With Love, Louisa by Ashtyn Newbold

Chapter 17

Benham Abbey was much larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. Perhaps it only felt larger because Mr. Warwick stopped at nearly every door, explaining the purpose behind each room. Based on the broad smile on his face, Louisa assumed he was inventing some of the information to make the tour more exciting. The dramatic gestures of his arms and the enthusiasm in his voice added to her amusement. She tried her hardest to focus on the information he was telling her, but most of her focus was captured by his voice and his mannerisms, his expressions and movements. She scolded herself each time she found herself distracted, but the distractions were becoming more and more frequent.

Had he truly disposed of all his drinks? She hadn’t fully believed that he was remorseful until that morning when he had told her that. She was still cautious, but her confidence grew each moment she spent in his company. Her shyness was fading a little, at least when he was being so cheerful and welcoming. She was proud of herself for taking his teasing comments a little more lightly—and for giving him a quip or two in return. There was no harm in at least trying to be friends with her husband.

She was still worried he would break his promises, but for now, she enjoyed his company. He was entertaining to listen to and even more entertaining to watch. She followed silently for most of the house tour, asking questions only when necessary. Each time she smiled he seemed to pause, as if pocketing the expression for safekeeping. It took a great deal of effort to keep her smiles at bay, but she could not have him thinking she thought him as entertaining as she truly did.

She quite enjoyed seeing his efforts to win her favor.

She refused to believe they were working, even if her heart fluttered a little every now and then.

Mr. Warwick’s eyes met hers as they walked outside, progressing to the tour of the grounds. In the sunlight, his eyes appeared even more blue. He was so much more amiable when he had not been drinking. It almost made her forget how much he had vexed her before. “What did you think of the house?” he asked. “Describe it in one word.”

“Only one?”

“It’s a test of your creativity,” he said with a sideways smile.

Louisa glanced upward in thought. “Large.”

His features flattened. “Is that all you could think of?”

“That is the first word that came to my mind.” Louisa shrugged. She nearly laughed at his deflated expression. “If you would allow me more than one word, then I might describe it to your satisfaction.”

“I will give you one more attempt.”

She pursed her lips. “Undermanned.”

He let out a grunt of dismay. “I already told you I plan to hire a steward and many other staff members soon. Do you know who you are beginning to sound like?” One of his eyebrows arched dangerously.

A laugh bubbled in her chest. She held it back, shaking her head. “Do not say it.”

He drew a step closer. “Mrs. Chamberlain.”

Louisa glared at him, but she could only hold the expression for a few seconds. Mr. Warwick’s face twitched, his shoulders shaking. Her laughter burst out, and she shook a finger at him as he started laughing as well. “Never, ever compare me to that woman again.” She crossed her arms, walking a few paces away from him. He seemed far too proud of himself for making her laugh. His eyes were fixed on her, a triumphant grin on his face.

“Then you ought to think of a better word for the house, one that is not so offensive.”

She sighed. “Why do you take such pride in a house that is not your inheritance?”

He looked down at the grass. They were walking aimlessly on the back lawn, circling the perimeter as they talked. When they approached the gardens, Mr. Warwick took a turn onto the row of stepping stones flanked by rose bushes, waving Louisa forward. “Perhaps one day I will be proud of Haslington, but for now, I resent it.” His voice wasn’t angry like she had expected. It was sad. A little broken.

One word hovered on her tongue, but she held it back. Why? That was all she wanted to ask, but she was afraid of ruining the tour for both of them. Mr. Warwick’s quarrel with his father must have been caused by something more drastic than his drinking and gambling habits.

“I understand that,” Louisa said. “I have no wish to return to the house I was raised in.” She kicked a weed that had sprouted between a crack in the stone path. My stepfather ruined that house for my sister and me.”

Mr. Warwick’s eyes met hers as they stopped by a stone bench under the shade of a tree. He gestured for her to sit before taking his place beside her. “How so?”

Louisa crossed her ankles under her skirts, staring up at the leaves as they twisted on their stems with the breeze. “After my mother died, he tried to arrange a marriage for my elder sister to one of his dreadful creditors. He threatened to send us to the workhouse if she did not marry him. Thankfully, the Northcotts invited us to Larkhall. As luck would have it, Alice, my sister, fell in love and married during our visit there. I stayed as a companion to Matthew’s sister Bridget.” Louisa smiled. “When she married, I felt…a bit out of place at Larkhall with Matthew. It was not proper for me to stay, so I wrote to my aunt.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Or rather, I wrote to you. And now I am here, and my stepfather is in debtor’s prison.” She was silent for a long moment. “I will likely never see my childhood house again, and I have no wish to.”

She could feel Mr. Warwick’s gaze on the side of her face, so she gathered the courage to look at him. His eyes were heavy as they traced over her face. “And the events of your arrival here were yet another misfortune you did not anticipate.” His voice was edged with frustration, and she could practically see the guilt that lined his face. She hated to be the cause of it. Guilt and regret were two of the most wicked emotions. They clung to a person without mercy, and were often impossible to remove. At least not without help.

“I would not call it a misfortune. I would call it a…surprise. Life, as we know, is full of unexpected things. In truth, I think your company today has proven much more agreeable than Mrs. Irwin’s.” Louisa avoided his gaze when she said that part, returning her attention to the leaves and not the satisfied smile on his lips.

Mr. Warwick’s voice was gentle. “And I confess, despite your similarities, your company is slightly more agreeable than Mrs. Chamberlain’s.”

Louisa gasped, turning to face him. “Slightly?”

He chuckled. “The comparisons will continue unless you think of a better word to describe the house.”

She sat back in surrender. “Very well. In one word…” She paused, tapping her chin. “Functional.”

Mr. Warwick groaned, but his smile persisted. “You will not flatter me, will you?”

“I’m afraid not.” She gave a quiet laugh. “You must confess that all three of my words accurately describe the house.”

“Yes, they do.” He crossed his arms. “However, your words of choice make it sound equal to the stables.”

“I haven’t yet seen the stables, but I imagine they are quite fascinating.” Louisa kept her eyes fixed on the large yellow butterfly that flitted toward their bench. Her heart pounded. There was no reason behind it, but she had been afraid of butterflies for as long as she could remember. The little creatures seemed to have no fear of approaching people, but simply because they were beautiful did not mean they were welcome near her. One had once landed on her arm after she had fallen asleep outside, and she had awoken to the tickle of wings brushing against the hairs on her arms. Even at the memory, chills ran up and down her limbs.

“Fascinating?” Mr. Warwick cast her a look of dismay. “That should have been the word you used to describe the house.”

“If you are so skilled at this game, I would like to hear you describe that butterfly in one word,” Louisa said. It would be good to have another set of eyes on the wicked creature so it could not sneak up on her.

Jack followed her gaze, seemingly intent to accept the challenge. He studied the butterfly as it landed on a knot in the tree across from where they sat. “Curious.”

Louisa raised her eyebrows.

“It is curious enough to investigate this corner of the garden where we are sitting. I suppose it hopes to eavesdrop on our conversation.”

She gave a weak laugh as she watched the creature balance on the tree.

“How would you describe it?” he asked.

“You will tease me for it,” she said in a quiet voice.

Now Mr. Warwick seemed rather curious himself as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees to look at her and not the butterfly.

She took a deep breath before revealing her word of choice. “Evil.”

Mr. Warwick’s face contorted in shock.

Her heart leaped as the creature took flight from the tree, moving straight toward them with alarming speed. She shrieked, grabbing hold of his arm without thinking. When her scream failed to startle the butterfly, she jumped up, running away from the bench and out of its way.

She could hear Mr. Warwick’s laughter even beyond the frantic beating of her heart. She pressed a hand to her chest, her gaze darting around to see where it had gone.

The wicked little thing was on Mr. Warwick’s knee, standing there like a queen on its throne, yellow and black wings moving slowly back and forth. He extended a finger toward it.

“Don’t touch it!” Louisa said in a sharp whisper.

He chuckled, ignoring her warning. She knew her fear was irrational, but she could barely tolerate seeing the creature’s prickly little legs crawl onto the tip of his finger. “Mr. Butterfly, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” His grin became more wicked, and he glanced at Louisa with one raised eyebrow. “Might I introduce you to my companion?” He made to stand, but Louisa was already running away.

She only made it out of the gardens and back onto the lawn before Mr. Warwick’s chuckling was right behind her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, covering her face as he grabbed her arm.

“Mr. Butterfly, might I make known to you, my wife, Louisa.”

She screamed into her hands when she thought she felt a tickle on her arm, thrusting her hand away from her face. Her fist struck Mr. Warwick’s arm. She jumped back in horror. Where was the butterfly?

He rubbed his upper arm, backing away from her as he laughed. “I was only teasing,” he managed through his laughter. “It flew away the moment you started running.”

“Jack!” She glared at him, but his laughter was contagious. Her heart stopped racing for long enough for her to realize how ridiculous she must have appeared, running from a butterfly. A slow smile engulfed her glare. There was no sense in fighting it.

“You called me Jack.” He stopped rubbing his arm, his laughter fading. “I thought you preferred to call me Mr. Warwick?”

Louisa’s face grew hot. “Jack was the only name I could think of while scolding you. I would not call a child Mr. Warwick, and you were behaving much like one.”

He chuckled again, taking a careful step toward her. “Are you going to strike me again?”

“Only if Mr. Butterfly is in your pocket.” She eyed him with suspicion.

“I would never keep such a dangerous creature on my person. I am not so careless as that.”

Louisa threw him another glare. “You do not realize how much they frighten me. Look.” She held up her hands. “My hands are still shaking.”

His brow furrowed with genuine concern, his laugher fading. He took her right hand, unfolding her fingers into his palm, exposing her own. The cuts from her fall from the cart the day before had been too difficult to bandage, so she had left them uncovered. He traced one finger over the edge of her palm, sending a jolt of warmth up her arm. “When did this happen?” His eyes met hers, serious and gentle.

“Yesterday.” She swallowed, ignoring the way her heart picked up speed again. But this time it was Mr. Warwick, not Mr. Butterfly who was to blame.

Frustration filled his gaze again, and he looked down at her hand. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I should not have put you in danger. It was irresponsible and selfish. I will call the physician today.”

Louisa’s focus was captured by the way his hand felt around hers. He was capable of creating a lot of damage, but he was also capable of mending it. “The physician does not need to be called. And you don’t need to keep apologizing,” Louisa said, finally finding her voice. She inched her fingers away, offering a smile. She could breathe normally again. “The past is over and done with.”

Jack released her hand. “I wish it were as simple as that. Because of my carelessness, you are hurt. Consequences live only to remind us of the past.”

Louisa studied him for a long moment. “Well, we shouldn’t live only to remind ourselves of our mistakes. We must live with the intention of not repeating them. That is all we can do.”

Jack met her gaze, nodding. “You’re right. And that is my intention.” A soft smile touched his lips, and she had to tear her gaze away. Jack could be just like a butterfly. Fascinating to look at, seemingly innocent, but enough to send her running if he came too close. What was he hiding? She had told him about her past, but he didn’t seem inclined to reveal anything about his own. He was obviously haunted by something that he wished to keep hidden. She would have to be patient. She already knew far more about him today than she had known the day before.

“Now, shall we go see these fascinating stables you spoke of?” His voice was lighter now. Louisa was much more comfortable with this side of him.

She nodded. “I would be delighted.”

Walking across the lawn, they made their way to the southeast corner of the property. Louisa clasped her hands together in front of her so Jack would not try to extend his arm to her again. She did not abhor his company like she thought she would, but each time she touched him or came close to him, it did strange things to her heart. Aside from being handsome, Jack was charming. And that was what made her so nervous.

“Tell me, Louisa…” Jack began in a curious voice, “if you were to describe me in one word, what would it be?”

She threw him a sideways glance. “Are you certain you wish to continue playing this game?”

He chuckled. “I may regret it, but yes.”

“But you don’t like my words of choice.”

“I will not criticize this one.” He raised both hands in surrender before watching her intently. Waiting. “So long as it is not the same as the word you used to describe the butterfly.” He paused. “Or the house.”

She laughed, covering her mouth with one hand. “You do not care to be described as large and evil?”

“Not particularly.”

There were so many words that came to mind, flooding her thoughts all at once. Confusing, infuriating, charming, vexing, ridiculous, frightening. Louisa could hardly pick just one. She fiddled with the ribbons of her bonnet, wrapping them around her finger and then unwinding them as she considered her answer carefully.

“Have you decided yet?” he asked.

She pursed her lips. “Yes. Impatient.”

He laughed, dipping his head. “Although that is accurate, I don’t think that’s the word you would have chosen.”

Louisa finally settled on her answer, feeling suddenly shy. Just the night before she would have chosen a much more insulting word. She still did not want to flatter him, so she chose a word that was perfectly in the middle, not meant to cause either offense or arrogance.

“Determined.” She stole a quick look at his face. He didn’t object, but walked silently, deep thought reflecting in his eyes.

“Why did you choose that word?” he asked finally.

Louisa shook her head. “I did not promise an explanation. I only promised one word.”

He laughed under his breath.

They approached the stable doors, and he pushed them open. The smell of horses was strong—enough to make Louisa hold her breath for a moment as she adjusted to the unsavory scent. Particles of straw and dirt floated through the air, illuminated by the sunlight that filtered through the small windows.

“Is it my turn now?” Jack asked.

Louisa was distracted by a black horse in the first stall as it made eye contact with her. She smiled like one might coax an infant as she approached the animal. With a slow movement, she stroked the horse between the eyes. “Your turn?”

Jack came to stand beside her at the stall, leaning against the gate and crossing his arms. His eyes found hers. “To describe you with one word.”

Louisa continued stroking the horse, hoping it would distract her from the twisting in her stomach. It felt like a hoard of butterflies had made their way to her stomach, fluttering their wings with all their might. The sensation was rather disconcerting, especially since it was associated with Jack. And with butterflies.

“I suppose you may make an attempt…if you would like.” Louisa cringed at the way her voice stuttered. She could usually speak clearly, but not when Jack was standing that close.

She stared into the horse’s eyes. She could see Jack’s reflection in them.

Silence filled the space between them, making her understand why Jack had been so impatient with her. Anticipation flooded her senses, and she nearly shouted at him to hurry and choose. All the while, she recognized that she was the subject of his deep, prolonged musing, and it made her heart pound.

“Must I only choose one?” he asked.

Louisa released the breath she had been holding. “This is your game, not mine. A game which only has one rule—that you may only use one word.”

“It is my game, which means I can make new rules.”

“No.” Louisa laughed, turning to face him. “That isn’t fair.” She quickly turned back to the horse.

Jack let out a long sigh. “There are simply so many things I could describe. Your manner, your voice, your appearance, your character.”

“Describe my character,” Louisa said, although curiosity tugged at her to request a word from each category. “That is the category I chose to describe you.”

“That does narrow it down a little.” He rubbed one side of his face, still seeming to agonize over the decision. She focused on the horse’s hair, letting each bristle unfold under her finger as she traced it up the horse’s head, then down.

“I have it,” he said.

She glanced up, feigning nonchalance. “What is it?”

“Hopeful.” He searched her face. “Despite all the misfortune you have endured, you do not seem to live life expecting the worst to happen. You seem to be always hoping for the best. It is an attribute I deeply admire and envy.” He gave a half smile, one that made her heart nearly leap from her chest.

What was wrong with her? She looked down. “Being hopeful doesn’t come without its disappointments,” Louisa admitted in a shy voice. His praise had made her nervous. Perhaps it was the heat of the stables that had caused her pulse to speed up. She could not allow herself to be drawn in by his face. His handsome, handsome face. That was an easy mistake to make, so she needed to be aware of the possibility. If her heart became attached, he could easily break it.

“That is the risk of hope, is it not?” Jack’s voice was close to her ear as he leaned toward the horse, rubbing its muzzle with his palm. “That is why so many people are afraid of it. They have been beaten down by disappointment so much, they wish to protect themselves from it.”

“Is that what you do?” Louisa asked.

He shrugged. “I have been guilty of that at times.”

Louisa met his eyes quickly before looking away. “As have I.” She hadn’t been willing to hope that her marriage to Jack could result in something happy or good. Even now, she was still afraid to hope that the ease she had experienced with him that day would remain. He was hiding something from her. So long as he was, she would hide her heart from him. It was the only way to keep it safe.

“There is much I am learning about you today, Louisa.” His voice took on a lighter tone, and he moved back a step. “You see, this is what is called a courtship.”

She laughed at the certainty in his voice. “I thought the courtship came before the marriage.”

“Traditionally, yes.”

Louisa dared a look at his eyes, which danced with amusement. “There is nothing traditional about this, is there?”

He chuckled. “Nothing at all.”

Louisa would not have found the situation humorous in the slightest the day before, but now it did seem rather amusing.

After seeing all the horses, Jack led her on a walk around the front of the property. The grounds were lovely in the summer, with bright flowers and vibrant green leaves at every turn. Her first task would be to meet other young women in town to befriend. She did quite enjoy Cassandra’s company, and perhaps she had friends Louisa could meet. Margaret was still nearby, and Louisa was eager for her to see the house and grounds of Benham Abbey.

As she walked beside Jack, her worries began to subside a little. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so very bad being married to him. That day they seemed to have come to understand one another better. The purpose of a courtship was for a man and woman to become better acquainted with one another—to determine whether they were compatible or not. Once that determination was made, the two would decide whether or not to marry.

In Louisa’s case, the outcome of their compatibility would not change the result. They were already married.

She listened to Jack’s explanation of the flowers that had been planted unevenly on the front lawn, watching his smile and expressive eyebrows. Her heart pounded as she realized that this version of Jack could steal her heart just as easily as he had picked up her bonnet that first day in town.

And he seemed rather determined to do so.