Page 63 of The Gentlewoman Companion

Chapter Fifteen

Louisa fumbled with the reins, dropping one as she tried to move her hands up the line for a better tension. Lord Halverton retrieved it and wove it into her fingers. The horses bobbed their heads as they walked, making it difficult to maintain the correct amount of pull on the reins. It was easy enough with a donkey; driving a pair of horses was not the same.

The physicality of the effort quieted Louisa’s mind. Bless James for agreeing to it. Though in Hyde Park, they found a remote area that felt like the countryside, where thoughts of Charles or the Havenwood sisters or her nerves for that evening’s salon couldn’t stick.

“You are a natural. I believe I can safely relinquish the reins whenever we ride together,” Halverton told her.

“And that is why your hands keep manipulating phantom reins?”

At every turn, Lord Halverton’s fingers twitched, or his arms reached forward as if guiding the horses himself.

He smiled at her. “You won the race, Louisa.”

“And you are as good as your word, my lord.” She wanted to remind him they were not on so intimate terms. “Indeed, I know no greater paragon of integrity.” She said it lightly but felt it intensely. Here was a man who lived no hypocrisy, who met his obligations honestly. Though his mother was disappointed he refused to vote, Louisa saw it as a manifestation of true honor. Perhaps she admired his commitment because she knew the harrowing conflict he felt on account of his father’s behavior.

They talked companionably of their horses for a while, how well all their mounts had adjusted to London, and how well the donkeys were getting on in their training, until James grew serious and quiet. She waited for him to speak.

“I have been in a quandary about Margaret. She refuses my assistance,” he told her.

“You must respect her desire to be left alone if that is what she wants.”

“I cannot accept that when I could relieve her poverty, send my brother to school.”

She did not need to explain what he would soon discover on his own. Margaret would either accept his help or not. “Why do you think she refuses your money?”

“From what I understand, she could not depend on my father to regularly provide for her or Sarah and assumes I am the same sort of man.”

“She doesn’t know you—that is certain. You must show you can be counted upon.”

“That is precisely what I have been hoping to achieve.”

“And you must be patient. Trust cannot be earned by force.” Ahead were a series of tree stumps, perhaps cut due to disease. “Do you think I can round those?”

“Will you refrain if I tell you no? Just mind the width of the carriage, for the horses will not.”

Louisa maneuvered the horses carefully in a tight figure eight around the stumps and, delighted at how easily she’d managed the task, turned and repeated the exercise at a higher speed. As she steered the horses, Halverton broke his thoughtful silence occasionally to ask her opinion on a scheme to aid Margaret and Samuel. His ideas were impressive, from leaving packages of necessities at their doorstep, to continuing to send money, finding Margaret better employment, and sponsoring Samuel’s education but asking the school to offer the place. Each proposal had its difficulties, but she had no doubt of his success.

She began another attempt to guide the horses around the stumps at an even faster pace when one of the wheels caught the edge of a stump. She pulled the carriage to a stop.

“Did I break anything?” she asked.

“The carriage is intact, but we best return if you want to be home by calling hours.” He pulled out his watch, which was silver, instead of the gold watch she’d seen him use previously. “We’ve been out almost three hours.”

She urged the horses into a canter until they reached the more populated lanes where it was considered the height of bad manners to hurry. She slowed the carriage, reveling in the challenge of maneuvering the equipage in traffic, light though it was. Beside her, Lord Halverton tipped his hat and offered greetings to passersby. Though far too early for the fashionable set to crowd the park, Louisa’s heart hummed to be sitting beside Lord Halverton and to be marked as his acquaintance. Next to him, she finally began to feel like a member of polite society rather than an outsider hoping to be included but expecting to be shunned. If nothing else went wrong today, she hoped her confidence would carry through to the salon they would attend that evening.

At Lady Montparnasse’s salon, Louisa was prepared to do Lady Halverton’s instruction justice if asked to share her opinion. Or, if she were brave enough, to offer it herself. Having studied on her own and with Lady Halverton, she had compiled cohesive thoughts on the assigned tract—which argued that women should have the same social, legal, and political rights as men—and felt ready to share them. Besides, her attire was immaculate, all gratitude to Lady Halverton. And she wore her mother’s brooch for luck.

Louisa followed the conversation with interest, nodding her head when she found herself agreeing with a speaker, making mental notes to write certain points in her journal. One Mr. Arnold commented that perhaps women were the superior sex. Louisa sat back and crossed her arms. They were discussing equality, not whether one gender was superior to the other.

“And you?” Lady Montparnasse said to her. “You seem animated by the conversation. What say you?”

Twelve ladies and five gentlemen shifted in their seats to listen, their attention locking Louisa into statuesque rigidity. She held her copy of the tract between trembling fingers, scrutinizing the notes she’d scribbled in the margins. Her scribbles were illegible. Her mind empty of all but a buzzing excitement. This was her moment. She hummed and held the essay close to her face, stalling. Miss Cron nudged her, dislodging Louisa’s reply.

“I cannot agree with Mr. Arnold. I believe there is no superior sex.” She relaxed into the cushion at her back. Her Cornish roots had been painstakingly scrubbed from her tongue, and she wordlessly celebrated her perfect articulation.

Everyone was still looking at her.

“And?” Lady Montparnasse tapped a finger on the arm of her chair, like some goddess ready to announce judgement upon Louisa’s intelligence.