Page 67 of The Gentlewoman Author

“Have you turned Mr. Porter away?” Louisa asked.

“If you did, I will drag him back. I forbid you to keep this to yourself,” Mrs. Eliot said. “This is even better than the last.” She turned a page, and Aunt Mary sat on the bed next to Louisa. “But I must go to my room. It is just next to yours, should you need me.” She took the manuscript with her, grinning like a thief. “You don’t mind if I read this?”

Aunt Mary shook her head.

Louisa leaned into her aunt, eyes stinging at the affectionate arm that squeezed her shoulders. She did not deserve such care.

“I am sorry I neglected you for this past hour. I lost my senses when Mr. Porter appeared. How have you been? Tell me everything. Or everything you wish me to know about…” No one seemed to know what to call the elopement.

“My departure from Bath?”

“Precisely.”

No one knew everything, but Louisa would be as honest as she could with Aunt Mary. She would tell her how she had become a lady’s companion, but not that her employer, Lady Halverson, had a son. A handsome one. Besides, she was through with men.

“It was not long after leaving with…that man.” Saying his name nauseated her. She swallowed. “I discovered that he was not what I had thought. He insisted we share a room, so I locked him out of it, and he eventually went away.” She let out a breath. The hardest part was over.

Mary looked with sympathetic eyes and patted her knee. “Oh, my poor girl. But you are very clever. Well done. Are you hurt? Did he…?”

“He did not. But appearance of wrongdoing and the danger I was in…” Her voice caught, and she paused as both her aunt’s arms drew her close.

This was the validation Louisa needed to continue the story. She hoped Aunt Mary’s approbation carried through to the end.

“When I was left alone, I considered returning to my father, but I did not want him to see my disgrace. I am so humiliated. Try to understand—after that man departed, I was liberated, on my own with no one expecting a thing from me. I stayed a day and night with Nellie in the servants’ quarters and saw that, though they worked hard and were constantly at the whim of patrons and innkeeper, they had their freedoms.” Despite herself, Louisa’s nose stung and her eyes burned. She was going to cry.

“There, there, dear.” Aunt Mary produced a handkerchief.

“I longed to be a little girl, when no one cared what I did, when I had the day to myself and a mother tending me.”

“Yes. I forgot what it feels like to be your age…so many expectations. I did not make it easier for you. Widowhood comes with the advantage of liberty, to some extent.”

While observing the servants, Louisa decided to become a lady’s maid, having cared for her mother while she was ill. “But Lady Halverson found me out. Though I had some skills, she noticed I was not accustomed to service. She promoted me to lady’s companion. In another week, I would have written to you and Father. I was on the verge of doing so when Mrs. Eliot appeared.”

“How did she find you?”

“Mr. Porter is a distant relation of Lady Halverson. Their families lived nearby when they were children. Mrs. Eliot was bringing Mr. Porter here to find you, and when they stopped in Stroud, he suggested staying with the Halversons. It was all a great coincidence, and I am sure both Mrs. Eliot and I were near to fainting when we clapped eyes on one another.”

“A lady’s companion? Really!” Aunt Mary said, as if to herself.

“I was there only a week, but Lady Halverson appreciates me.” Louisa had both relished the employment and been embarrassed by it. A lady’s companion was a post for women without money or marriage prospects. Louisa did not fit into that category, yet she loved the position. For the first time since her mother had died, she felt useful. Lady Halverson sought her conversation and her presence when everyone else only wanted rid of her.

Aunt Mary took Louisa’s hand. “I paraded you around Bath, dragged you to this event and that soirée, never considering your feelings. I am sorry. Now, we must mend it. Your father knew what was best for you. He planned for you to marry Dan—Mr. Fletcher, and so you shall.”

Louisa sucked in a breath. “I do not want to. Please, don’t make me do it.”

“Behavior has consequences. This marriage will set you to rights. When you are married, your propriety will never be questioned. This is what your mother would want for you. She would not approve of you becoming a companion, which would be as good as announcing yourself a spinster.”

Louisa felt her chin begin to tremble. There would be no returning to Lady Halverson. The last thread of hope unraveled and left her unsteady. If she stood, she would puddle to the floor, empty and without resolve. She had fought so long for a shred of independence but could not argue against her aunt’s sensible conclusion. Marriage was the only thing that would save her.

Jealousy is that pain which a man feels from the apprehension that he is not equally beloved by the person whom he entirely loves.

The Whole Duty of a Woman, An Infallible Guide to the Fairer Sex, 1737