to leave as soon as tomorrow or the next day.” Margaret agreed, and he left for his study.

He sent a note to Hugh asking to meet at White’s for dinner, a club where James could bid farewell to his friend in person.

Then he reluctantly summoned Graham. Their interactions had become stiff and impersonal over the weeks, though James tried not to associate their every interaction with doubts about his father.

“My lord.” Graham’s nod was rigid.

“Now we’ve found Tom, we must finalize our preparations to return to Lundbrooke. Will you see that Miss Ellsworth and the children have all they need? Tom requires new clothes. How soon can this all be accomplished?”

“Two days.”

“Excellent.”

“Will your mother be joining you? Miss Thorpe?” A question hung on Miss Thorpe .

“My mother has informed me she will stay in London.”

“Very good.”

James considered his valet and found himself softening.

Graham was a loyal friend who had seen him through so much.

While he may never be ready to hear what Graham knew of the late Lord Halverton’s infidelities, the anger he felt at his valet was diminishing.

He decided to offer an olive branch. In a low voice he said, “I need a little time to think about Miss Thorpe without her distracting presence.”

“Do you, now?” Graham’s eyes danced with that familiar camaraderie. “She’s a sprite and will have you dancing an eternal jig.”

“Hah. That is one way to put it. Thank you, Graham.”

“My lord.” He bowed and was gone.

Later that evening, James sat across from Hugh, eating mutton and drinking port. After a little of their usual friendly banter, he brought up his reason for meeting.

“I’m afraid I’ll be leaving London soon. I wanted to say goodbye in person before I left.”

“Really? Is everything all right?” His gaze was piercing.

“Margaret and Samuel deserve stability and don’t feel comfortable in Mayfair. I will settle them in Stroud, where I can see them frequently. Tom and Susan have a family waiting for them. They’ve all been through a lot of change.”

“Will Lady Halverton and Miss Louisa join you?”

“I spoke to my mother about it previously. She cannot get enough of London. I imagine Louisa will stay with her.”

Hugh sat back and looked around, fidgeting with his napkin.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know if it’s true,” Hugh whispered, “but it’s going to be all over town. There will be those who believe it, even if it isn’t true.”

“Is it so ominous?” James tried to smile.

Hugh’s mouth stretched into a line. “I was here late last night.”

“Gambling, were you?”

“Not really. I intended to convene with a potential business partner, but that is not the point. Mr. Thorpe was there.” He cleared his throat. “He is not a member of the club so must have come with a friend.”

“Louisa’s brother? I thought he left town.”

Hugh sighed and a deep foreboding filtered through James.

“I encountered him on other occasions but had not seen him for weeks. Rumors circulated that he’d run into money troubles, which surprised me little based on the way he lost his head to drink and the heat of a game.” Hugh glanced around again.

“Yes?” James could hardly breathe.

“Mr. Thorpe was good and foxed, and he told a story about his sister.”

“Louisa?”

“He began by announcing to the room that his sister had paid his debts, and he was a free man but would on no account return to Cornwall, as it seems his sister thought he would.”

“Is that all?”

“He blathered on and said a great many things, one of which is that Miss Thorpe—he called her terrible names. He really is a blackguard.”

James gripped the table. “Well?”

Hugh sighed. “He said she left Bath to elope, that the man abandoned her at an inn, and she was forced to become a servant to avoid returning home to her father’s wrath.”

A painful hollow expanded in James. He pushed away his dinner.

“I don’t believe it. The man was intoxicated.

” Even as he said it, doubt seized him. Louisa had hinted over and over about an indiscretion.

What if she hadn’t merely run away from an arranged marriage but had attempted to elope instead?

He felt nearly as betrayed as when he’d discovered the letter in his father’s coat, but he told himself he could not fall into despair without further proof.

Hugh patted James consolingly on the arm. “I don’t believe it either. Even so, people are talking. I thought it best you heard it from me rather than a stranger.”

“I must go.” James shook his friend’s hand and absently invited him to visit Lundbrooke whenever he pleased.

“I’m sorry, old chap.”

James’s footsteps clipped on cobblestone, the sharp clatter giving rhythm to the turmoil in his chest. The cloudy night sky emitted nothing to guide his path while cutting wind threw his cape around him.

He marched toward home, images of Louisa’s smiles once so beguiling morphing into something cruel and unseemly.

There must be another way to understand Hugh’s story. But her own words condemned her. You do not know me. I am far worse than a disobedient daughter.

A group of inebriated young men stumbled past, full of laughter that mocked his foolishness.

He loved her. Loved her. He loved each of her impulsive tricks and wanted a life where anything was possible because Louisa, wild and impetuous, was beside him.

He had scolded her for racing through Hyde Park, but he bloody loved every second.

The vast leaden pit inside him burned with every step closer to his home, where Louisa likely sat beside his mother, who thought of her like a daughter. This news, true or false, would break her heart, but she must be told. Gossip always surrounded Louisa, but this rumor was ruinous.

He found his key, hand trembling and fumbling with the lock. He pushed the door open and stumbled into the hall. Pressing his back against the door, he paused to listen. Quiet. But a glow came from the parlor. He made his way down the hall. Inside, his mother sat reading by candlelight.

“Gracious, James. What is the matter?”

He asked Louisa’s whereabouts.

“She went with Miss Trelawney to a private ball—a last-minute invitation, though I don’t know why she suffers Miss Trelawney’s company. I needed rest after the salon, so I stayed.” She scrutinized him. “What’s happened”

He cleared his throat. “Hugh told me that Louisa’s brother was at White’s the other evening. Drunk and gambling. Mr. Thorpe announced to everyone present that Louisa… She supposedly eloped and was discarded at an inn.”

She set down her book. “Rubbish. You don’t believe that?”

“She has hinted to some grave error she cannot speak of. Well, I no longer need wonder what it is.”

“The poor child! Heavens. But we must not jump to conclusions, James.”

“Mother! She misrepresented herself. We called her courageous for running away from her father, but this…” He sat and put his head between his knees. “She is not who we thought she was, and she won’t survive the scorn it will bring.”

“I won’t allow her to be cast out like Miss Cron.

If we stand by her, she may withstand the inevitable criticism until society finds its next victim.

” She took his hand. “I see how this hurts you. I know you love her, but her story cannot be told in a few sentences by a drunken scoundrel. Give her a chance to speak for herself.”

The sound of the front door opening silenced them both.