Page 21 of The Gentlewoman Companion

She’d answered correctly!

Lady Halverton said, “Tell me, how much honey did your estate produce this year? I must have a few jars for myself as it is the best anywhere.”

The discussion fell to a new method for harvesting honey. Louisa tried to listen but found herself wondering how to impress these women further. If she were to ever need their support, she must gain their friendship and approval.

When the conversation broke, Louisa said, “I am interested in Havenwood. What sort of schedule do you keep?”

“We wake early to meet for song and prayer,” Miss Fischer said. “We rotate through various tasks depending on age and interest. Each day, all are required to read, sew, help with housework, and garden.”

“Some are learning Latin,” Mrs. Beecham said.

“Latin?” Louisa could imagine herself performing the other tasks. But Latin? Her brain was already full, busy chewing and swallowing, sorting and trying to metabolize the events of the past months.

Mrs. Beecham laughed. “Do not be alarmed. Latin is not required.”

Louisa smiled. “Havenwood truly is a marvelous accomplishment,” she told the sisters, trying to add the warmth to her voice that she’d heard Lady Halverton use so sincerely time and again. And indeed, she did find their work admirable and worthy of praise.

“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Beecham said with a kind pat on Louisa’s hand. “We could stay here chatting, Lady Halverton, but there is work to be done.” She began pulling on her gloves.

In a flurry of skirts, the women bid farewell for a full ten minutes before the door shut behind them.

“Those sisters are splendid,” Lady Halverton said with a contented sigh. “But I am sorry some of my neighbors are mean-spirited.” She squinted at Louisa. “I should not have introduced you as my companion. The word implies a dowdy less-fortunate, which you are not. Mrs. Waxpole expects you to shrink into the shadows, but I do not think you were made for obscurity.”

“Oh! I am sure they are right. I am no one of consequence.” Though Louisa did not like shadows, she could not ascertain how to properly step out of them without embarrassing herself.

“Tosh. You don’t see yourself clearly. That is a problem not so easily solved, but for now”—she tapped her chin and narrowed her eyes on Louisa’s sage colored dress—“new gowns will give you confidence. Tomorrow, we go to Mr. Sloan, a fine tailor. When we are finished with you, I will throw a party.”

She glanced at her dress. Three years old and constructed by a second-rate tailor, it was a little faded. But she had plenty of gowns from Bath. She must garner the strength to put them on and hope wearing them would air the bitter memories. “That is unnecessary⁠—”

“Do not fear. This is not to be a repeat of your time in Bath. I want you to enjoy a social evening without the pressure to impress a man, or anyone else.” She leaned forward, warming Louisa’s cold hand. “This is purely to indulge in the love of beautiful things. I have a friend in Paris who sends me patterns, which is why I am the most fashionable lady in town.” She winked. “As a rule, I permit no one to use my designs, but I will make an exception for you. Stand up.” She asked Louisa to turn, then put her hands around Louisa’s waist, all while remarking on her fine figure.

Louisa began to feel a surprising surge of excitement at the prospect of trying a new cut of dress. A new wardrobe, a symbol of a new beginning, might help her acquire the poise she longed for.

“Now,” said Lady Halverton, “I believe that the consumption of hot chocolate should not be restricted to morning. Though I’ve just had tea, chocolate suits me better. Let’s repair to the garden, where we can enjoy it best.”

Louisa fetched Lady Halverton’s shawl and followed her outside, where they settled on the shady veranda, each with a cup of chocolate and a butter biscuit. The air smelled of a freedom almost in reach, and the chocolate coated her insides with sweet warmth, tinged with only a hint of bitterness. To be a lady’s companion was a better situation than anyone could expect for a girl just escaped from a botched elopement. So long as Louisa concentrated on this success, all was right.

Lady Halverton spoke about the various women who had called that day, while Louisa took in the stately garden in late summer color. Even rows of lavender surrounded tightly trimmed boxwood. Red geraniums and yellow marigolds alternated in flower beds that branched in looping rows, forming an impressive pattern when viewed from a distance. Too vast and rigid for comfort, the green was no place to hide. Louisa’s eyes lingered on shadows and distant trees, where that blackguard with whom she had tried to elope lurked in her imagination. Louisa preferred the unruly cutting garden where peonies drooped and daisies spread, where a picket fence held her secure.

“My dear, you have that faraway look. Are you all right?” Lady Halverton asked.

“I am finding it a little hard to breathe. My stays are too tight.”

Lady Halverton tapped her cup with her fingernail and turned a penetrating eye on Louisa. “I suspect you are still wrought over your misadventures. I know your story already, but you may always discuss it with me, if you wish. It will fester if not aired.”

Louisa imagined the tangle of pain inside her middle—red, swollen, and oozing. It will fester if not aired. She must remember that, though she knew not to what end. The subject could not be broached. “I…miss my mother. My memories of her are fading.” It was the only true thing Louisa could share. What she wouldn’t give for her mother’s reaction to the Great Misjudgment. Whether Mama would reprimand or comfort her, she couldn’t be sure, but surely Mama would know how to stamp out the heat of shame that at times consumed her and help her know whether it was normal to feel like reaching down one’s throat to scratch away the hurt.

Not so long ago, Louisa had been on her way to Gretna Green. She closed her eyes against the lingering sensation of that man’s mouth on hers, his hands wandering over her blue silk gown. She wanted to extricate the memories and leave them in shreds.

“Louisa, I have correspondence that requires my attention.” Lady Halverton’s smile drew Louisa in and wrapped her in warmth. All would be well. She was safe. “Take some time for yourself, and I will see you at supper.”

“I could write for you.” In the short time she’d been at Lundbrooke, Louisa had learned Lady Halverton had a great deal of estate business that required letter-writing, as well as a multitude of correspondence all over London.

“You need rest, dear.”

Louisa considered finding Nellie, but the blue devils had their hooks in her. Instead, she went to her room, where she pulled draperies around her bed, hoping to rest as Lady Halverton suggested. But in the close darkness, she did not find sleep; instead, she was in a carriage, wearing her blue silk, the enormity of her mistake dawning with fresh horror. There must be a way to disentangle that man and all memories associated with him. She needed a fire.

She stepped from the bed. There was wood in the hearth. Good. Did silk smoke? She opened the window, then took the tinderbox from the mantle and looked inside. She knew what flint, char cloth, and steel were, but how to make them flame was quite another thing. She struck flint to steel until sweat dripped down her back. Sparks flew, then abandoned her.