Page 119 of The Gentlewoman Companion

Epilogue

Each pair of eyes fell on Halverton like a pinprick. He focused in front of him, at the getting through the first set of carved doors and into the peer gallery. Inside the teaming room, he looked past the heads that turned his way, ignored the wigged men who stepped toward him, and listened to the decided clip of his step as he pressed forward. A hand brushed his arm, trying for his attention, but he could not stop for fear of vaporizing the speech Louisa had helped him prepare.

“Lord Halverton,” hushed whispers repeated in his wake. He stepped into the lords’ chamber, looking up to the gallery where Louisa waved at him. There. And all was right. His shoulders relaxed, and he was ready.

Though dressed in the same robes that had once covered his father, he was not the man who took bribes or fathered illegitimate children. He strove to emulate Louisa, unshackled from the past and free to act in the best way he could, always learning and striving.

The royal throne glinted at him, familiar and oddly comforting. He acknowledged Lord Tilney and settled into the same seat his father had occupied. At either side of him, hands shot out to greet him.

He patted his pocket, feeling for the crackle of parchment where the notes for his first parliamentary speech were written. The wig itched his sweating scalp, and he ran his finger around the edge of his forehead, though it did little to relieve his discomfort.

The meeting began with pomp and ceremony. Heat rose as the afternoon progressed. The peers removed their wigs in turn to dab sweat from their heads. Halverton pulled out his pocket watch. How long would this take? They were still discussing a canal that would improve a trade route somewhere in Yorkshire.

Time ticked, and Halverton barely noticed the progression of the discussion. The intricacies of each issue were familiar, and his votes decided.

Lord Tilney stood, and Halverton leaned forward, waiting to be given the floor even as his body twitched to flee the room.

“The Foundling Hospital—” Tilney began.

The entire room erupted in a unanimous groan.

“Not again!” someone shouted from behind Halverton.

“Lord Halverton will finish the argument.” Tilney nodded to him.

His heavy legs protested, but James pushed himself to his feet and cleared his throat. As a child, he’d dreamed of making powerful speeches that would change the course of English history. In that moment, he felt like a sparrow among falcons. Narrowed eyes took his measure, disgruntled voices whispered and heckled, but it all seemed to echo from a great distance. His numb hands trembled toward the page in his pocket.

The room fell silent. Halverton coughed and pinched the paper between sweaty fingers.

“Go back home, Halverton,” a voice shouted from behind him.

He licked his lips and swallowed. Home was exactly where he wished to be. He glanced up at Louisa, whose smile enclosed him in confidence. She was the stillness he sought.

“As mentioned by my fellow peer, I am Lord Halverton. My late father’s political career is well known. As a man of principle, he used his influence to make England a safe, more prosperous, more compassionate country. Today marks my first entrance into the House where he once sat.”

“Don’t we know it?” A shout from across the room.

“I am sure you do.” He tried to smile, but, with humiliation, realized his chin quivered. He swallowed, let his eyes drift toward the upper gallery. Louisa nodded. He could not fail. “Upon the death of my father, I learned the uncomfortable truth that the man I strove to emulate had sired other children. I sought them out and found them living in squalor, here in London.”

A murmur rose. Some of these men were likely in the same situation, believing it was their right as peers to behave thusly. Let them hear the consequences of their indulgent morality. “It was then my eyes were opened to the vast number of children roaming our streets, freezing in our alleyways, starving and dying in the gutters of this great empire. Who will care for them if we do not?” He looked again at Louisa as he quoted her words.

Someone thumped his cane on the floor and shouted, “Hear, hear!” It was probably only Tilney, but it didn’t matter. Halverton warmed to his story. He told them about Margaret and Samuel, Tom and Susan, their illness, hunger, lack of clothing. He recited the scene in which a young brother, newly orphaned, took his baby sister to the Foundling Hospital day after day and was refused admittance. “Tom wasn’t asking of this charity for himself, but for his sister, whom he was unable to care for, whose life he feared would slip away.”

The room was engaged; nearly all the whispers and murmurs had ceased. “The necessity to fund the Hospital extends beyond compassion. It is an investment in the future and prosperity of our nation. Thousands move to London every year seeking opportunities, but many are met with disease and destitution. I cannot imagine what painful circumstances lead a mother or a father to give up their child, but we cannot judge a pain we have not experienced. We owe our foundling children opportunities, apprenticeships, education. Cared for, these children will grow into productive members of society, contributing to the economy, strengthening our military. Their prosperity will be our own.” He finished and sat, the Lord Speaker already opening the dispatch box, ready to move onto the next item of business.

James shoved his arms beneath his robes, hiding their trembling. His eyes found Louisa, and she removed her hat and waved it like a victory banner. The corner of his lips twitched and pressed into a full grin. He blew her a subtle kiss of thanks for her support, her love, her faith in him. From inside his chest, a great swelling exploded, and in joy, embarrassment, and relief, he laughed.

A sharp pain radiated down his arm. Someone had elbowed him.

“Hush!” it was the lord next to him. “You are ruining your moment.”

Halverton sobered into his most regal posture. It felt right to sit among his peers. A year ago, he had not been ready, but experience had refined and cultivated him. He no longer questioned his positions or felt himself too ignorant to cast his vote or speak his beliefs. Though he did not know every detail surrounding every issue, he trusted in his principles and in following his conscience. He sensed his father’s approval, even as he disengaged from old expectations. The pain of his father’s disloyalty would never go away, but neither would he allow it to hinder him from becoming the man he was meant to be.

He was Lord Halverton.

“My darling! You were brilliant!” Louisa didn’t care that people were watching. She threw her arms around her husband and kissed his lips.

“We are brilliant. I never could—never would—have entered the House and voted, if not for you.”