Page 108 of The Gentlewoman Companion

Chapter Twenty-Six

James’s steps echoed into a dimly lit guildhall as he approached a long oak table, where sat five wigged men wearing expertly tailored jackets. Behind them hung a large gold-framed image of open scissors painted over a red background. These tailors were as serious as any set of peers arguing over an act of parliament.

The oldest of the men spoke, likely the Guild Master. “My Lord Halverton, we are pleased by your presence, but be forewarned, your petition will not be accepted.”

When James had repeatedly entreated the local tailor to receive Meg as an apprentice, the favor had been declined. Mr. Sloan had refused to plead the case to the guild, saying it was an impossibility. In a last, despairing effort, James had undertaken Meg’s case himself. Their father had let her down, but he would do whatever it took to see her ambition take shape.

James bowed his head. “My Lords and Masters of the Fraternity of St. Anne of the Tailors, I humbly beseech you on behalf of a gentlewoman, Miss Margaret Cooper, my ward, who desires to bind herself in apprenticeship to the tailor Mr. Peter Sloan. Already capable with the needle, Miss Cooper has cared for herself and her brother with proceeds gained by the craft. She wishes to advance her skill and learn under the tutelage of a master.”

“It is contrary to the Fraternity to suffer female entrance and would set a dangerous precedent,” one of the men said. “I am sure you understand, for there are no women polluting the House of Lords.” The men snickered.

James was tempted to tell them he would give his mother his seat if circumstances permitted. Instead, he drenched his tone in humility. “She does not desire an apprenticeship to infringe upon your order but merely to improve her craft. She promises she will restrict her clientele to women.”

In response, they grumbled about mantua makers and females taking business.

James added, “I understand that should you accept Miss Cooper, she will not benefit from guild membership. Nevertheless, I will assume responsibility for paying the annual guild fee, so the Fraternity might profit from her education as with other apprentices.”

The men conferred, their heads shaking, their complaints growing louder. They would deny him, an unfathomable possibility.

“Gentlemen,” James said, “you are aware that in 1709 the Merchant Taylors lost their suit against mantua maker Elizabeth Philips. The tailor’s guild does not have a monopoly on female garments.”

The Guild Master thundered his fist against the table. “To the detriment of our sacred fraternity! This! This is why we refuse you.” Spittle flew as he raged. “Females should not be privy to the mysteries of the guild. Take Miss Cooper to London and apprentice her to one of the hoydens who practice our trade.”

James had made this suggestion himself, but Meg insisted she’d never seen a more brilliant tailor than the one who created his mother’s gowns. She wanted Mr. Sloan’s tutelage. Further, Samuel would attend school in Gloucestershire, and Meg would not agree to live so distant from her brother, even if it meant relinquishing her dream.

James must convince the guild. He leaned forward and placed his fingertips on the table in front of the guild master, his stomach knotting. He cleared his throat, taking a moment to question what he was about to do, then said what only desperation could pull from him. “In addition to the annual guild fee, I shall donate a monetary gift to the guild. You will not be disappointed.”

As one, the men leaned back in their chairs. The guild master drew assent from the others with a look.

“Let us create a contract,” the guild master said.

After finalizing the agreement, James stepped from the guildhall into a damp afternoon. He had just bribed them, an act he believed unethical. Because it was. There were probably hundreds of deserving young women who lacked the means to pay their way into an apprenticeship.

He mounted Goliath and urged him through the streets and onto the road homeward. After relinquishing the House of Lords, he had adopted the same corrupt behavior he despised in his peers. His bribery clung to him, insidious and sour, twisting at his insides, but he did not regret it. He did not flinch. He didn’t turn on his heel and retract his promises. He’d been desperate and impulsive and done the only thing within his power.

Much like Louisa.

What a thought! To compare his little payment to what she had done. It was hardly the same.

Was it?

He was jittery, still shaking off residual anxiety from his meeting with the guild and lacking the capacity to think of Louisa. That was a lie; he thought of her constantly, missed her every moment. He did not doubt that she had needed time away from him to heal, but how much time? When they’d parted two months ago, he was certain an interval of separation would clear away the confusion he felt at trying to reconcile the brilliant young gentlewoman he knew with a girl who could elope.

But it hadn’t. It pained him to know she had put herself into the arms of another man. The same recklessness that he admired in her had evolved into something repugnant. What else was she capable of?

But her absence clawed at him. It was a chasm he greeted every morning upon waking, and it expanded throughout the day as he unconsciously made notes of things he longed to tell her. If he could wish her there in that moment, he would.

If she appeared, would he love her? Trust her? Could a desperation similar to the one that had led him to bribe the guild have driven her to believe eloping was her only option? Perhaps.

On the open road, he spurred Goliath into a gallop, his thoughts racing as quickly as his mount. He thought of wild-eyed Louisa, who had filled her room with smoke and shut the door on his face. He loved that woman. He remembered that with a voice replete with compassion, Louisa had asked him to tell her about his father, then listened. He loved that Louisa. He loved the Louisa who did not understand her own cleverness. He loved the Louisa who studied and learned, advised and consoled. That was the Louisa he knew.

He was not acquainted with the Louisa of before, though he had caught a glimpse of her in the letter he’d read. Every action she had taken previous to their meeting had made her the person she was. The person he loved. Nothing else mattered; what a fool he’d been in letting her go. But he did not see a clear path to getting her back.

Amonth after securing the apprenticeship for Meg, James seated himself beside Samuel for their weekly visit to the vicarage. A bang sounded from outside, and Tom charged through the door holding a small wooden box. James, past expecting politeness from the boy, was not surprised when Tom projected his voice as if he were speaking to someone on the other side of a river.

“Sam! Look at this.” Tom slid onto his knees and held the box beneath Samuel’s nose.

“Tom,” Mr. Kent said, “greet Lord Halverton, then you may take Samuel outside.”