Page 19 of The Gentlewoman Companion

Chapter Five

On Lady Halverton’s next receiving day, Louisa was anxious to greet and win the approval of the neighbors. An hour before the first callers would arrive, Louisa busied herself in her room, organizing the gowns she had acquired in Bath. Vibrantly colored fabrics, some shiny, others textured, flooded from an open portmanteau. She had delayed unpacking any of her dresses from Bath, not wanting to bring painful memories to the forefront of her mind. However, this occasion warranted something impressive but not too fine, so to her wardrobe from Bath she turned.

She shook out the folds of a gold gown and placed it neatly in the clothes press. It was too fine for morning calls, and it reminded her of dancing with that man.

Returning to the chest, she reached for the next dress. Her hand paused above it, sweat breaking cold between her shoulder blades. It was the blue silk, once a favorite. She picked it up between two fingers and shoved it into the recesses of the armoire’s bottom shelf. Bile stinging her throat, she slammed the doors and leaned against the wall, a hand pressing her chest to snuff out the panic that shuddered her breath.

Nothing could compel her to lay that fabric against her skin. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, trying and failing to prevent tears from spilling over her cheeks. At last, she pushed herself from the wall and wiped her face. One of her old gowns would suffice. From the wardrobe, she pulled the same sage mantua she’d worn the day before and hastily dressed herself. She glanced in the mirror, pinched her cheeks, and reminded herself not to jeopardize her future with Lady Halverton. She needed the job and the stipend that came with it. To that end, she pulled a bright peony from a small bouquet on her dressing table and twisted off the stem.

In the morning room, Lady Halverton reposed by the window reading a book.

“Am I late?” Louisa asked, forcing a smile.

Lady Halverton stood and straightened her gown. “Not so late but do mind the hour.”

Louisa’s heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze. “I brought this for you. The shade will flatter yer complexion.” She removed one of her ladyship’s hairpins and fastened the flower into her hair. “It is very becoming, my lady.”

“How lovely!” The clasp that wrapped Louisa’s arm almost had her forgetting about the blue silk gown stuffed in the wardrobe. She felt useful, a proper companion, and Lady Halverton was warm and understanding—and her key to social acceptance. She recommitted to being the best companion possible: punctual, thoughtful, droll. A challenge, but one she must meet. They sat on a settee, facing the door.

“Shall I fetch yer wrap? Or ring for refreshments?” Louisa asked, practicing thoughtfulness.

“I am not cold, but you may ring the bell for tea after the first visitor arrives.” Lady Halverton studied her. “Are you quite sure you’ve recovered from the incident with Daisy? You are pale.”

Louisa willed color to fill her cheeks and sat up straighter. It was not Daisy’s spook that bothered her but her encounter with that dress. “You are very kind, my lady, but I assure you, I am quite well.”

Just then, the butler announced Lady Waxpole, who swept into the room wearing a heavily embroidered gown and bringing with her the overwhelming scent of rose water. She had a round, wrinkled face and walked with a delicate black cane. Louisa and Lady Halverton stood in unison.

“Lady Waxpole, so kind of you to visit. I am very pleased to introduce you to my companion, Miss Thorpe.”

Louisa went forward and gave the appropriate greeting to the lady. Lady Halverton smiled her approval, and a little bubble of pride swelled in Louisa’s throat. She could succeed in this new role.

Louisa rang the bell before sitting next to Lady Halverton.

“How is your husband?” Lady Halverton asked.

“Poorly.” Lady Waxpole sniffed. “His gout vexes him a great deal, though I made a salve myself and he uses it daily. The poor man has no relief. And I believe he has a complaint of the liver, though he denies it.” She rambled about her husband’s health until a tray of meat and fruit arrived, at which point she stopped mid-sentence, focused on the platter.

Aware of her duty, Louisa poured Lady Waxpole a cup of tea, not wasting a drop or clattering the china.

“Would you care for sugar or milk, my lady?” Louisa asked.

“Both.”

Louisa did as she was bid, pleased at her own ability to appear calm while inside her heart still hammered from touching her blue silk.

“She is a pretty girl,” Lady Waxpole said. “Where did you find her? A parish orphan, like your others?”

It took a moment for Louisa to realize the woman was referring to her. Did her manners or conduct suggest the air of a foundling? She did not lose her composure, delivering Lady Halverton her tea with barely a trembling hand.

“She is the daughter of a squire and quite genteel.”

Louisa poured tea for herself and sipped it plain, as she preferred.

“At least she knows not to waste sugar on herself,” Lady Waxpole sniffed.

Lady Halverton opened her mouth, but at that moment the butler reappeared with two women, both of rounded brows, dimpled chins, and red hair. Louisa’s stomach tightened. It was the disapproving woman from the literary breakfast. Lady Halverton introduced Mrs. Trelawney and her daughter, Miss Rosamond Trelawney. Louisa offered a smile to Miss Trelawney, who returned the gesture with a polite press of the lips.

“Mrs. Trelawney, how is your husband?” Lady Halverton asked, her face showing real concern rather than the polite disinterest she had shown Lady Waxpole. Miss Trelawney slipped her hand into her mother’s and squeezed. The subject was dropped.