Page 90 of The Gentlewoman Companion

Chapter Twenty-One

Lady Halverton’s drawing room was absent of card playing and heads bent in gossip. Hot chocolate filled the cups of attendees, rather than ratafia or champagne. Lady Halverton was dedicating the evening to profound intellectual discussion, and not even the most prominent had refused her invitation. With an intent to promote deeper discussions and firmer camaraderies, the chairs were arranged in unexpected clusters of five and contained thirty guests.

Buoyant at having saved Charles from his debt and herself from ruin, Louisa was unintimidated by the prestigious collection of scholars, musicians, and philosophers surrounding her. She felt equal to anything, though perhaps not to the ensemble to which she had been assigned, as the subject of their discourse did not interest her. But Lady Halverton would soon announce a shuffling of the groups.

Louisa and three others listened to Mr. Stillingfleet explain Linnaean taxonomy at the request of Mrs. Albert, who was a fellow botanist. Mr. Stillingfleet, who had come straight from his research and neglected to change to formal white, was clad in his notorious blue stockings. He withdrew a page from a portfolio.

“The classification is shown here.” He pointed to the words and read them aloud, “Kingdom: Plantae. Plant kingdom.”

“We are not so dense, Mr. Stillingfleet. While not all study Latin, we can reason the meaning,” said Mrs. Albert.

Louisa stifled a yawn.

“Yes, of course.” He read the next line, “Phylum: Angiospermae,” and showed an illustration of flowering plants beside the line. He explained the class, order, family, and genus. “Until we finally arrive to,” he turned the page around, dramatically, “species: the English rose.”

The delicate pink of the rose matched the silk of Louisa’s gown. She sipped her chocolate, voices becoming an indistinct hum as she recalled the rose garden at Lundbrooke. She had not dared think that James might ask her to be mistress of that grand estate. But he was a man of deep integrity, certainly not one to trifle with her feelings. Was it possible that one day she, Louisa Thorpe, would be mistress of Lundbrooke?

The preparations for Lady Halverton’s salon had so occupied Louisa that she had not communicated with James beyond cursory greetings since their kiss. That kiss. The memory burned her ears. But it had happened.

Though not within her sight, she knew precisely where he was, seated near the pianoforte. Unlike her, he was probably listening intently, asking questions, and seeking to understand whoever was speaking.

Those around Louisa clapped, jarring her to the present. She joined the clapping, then concealed another yawn.

“You, Miss…?” Stillingfleet spoke to her.

“Thorpe, sir.” If he quizzed her on his little chart, she was ready.

“You are bored by this discussion?” It was barely a question.

“Oh! I enjoy botany immensely as an observer of nature, but I own taxonomy is a subject too new for me to appreciate.” One could not sit unnoticed in so intimate a circle. She swallowed another yawn. She was still recovering from the late night spent calming Susan in the study.

“Pray, what do you find interesting?” asked Mrs. Albert with genuine interest.

“She can drive a carriage to an inch!” This from a young lady across from Louisa who blushed crimson when the group turned to her. Their attention lasted only as long as the short sentence. Expectant eyes fell upon Louisa.

“I learned to drive on the Halverton estate.” She intentionally used her benefactor’s name and arranged her features—serene smile, soft eyes. Benign.

“A young lady cut me off in Hyde Park just the other day,” said an elderly gentleman, his considerable mustache drooping with consternation.

How unfortunate he should be sitting next to her. Should she apologize or feign ignorance?

“That was you, Miss Thorpe, was it not?” The young woman leaned toward her.

With the decision out of her hands, Louisa confessed and apologized.

“You may race around the countryside as much as you please, but in London, we practice restraint.” The old man thudded his cane twice.

“I am impressed with a young lady who manages horses so well,” said Mrs. Albert. “We must not judge her misdemeanor before we understand her motives. Miss Thorpe, what urgent matter led you to fly around the park with unseemly haste?”

“I claim no sufficient motive. Frustration, a sentiment I seek to bridle, urged me on.”

“Evidence that women are too emotional to be given the reins,” the old man said.

The reproof stung. “I believed this a group of progressive thinkers. While I own my behavior was rash, I declare it was noted more because of my gender than speed. Indeed, I was exasperated because another carriage, driven by a gentleman, went along faster than I, but he received nary a glance, whereas my keeping up with him was censured.”

“I was not cut off by a gentleman.”

“Yet he cut off as many people as I did. Have you never made a mistake in the clutches of anger?” she asked, heart pounding, unable to stop her tongue.