Page 104 of The Gentlewoman Companion

When he finished reading, he sat on his hands to prevent himself from wrapping his arms around the vulnerable being beside him. She was even pluckier than he’d imagined, and her motivations were slowly becoming clearer to him. The new perspective threatened to overwhelm.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse. “It was brave of you to share this with me. I do not take your confidence lightly.”

“Now you see just how foolish I am,” she said. “But I’m not sorry I left Bath. I only wish I hadn’t left with that man.”

“You did your best in unjust circumstances. I believe that.” He paused, considering what she’d written about the important question Mr. Fletcher had asked her. “Louisa, what do you want?”

Her breath hitched, and she gazed at him with burning eyes. “To feel capable, else I will never trust my worth.”

He nodded, wondering how to grant her wish. “And do you still want to spill tea on my neckcloth?”

“I do.”

They shared a smile, but it cooled quickly.

He loved her, yes, but there was much to consider. She was the same person he had come to know, but he needed time to merge everything he knew into a more complete understanding of her. Aside from that, he must focus on his young dependents. And if what Louisa longed for most was independence, he must allow her to tread her own path and return to Cornwall. He could not allow her to be distracted by an uncertain future or claim her for his own selfish desires, as that man had attempted. He would not control her as her father had or betray her confidence as her brother had.

His tongue fumbled for the proper words. “I feel obliged to apologize for indicating that we might come to an understanding. I cannot promise⁠—”

“Oh! No. Do not think I expect such a thing.”

“The other evening when we⁠—”

“A mistake. It was late. Neither of us were thinking. In the sensibility of daylight, it would never have happened. It meant nothing at all.” A quick, sharp noise drew his eyes to her wrist. She’d ripped the lace from her sleeve.

Never? Nothing. Could she mean that?

Her hand fluttered around the tear, fingers twisting into the limp lace. Her eyes darted like a trapped fly. Was she sparing his feelings, or did she imagine she was helping him?

“You needn’t distress yourself on account of your honor,” she continued. “We would never suit.” She went on about her reputation and his status, her lower birth, and his station, but her words rushed and jumbled.

It was on his tongue to tell her how important she was to him, but it was not fair when he was unsure how to proceed beyond the fact that he must let her go.

The following morning, James went early to the dockyards and made his request concerning Charles Thorpe to the captain of HMS Frolic. The gracious captain was genial and understanding and promised to write James with updates on Mr. Thorpe’s situation.

Upon receiving the information, Louisa bounced on her toes and kissed his cheek, afterward turning herself out of the room.

Hours later, James, his mother, and Louisa were in the parlor discussing Louisa’s plan to live alone in her Stillwater Cottage.

“Take Nellie,” his mother insisted.

“I can’t,” Louisa said. “What would you do without a lady’s maid? And she is in love with the footman.”

“Take them both.”

“I cannot afford to keep them. If you are willing to spare a servant or two, I will take them with me for safety on the journey but will send them back as soon as I arrive.”

Louisa possessed a striking serenity, a stunning self-containment. Despite the many arguments his mother offered against her plan, she stood firm, without destroying her ribbons. Even in the face of his mother’s tears, Louisa was resolute.

“You cannot live alone.” His mother clutched a damp handkerchief.

“The house has caretakers. An older couple, the Greens. I am a little acquainted with them from the few times my mother and I visited when I was a child,” Louisa said.

“How will you support yourself?” James asked.

“The small farm produces enough to satisfy the needs of the household. Stillwater belongs to me alone and cannot be touched by my father or Charles, though that did not keep my father from trying to use it to barter me away.” She said this without malice, as if her father’s actions no longer hurt her. “I need only food and shelter. I have what remains from the sale of my mother’s brooch.”

For a moment, James considered telling her of how he’d procured the brooch and offering it back to her. But what would such a gift mean at this moment when she clearly wanted no attachment to him? He could not behave as a suitor.

“What shall I do without you? I cannot bear it,” his mother cried.

Louisa knelt before Lady Halverton and rested her head on the older lady’s knee. “I shall miss you.”

“I think we must let her go, Mother.”

His mother stroked Louisa’s hair. “If you will not accept the gift of servants, you must remember Nimbus and his carriage was a gift.”

Louisa looked up at her. “You are very generous, my lady.” There were tears in both women’s eyes, and James could no longer bear the sight of them. He wanted to embrace her, to beg her to stay, but the decision was right for her. While staying in London would force her to grapple with her mistakes and confront the censure that her actions would bring, there was a maturity in the decision to start somewhere new, to survive on her own resources and combat whatever difficulties she may face on her own. It was a necessary risk, best for them both.

Louisa stood, her spine straighter, her face more relaxed than ever before. “Excuse me. I must prepare for the journey.”

James pushed himself to his feet. Time slowed as he committed to memory her long fingers brushing her skirts, the almost-smile from lips whose softness he knew, the rhythm of her step and proud strength of her neck. She slipped from sight, leaving him where he could visit her only in the echoing corridors of his mind.