With Love, Louisa by Ashtyn Newbold
Chapter 1
Alady had only two respectable choices when faced with poverty. She could enter into a hasty marriage without any hope of future happiness, or she could call upon her relatives, no matter how distant, for their hospitality. Being the romantic of all romantics, the first was not an option for Louisa Rosemeyer.
Tapping her chin, she thought arduously over how to address her letter. She had already thrown out one sheet of foolscap, cringing at the way My dear aunt had appeared on the paper. Millicent Irwin was indeed her aunt, but she was not dear. Louisa had never even met the woman. Her aunt didn’t care to associate with her relatives, which did little to bolster Louisa’s hopes of the woman taking her in. Perhaps it would be best to keep her request professional, distant, and straightforward, with as few endearments as possible.
Mrs. Irwin, she began in a neat hand.
I have not yet had the privilege of making your acquaintance, but I am yourgreat niece, Louisa Rosemeyer.
She chewed her lower lip as she forced herself to be as concise as possible. The likelihood of a response was slim already, and she didn’t want to get her hopes up.
I have fallen upon difficult times, and have no place to belong or call home, at least not without causing disrepute to the friends that are currently offering me their hospitality at Larkhall, an estate in Surrey. I am writing my humble request to live with you in Folkswich. I would do all I could to make you comfortable and happy while I am living under your roof. I am often described as quiet and reserved, so you should not expect me to be bothersome in your company. My presence in your home would only last for as long as you allow.
Louisa felt the color drain from her face as she wrote. But then where would she go?
She shook her head fast. She couldn’t think so far into the future. She had been offered hospitality from her sister Alice and her husband, but Louisa couldn’t help but feel burdensome living among a newly married couple with a child on the way. She wanted to have a purpose. If her elderly aunt had been alone for so long, perhaps she desired the company. Louisa would feel helpful.
After all, she had never been to Folkswich. She had heard the small village in Yorkshire was lovely in the summer.
Please inform me of your decision at your leisure.
Her quill paused, and she rubbed the feather against her lower lip as she thought of how to sign the letter. How cold and distant did she really wish to be? For all she knew, her aunt might like to know Louisa cared about her and claimed her as a relative.
Dipping her quill in fresh ink, she pressed the tip to the paper.
With love,
Louisa
“What the devil is this?” Jack Warwick muttered under his breath. His blurry eyes skimmed over the letter in his hand. He sat at the dining room table beneath the small chandelier, a soft glow filling the room. Had the butler brought this letter to him? Yes. He could vaguely recall the starched old man walking in with a salver.
The writing was neat…almost too neat. Had he ever seen such a neat hand in his life? Words jumped from the page, tangling together in his lopsided vision. Jack blinked hard, trying to clear his sight before attempting to read again. He clamped his lips around the rim of the bottle in his other hand, throwing his head back for yet another gulp of brandy.
When his eyes managed to focus, he read the first line.
Mrs. Irwin,
A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. Why exactly he was laughing, he could not entirely say. All he knew was that he most certainly was not Mrs. Irwin. He had let her manor, Benham Abbey, but from what he had gathered about the woman, she was not one to receive letters—or visitors for that matter.
Ever.
And if she did, she likely would have driven them out with her cane. Or even with a sword and pistol.
His laughter continued to rumble through his chest without his consent. He continued reading down the page, his eyes focusing on the name of the poor girl requesting to live with Mrs. Irwin. Louisa Rosemeyer. What a hopeless young thing. She sounded entirely too desperate. Was she a young woman? Or a spinster? How could he know? At any rate, she must have been very desperate indeed to be soliciting a request to live with Mrs. Irwin, even if she did happen to be the woman’s great-niece.
Jack rubbed his jaw, pausing to swallow what remained in his bottle. The room spun, adding to his delirium. It wasn’t kind to laugh at the misfortunes of others, but it was serving well to distract him from his own.
He bunched the letter up in his hand, pushing away from the table and taking unsteady steps toward the door.
“May I assist you to your room, Master Warwick?” Jack ignored the offer, not even looking to see where the voice had come from. He could make it to his blasted room on his own. He was not a child any longer.
He stumbled over the first step of the staircase, landing on his outstretched hands. He recovered, picking up the letter that had fallen with him, taking hold of the bannister with his other hand. When he finally made it to his bedchamber, he sat down heavily in the chair at his writing desk.
Parchment.
Quill.
Where the devil was the ink?
He gathered together his supplies, the strange urge to laugh still hovering in his throat. His head pounded as he thought over what to say, struggling to create sentences in his muddled mind. Miss Louisa was fortunate that her letter had fallen into his hands instead. If Mrs. Irwin had received it, she wouldn’t have hesitated to turn the girl away. Jack would make certain she was invited, and once she arrived, Mrs. Irwin would be forced to contend with the situation.
He would pay a great deal of money to see that.
His chuckling resumed as he scrawled on the parchment.
Dear Miss Louisa,
Do come to Benham Abbey as soon as you wish. I will be most eagerly anticipating your arrival.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Irwin
He looked over the incredibly short correspondence, his head aching too much to write more. It would be quite exciting to rattle Mrs. Irwin. The entire town would thank him for doing so. That unpleasant woman would finally have to consider caring for someone other than herself. If Miss Louisa traveled so far, Jack doubted Mrs. Irwin would send her back to where she came from.
Where had she come from?
He glanced at the address and copied it down, sealing the letter and preparing it to be posted in the morning. If he left it on the edge of his desk it would be carried off before he even awoke—and by the pounding in his head, he would likely sleep most of the next day.
Without bothering to change, he staggered to his bed, falling on top of the blankets rather than under them. An odd, unwelcome smile still tugged on his lips. Perhaps it was because he had forgotten his own troubles. What had he been so upset about earlier? He could no longer recall. His brow furrowed as his eyes closed. Just before everything went black, a familiar voice chanted through his mind, one that he heard every time he closed his eyes. At least this time he wouldn’t remember it when he awoke.
The chant grew louder even as his consciousness faded.
You killed him.
You killed him.
You killed him.
