With Love, Louisa by Ashtyn Newbold
Chapter 9
Afolded square of parchment sat outside Louisa’s door. The sun had fully risen now, and she had managed to change into a different dress without assistance, styling her hair as presentably as she could. Despite how tired she had been from her frightful night, she had still struggled to sleep at all. Rubbing her eyes, she picked up the parchment from the floor, turning it over.
Miss Rosemeyer,
I have had a coach prepared to convey you to Mrs. Irwin’s new residence. Under the circumstances, I do not think it prudent that I accompany you there. With all sincerity, I hope your aunt will see sense and believe your story of the events of yesterday evening. I am afraid people are often inclined to believe the worst possible scenario instead. If you have any need of my assistance, do not hesitate to call upon me again, although I would beg that you come at a more reasonable hour next time, and without a weapon in hand. If I am to never see you again, please take one piece of advice from me in parting. Do refrain from hiding in men’s wardrobes in the future; it is a disagreeable habit to have, you know.
J. W.
Louisa cast her eyes upward, folding the letter briskly in her palm. Ridiculous. Why had Jack Warwick assumed she would want him to accompany her to Mrs. Irwin’s house? There was nothing she wanted less. His uninvited advice grated on her as she took her valise in hand, shoving the letter inside. She could hear the hint of amusement in his voice almost as clearly as if he had spoken aloud.
Of all the emotions—terror, worry, anxiousness—that had been tearing through her, nothing reigned like embarrassment. She cringed each time she remembered the moment Mr. Warwick had opened the wardrobe and when he had told her that it was indeed his residence, not her aunt’s. And then the fact that her dress had been unbuttoned down the back the entire time? Her cheeks warmed just at the thought.
There had been so much occurring; she had forgotten all about that. It was no wonder with Mr. Warwick’s state of undress even exceeding hers that the housekeeper had suspected a scandal.
Louisa blew a puff of air past her lips, shaking her head. It was over now. There was nothing she could do to change the past. All she could do was vow to avoid Mr. Warwick at all costs, if for no other reason than to ease the sting of her humiliation.
Fortunately, she managed to gather all her things into the coach and set out toward Mrs. Irwin’s residence before Mr. Warwick could find her. She almost instructed the coach to stop by the inn where Matthew was staying, but she stopped herself. She could do this alone. She couldn’t pull Matthew into this mess she had made.
The drive to her aunt’s house was surprisingly short, just through a grove of trees and straight to the other side of the river. When the coach stopped, Louisa hurried toward the door, hardly stopping to notice the immaculate grounds surrounding the quaint structure. The red brick was charming, the size of the house much more suitable for a woman who lived alone like Mrs. Irwin did. With the rows of pretty flowers beneath each window and the vines growing up the sides of the house, Louisa felt welcome already.
She drew a deep breath and rapped her knuckles on the door.
While waiting for an answer, she adjusted her curls and gloves, hoping her eyes were not too puffy from lack of sleep.
The door swung open. The butler stood tall, his eyes lowering to her without his head moving an inch. Before Louisa could say a single word, her eyes caught on the white frilled cap and wide-set eyes of Mr. Warwick’s housekeeper, standing just a few paces behind him.
Dash it all.
She had beat Louisa there. Louisa had even hurried that morning, but she hadn’t been quick enough.
The housekeeper stepped forward with a curtsy and rankling smile, one that was meant to appear polite, but was far from it.
“I am here to see Mrs. Irwin,” Louisa said, keeping her voice confident. “Where is she?” Rather than addressing the housekeeper, she fixed her attention on the butler.
Each servant standing at attention watched Louisa with wary eyes. The housekeeper must have already relayed the events of the previous night to them all. Louisa swallowed. “Take me to her please.”
The butler nodded, dispatching a footman to lead the way down the right hall, stopping at the door of the morning room. The footman announced Louisa’s entrance before retreating away, leaving her to walk past the threshold alone.
A solitary ray of light filtered through a gap in the sheer drapes, beaming down on the grey curls of Mrs. Irwin.
She sat like a queen at the center of the blue sofa, two heavy circles of rouge on her high cheekbones. Her weathered hands sat in her lap, fingers linked like sausages, with just the tips of her fingers touching as she examined Louisa from head to toe.
“Ah, Miss Rosemeyer. I was told you would be coming today.” Her face didn’t show a single hint of expression.
Louisa calmed her shaking legs by taking a deep breath. She had only been in the woman’s presence for seconds and already she was intimidated. “I—I am here in response to your invitation, ma’am. D-do you recall receiving my letter?”
Mrs. Irwin made a sound, a small grunt. “I have no recollection of receiving a letter from you, nor of extending an invitation to you. Unfortunately, you are not permitted on this property. I do acknowledge your relation to me, given your name, but I have no wish to claim you as my ward given your unscrupulous behavior witnessed by my housekeeper last night.”
Louisa took a small step backward, struck by the harshness of Mrs. Irwin’s reply. “Well—I’m afraid what the housekeeper witnessed only appeared to be scandalous. You see, I was lost. When you wrote your reply inviting me to come stay, you did not inform me of your change of address, and—”
“I did not, in fact, invite you.” Mrs. Irwin’s eyes flashed. “I am ashamed that you would fabricate such a story in order to trick me into providing a home for you. Frankly, I must confess, I would not have wanted you here even if you were a woman of spotless repute. I have lived a long life, Miss Rosemeyer, and I have already extended my share of generosity and kindness. I daresay I have earned my existence of solitude.” She picked a hair from her dress, flicking it away just as easily as she was flicking Louisa away. “You might have convinced me to take you in if you had not spent the night in Mr. Warwick’s bedchamber.” Her lips curled with disgust.
“You misunderstand—”
Mrs. Irwin’s eyes lifted from her dress and back to Louisa with scrutiny. “Why are you still standing there? Go.” She waved a hand, and the footman opened the door again. “Your reputation has already stained me.” Mrs. Irwin lifted her nose. One rouge-darkened cheek rotated away from Louisa, ending the conversation.
Louisa’s jaw hung loose. As stunned as she was, she could hardly make sense of her thoughts. This was what she had traveled all the way to Yorkshire for? A rejection? Her stomach lurched. Matthew had come, and so had Margaret. Mrs. Irwin was just as cruel and disagreeable as Mr. Warwick had said. Perhaps even more so. How could she not remember writing that letter to Louisa?
The letter.
Louisa dug through her valise, pushing aside Mr. Warwick’s letter from that morning. At the very bottom, tucked inside a book, she found Mrs. Irwin’s reply. Looking at the woman now, Louisa wouldn’t have guessed that her writing could appear so disorderly. The words were difficult to read, but Louisa presented the paper to her aunt. “This is the letter you wrote to me. See? You invited me to come. You said you were eager for my arrival.”
Louisa drew a deep breath, stepping back as Mrs. Irwin snatched the letter from her hand. The woman’s eyes narrowed as she examined the page. “I did not write this.”
“It is signed from you.”
“Forgery, that is all it could be.” She sniffed, handing the letter back to Louisa. “I am appalled that you would think my penmanship to be so unsightly. I am well-bred, you know.”
Louisa’s frustration bubbled over. She had lost her ability to keep it at bay of late. “I must politely disagree. A well-bred woman would be true to her word. She would show generosity, or, at the very least, compassion for those in need. She would carry her manners with her, no matter her age. And she would agree that acting with kindness is a privilege, not a burden.” Louisa’s voice was quiet, but it somehow managed to keep Mrs. Irwin’s rapt attention. “And,” Louisa took a deep breath, “she would know it is no longer fashionable to wear so much rouge.”
Mrs. Irwin’s face darkened another shade, her thin lips sputtering. Flecks of saliva spewed into the air. Louisa had read about volcanoes, and she did not want to be near this one when it erupted. Crumpling the letter and throwing it back inside her valise, Louisa gave a quick curtsy, stumbling awkwardly out of the room.
Her heart pounded. She had never, ever spoken so freely before. Something had come over her since the night before when she had spoken with Mr. Warwick. It was impossible not to develop a bit of cheek while dealing with him, but she hadn’t thought it would carry over into other dealings she had.
Out the door, across the lawn, Louisa stopped a few paces ahead of the waiting coach. What was she doing? How could she tell Matthew what had happened? He would insist that she come back to Larkhall, even when it came at his expense. Would he offer to marry her out of pity? She laughed under her breath. That was the one thing Matthew would never offer anyone.
Alice. Her sister. She could write to her again. Louisa hadn’t wanted to ask for Alice and her husband’s hospitality, even though she knew they would give it. Their child would be born soon, and they were not wealthy. Louisa had assumed any woman living in solitude like her aunt would be lonely and in want of companionship. But it seemed that solitude did not always equal loneliness.
Louisa was the only lonely one.
Her heart pinched as she took one more step toward the coach. How could she get to Matthew’s inn? She bit her lip, waving a hand to capture the coachman’s attention. She scoured her mind for the name of the inn.
“Please take me to the White Swan.”
The coachman doffed his hat in greeting, revealing his head—bald as a coot—and two concerned eyebrows. “I’m ‘fraid the master’s orders say otherwise.”
Louisa frowned.
“He said when Mrs. Irwin turned ye away, ta bring ye back ta ‘is house.”
“His house?” Louisa could hardly understand the man’s words, and certainly not what they meant. “When Mrs. Irwin turned me away?” She glowered at the ground. Had Mr. Warwick really been so sure of her failure that he had already given his coachman orders to bring her back? Well, there was no possible way she was complying with his orders, that much was certain.
“That’s what ‘e told me, miss.” The coachman sniffed, squinting against the sun. He waited several seconds. Louisa didn’t move.
“The inn is a short drive from here,” she said, willing her voice to sound confident. “It will not be far out of your way.”
“I’m sorry, miss. I can’t go ‘gainst the master’s orders.” He gave a discreet nod toward the door of the coach.
Louisa shook her head. “I have no wish to return to Benham Abbey.”
“I was told ta convince ye to come by any means necess’ry. It’s yer only transportation, miss. I was told not to take ye anywhere else.”
Louisa’s patience was at its end. She still hadn’t eaten. She could hardly keep her eyes open. She had just been harshly turned away by the woman she thought would be her new guardian. Her defiance reared its head. How dare Mr. Warwick assume the role of her guardian? Did he think he could transport her wherever he chose? Oh, certainly not.
She eyed her two small trunks that were still strapped to the coach. Could she carry them both as well as her valise? It was unlikely, but she would try. Moving with quick steps, she untied the trunks from the coach, letting them fall to the ground with a thud. Fortunately she hadn’t packed anything valuable. Even if she hid the trunks somewhere nearby, she could walk to the inn and fetch Matthew, then return for the trunks once she had his assistance. The Lovells’ house was even closer than the inn, so perhaps she would start there instead. She had a very sharp memory. She could find her way there with what she recalled of the surrounding hills and river.
“What’re ye doing?” The coachman’s voice was quick. “Master Warwick said—”
“I do not care what that man said.” Louisa let out a puff of air as she dragged her largest trunk closer to her feet. “Perhaps you can relay a message to Mr. Warwick from me. Tell him I do not need his assistance, for I have two perfectly capable legs beneath me. They can walk, they can run, and they can give him a swift kick where he does not wish to be kicked if he dares try to stop me.”
The coachman’s eyes grew larger than saucers. He swallowed.
“His broken nose,” Louisa clarified. She cleared her throat, brushing the hair from her eyes.
“I—I see. I’ll be sure to tell ‘im.” The coachman doffed his hat once again, keeping one eye on Louisa as he drove away, as if he feared she would kick him where he did not wish to be kicked as well.
She sat down on the edge of her trunk, lowering her head to her hands. She was stranded. Utterly stranded. With a deep breath, she stood, ignoring the gnawing in her stomach. Sitting and wallowing would not solve her problem. She picked up the first trunk, walking across the path to a large hedge on the property. If her aunt would not allow her to stay at her house, then at least she could provide a hiding place for her belongings until she found people to help her transport them.
Transport them where? A lump formed in her throat. Where could she go now? The uncertainty choked her as she moved one trunk after the other to a place between two hedges, manipulating the leaves and loose branches to hide them as best as she could.
When her work was done, she set off toward the walking path that would lead her to the Lovell’s house, keeping her smallest valise in hand. Going to Matthew now was too embarrassing. He had enough to occupy his mind with finding Margaret a place to work. Should Louisa seek work as a governess too? Was that the best option for her now? Her thoughts spun without pause for her entire walk, stopping only when she realized she was lost.
“Drat. Drat, drat, drat.” Louisa turned one way, then another, examining the fork in the path. The branches from the trees above her cast shadows on the ground, the leaves rustling with the light breeze. She didn’t quite remember the path being so wooded. Had she already taken a wrong turn?
Her lower lip began to quiver. What a disaster the last day had been. Could anything else go wrong? A tear slipped from her eye, then another. Her stomach growled furiously.
She sat down in the shade, tucking her knees to her chest and resting her face between them.
“Everything will be all right. Not to worry,” she reassured herself as one might reassure a child to stop them from crying. But the tears came anyway. She let them soak into her skirts.
A twig snapped nearby, and Louisa looked up, heart pounding.
Two sets of toes peeked out from the hem of a dress, which was quickly lowered to hide them. The young lady who was walking barefoot through the woods carried a basket slung over one arm. Her eyes were brown like a doe, her ginger hair tied up loosely with a ribbon. She gasped when she saw Louisa.
“Oh, horse feathers,” she muttered, pressing a hand to her chest. “I didn’t see you there.” The woman laughed softly, tipping her head to one side with concern. “Are you all right?”
Louisa nodded, using the nearby tree to help her weak body stand. “I am a bit lost, that is all.” Her vision flashed black and white. She blinked hard to clear it.
“You must allow me to help you,” the woman said, her voice gentle. She took Louisa’s arm. “You look keen to faint.”
“It would not come as a surprise if I did.” Louisa’s voice was slurred. She sniffed, remembering how she had been crying. Her face must have been covered in red spots.
“Oh, dear. Take small steps and hold fast to my arm. We are only a minute or two from my house. We have a very suitable fainting couch. Perhaps you are too hot. Are you in need of water?”
Louisa nodded, unable to refuse the woman’s assistance. A fainting couch sounded quite comfortable. Much more comfortable than the bed she had tried to sleep on the night before. If she could have a moment to gather her wits about her, then perhaps she could think of a better solution than traipsing to the Lovells’ house in the heat alone.
“Only a few more steps.” The woman holding onto Louisa’s arm smelled of flowers, and her voice was gentle enough to put Louisa’s worry at ease. She seemed to be even more optimistic than Louisa in saying that there were only a few more steps. If it was the house Louisa thought it was, looming in the distance, then there were at least two hundred more steps before they would reach the front gate.
Louisa fought the dizziness in her head, placing one foot in front of the other. She blinked fast to keep her vision clear. She had certainly been on the wrong path. She hadn’t passed this estate before.
The young woman led Louisa by the arm across the smooth stone path, a tall iron gate looming ahead of them. Vines covered the spokes at the top of the gate, soft orange flowers blooming amid the leaves. Red brick and a row of hedges flanked the gate, creating the perfect walkway toward the stately house beyond it.
After what felt like an eternity, they walked through the front doors of the house. The grandeur reminded Louisa of Larkhall, but on a smaller scale. The ceilings were tall, the furnishings in the current fashion. A pair of maids followed behind them with fans as Louisa was led to the fainting couch in the drawing room.
Louisa tried to sit up, embarrassed by the scene she was making. A sharp pain dug behind one her eyes, and her dizziness intensified. She finally succumbed to the young woman’s coddling, leaning back on the fainting couch. She had been through a great deal of distress over the last day between the horrific-events-which-shall-not-be-mentioned from the night before, her hunger, thirst, and wandering outside in the heat after having no sleep the night before. She had earned a moment or two of weakness.
A tray of food and a tall cup of water were brought out within minutes, and Louisa tried to mind her manners as best she could as she swallowed the slice of warm bread in two bites. Or less. She moved to the sliced pears, chewing more slowly when she noticed the young lady with the ginger hair watching her.
Already, her fatigue had lessened, and her dizziness had begun to subside. She gulped down the entire cup of water, wiping her lips before murmuring a quiet, “Thank you. You are too kind to have offered me your food and water. I am very sorry to have stopped you from your walk.” Louisa eyed the maids beside her who waved their fans in her direction. A third maid appeared, placing a cool cloth around the back of Louisa’s neck. As Louisa’s face moved with her chewing and speaking, she could feel the dried tears on her cheeks. How embarrassing. She was a complete disaster.
“You must not apologize.” The woman smiled, patting Louisa’s knee. “Everyone is a little lost every now and then.”
“That is true, indeed.” Louisa managed a small smile before a laugh escaped her. “Some more often than others.”
The woman’s eyes widened as she nodded in agreement. “Well, there is only one way to avoid ever getting lost—having no destination to seek. It is better to have one, is it not?”
Louisa watched the way the young woman’s eyes danced with intelligence and deep thought, a smile hovering on her lips. Finally Louisa had met an amiable person. Louisa laughed, eating the last of her food. “I must agree, yes.” All Louisa needed to do now was figure out what exactly her next destination was. A lofty task, to be sure. But this woman seemed eager to help in any way she could.
“My manners have entirely escaped me today. My name is Miss Louisa Rosemeyer. What is your name?” Louisa asked.
The young woman gave a warm smile. “Miss Cassandra Warwick.”
