Page 8 of The Gentlewoman Companion (The Gentlewoman #4)

Lady Halverton breezed into the room. “My, that color suits you!”

Louisa glanced at the pale blue flowers printed over the mantua she wore. It was a bit faded, but she lacked the will to unpack the more sophisticated wardrobe she had acquired in Bath. Too many memories lurked in the folds of those dresses—a pity because she loved them. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Are you ready? I am very interested to learn your opinion of Havenwood.”

“Havenwood?” Louisa’s insights were not often requested. She made a note to have one.

“The name of Mrs. Beecham and Miss Fischer’s estate—or perhaps farm is a better description.”

In the carriage, Louisa made certain Lady Halverton had everything she might possibly require, which was nothing at all beyond a copy of Mary Astell’s A Serious Proposal to the Ladies.

“Wait!” Louisa said. “My journal. I should fetch it, don’t you think?”

“If you would like to bring it, I am only too pleased to wait.”

In a few minutes, they were on their way. With her notes in hand, Louisa was ready to impress the sisters with the thoughts she’d scribbled. Pressing the book to her, she felt relieved from the pressure to think of something on the spot, should that be required.

“What is so interesting about Havenwood?” Louisa asked as they bumped along the country road.

“Let me tell you a bit of the sisters’ history.

I know they won’t mind.” Lady Halverton leaned back and intertwined her hands in her lap.

“Mrs. Beecham has a terribly scarred face. Smallpox, poor dear. Because of that, no one expected her to find a husband. Miss Fischer was born with a heart condition, you see, which precludes her from bearing children. They were deemed useless to society.” She frowned.

“An unjust sentence. Too high-born for employment, they used sporadic funds sent by their father to set up house in Bath. After some years living in poverty, Mrs. Beecham was approached by a family friend who proposed marriage to her. As her finances were wanting, she accepted.”

“Mrs. Beecham is a widow?” Louisa asked.

“You will hear. After ten months of marriage, something horrendous happened. No one knows what, but it was bad enough that her father and brother came to fetch her away.”

Louisa could not imagine her father and brother lifting a finger to help her. “Not even a hint as to why?” A separation was almost as damning as a divorce, yet Mrs. Beecham must be perfectly respectable, else Lady Halverton would not have befriended her.

“There are rumors, but I do not believe them. It is said that Mr. Beecham tried to poison her, which seems improbable. I only know that in separating, she was bound never to disclose the truth of what happened in exchange for the return of her dowry and two-hundred pounds per annum.”

“And she used the money to buy Havenwood?”

Lady Halverton nodded. “First, the regular income allowed relocation to a finer part of Bath. By and by their niece, a seventeen-year-old girl who was also unmarriageable due to her illegitimacy, came to live with them. Slowly, their home became a haven for unwanted females. Many of their servants have a disability or are, for one reason or another, unemployable.”

The words “unwanted females” reverberated against the knot of fear that lived in Louisa.

If her Great Misjudgment were discovered, she would not even be acceptable for cleaning chamber pots , much less retain her current station.

She was fortunate that Lady Halverton, like her friends, was providing sanctuary for an outcast, but in her case, the employer was ignorant of Louisa’s unsuitability.

Louisa pressed a hand to her middle, trying to quell the dense tangle of dread growing there. No one would find out.

Most likely.

Please, Mama, keep me safe from gossips!

But what if her secret did become known? Charles’s threats lingered in her subconscious. Perhaps she should observe the environment at Havenwood carefully not only to discuss it with Lady Halverton but also to consider what options would be left to her should the worst occur.

Lady Halverton continued. “Miss Fischer dreamt of a self-sufficient female community. They used Mrs. Beecham’s dowry to purchase property and began farming. Havenwood is a beehive of industry. They study, exercise, and work in the garden and with their needles. You shall see.”

“This vision of Miss Fischer’s became a reality, then?” Louisa could scarce conceive two women purchasing and working their own land.

“Quite successfully.”

The carriage stopped in front of a square farmhouse made beautiful by a veil of wisteria cascading from a thatched roof. Diamond-paned windows blinked cheerfully from its redbrick exterior.

They were ushered inside the parlor, where the sisters greeted them. Lady Halverton had not exaggerated Mrs. Beecham’s scars. Deep welts covered her cheeks, but she wore a cheerful pink-striped gown and a snowy lace cap while Miss Fischer was clad in sensible brown linen.

“You are the last to arrive,” Miss Fischer said. “Take refreshments and let’s begin.”

“They are even more strict about time than I,” Lady Halverton whispered.

Louisa blushed. She should have left the journal at home so they could have arrived punctually.

They made their way to a table replete with baked delicacies.

“Everything is done by the women living here. They are excellent cooks.”

Louisa watched Lady Halverton take three scones, a mound of clotted cream, and two strawberry tarts.

“Perhaps you should obtain one of them to bake for you,” Louisa said, smiling.

“Cook does very well for me and is an excellent trainer. She placed three girls with prominent families.”

Louisa bit the inside of her cheek, then said, “Pardon me, my lady. I did not wish to offend.”

Lady Halverton squeezed Louisa’s arm. “No such thing.”

As soon as they settled, Mrs. Beecham opened the discussion.

“Welcome to our literary breakfast, where food meets thought.” She laughed at her feeble witticism, which made Louisa like her.

“Today we discuss Mary Astell, who proclaimed that women are as fully able to reason as men. As you have read, she used Descartes to prove her point. He stated that our minds and bodies are separate entities. While the body takes up space and can be measured, the mind, or soul, is ethereal. Miss Astell used this argument to conclude that while the form of a man differs from that of a woman, both sexes possess a mind equally able to reason. What do we make of this?”

Uninterested in the debate that ensued, Louisa scanned the room.

Twenty or so women of varying ages sat with creased brows, squinting eyes, faces turned in keen interest toward the speakers.

Many were dressed in the same white pinafore and brown linen dresses, presumably members of the household.

The room was modest but pleasant, with windows on three sides.

Work baskets lined shelves beneath a window, and the walls were decorated with samplers.

The members of the group nodded their approval from time to time, save one woman with faded red hair who sat back with her arms crossed and mouth pinched.

“I do not believe that woman agrees with Miss Astell,” Louisa whispered to Lady Halverton.

“What was that, Miss Thorpe? We do not tolerate whispers,” Miss Fischer said. “Let it be spoken aloud.”

Louisa thought quickly, wishing for time to consult her journal. She had no desire to embarrass the red-haired woman. “If Miss Astell were correct, why have I only just heard of her? Her essay was written sixty years ago or more.”

“It takes more than a few decades to change the habits of generations,” Lady Halverton said. “Which is why you are learning now. We cannot free ourselves if we do not know we are slaves.”

“Slaves?” Louisa asked.

A very young lady in a white pinafore said, “As Miss Astell stated, ‘If all men are born free, how is it that all women are born slaves?’”

It was a strong word, which Louisa hesitated to adopt. Was she a slave to her father? Though she’d read the required text, she had not applied it to herself. “Is the word slave an exaggeration to call attention to the problem?”

“I do not believe Miss Astell would say so, but perhaps it depends upon the woman,” someone said from across the room.

“I agree.” Lady Halverton gained the floor, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Some young ladies have a brave, resolute character that allows them to escape what we might call enslavement—say, an unwanted marriage forced upon them by their fathers.”

Louisa’s cheeks ignited. The discussion was turning to her own situation, and she did not wish to hear opinions of her actions spoken aloud. She opened the book in her lap and stared at a blank page.

Lady Halverton did not seem to notice. “This fearless sort of young lady is not a slave but uses her ingenuity to extricate herself from forces that seek to control her. She might, for example, go into service or become a governess. A young woman such as this fights against the constraints society heaps upon her. Were all of us more courageous, such controlling powers would weaken.”

This flattering portrayal failed to charm when spoken so publicly. Who else would take Lady Halverton’s generous view of Louisa’s actions? But perhaps no one would guess the story was Louisa’s. She caught Lady Halverton’s affectionate eye, and a wave of calm spread over her. All was right.

“I cannot agree.” The moment shattered as the woman who earlier had looked so disapproving spoke.

“A gently bred young woman is not intended for service. Even as a governess, she loses respectability. I should not want my daughter behaving thusly.” The woman glanced apologetically at Lady Halverton.

“Pardon me, my lady. I speak only to represent another point of view.”