CHAPTER TWELVE
They arrived back in Edward Street to find that a letter had arrived for her ladyship.
Louisa picked it up, instantly recognising the distinctive hand, and her own trembled very slightly.
It had been nearly a month since their departure from Elliston Court, and she had heard from Lady Holdenby but nobody else in the district.
She tried to tell herself it was for this reason that she felt a tremor of nervous anticipation, but she was not a good liar, even to herself.
She slipped the letter into her reticule without revealing the sender to Hetty, and resolved to read it ‘sometime later’ in her own chamber.
It was a good plan, and it failed utterly.
As soon as she was in front of her mirror, tidying her bonnet-crushed hair, she knew she had to read it.
She told herself not to be foolish, and to make herself wait sensibly.
After all, it was just a letter from a neighbour.
She saw her own blush in her reflection, and addressed the looking glass.
Dear Lady Dembleby,
I have waited this long before writing so as not to seem to be pestering you when you were settling in Bath.
I trust that it is providing entertainments, however mild, to occupy your thoughts more happily than when we last met, and that Miss Emily has taken George and Georgina and her ark with her.
I anticipate that I will be expected to name each and every pair of animals that she must line up to enter its hull.
Knowing that I would be writing to you, I rode over to Elliston Court a few days ago, and spoke with Mrs Knowle, and with Josiah Wyre.
All is well, and the wife of Edmund Lulsely at Beechhanger Farm has been safely delivered of a son, which led to a considerable consumption of cider and sore heads among his friends and neighbours.
I am, of course, not exposed to the local gossip prevalent among the ladies of the district, and my 186mother is receiving few visitors at present, but from what little I have heard, second or third hand, the current topic is now Mrs Lipscomb’s niece in Suffolk, who has run away with a youthful lawyer.
He had joined the firm that deals with the family’s affairs, and has provided an ‘affair’ of a very different sort.
You will be glad to hear that you are thus relegated in the parlours of the gossipmongers.
I cannot say that my mother is yet in any way recovered in spirits.
She has invited her sister to come and stay with her for a while, although in normal circumstances she finds my aunt Sophia a great trial, since she is much inclined to take over the house.
Whilst I am sure you would prefer it if I remained at a suitable distance, I think I ought to ‘warn’ you that I am minded to bring them both to Bath within the month, if my mother does not show improvement.
I think a change of scene would help her, for she sees so much of my father’s presence still in Woodend Hall.
I sincerely hope that you will not cut me dead if I do so.
I remain, always,
Your devoted servant,
Barkby
Louisa bit her lip. The thought of him coming to Bath made her heart pound in her chest. She dreaded seeing him, yet wanted it above all things. How many times already had she wished that she could have shared something 187overheard or seen? How much did thinking upon him cheer her?
‘Too much,’ she apostrophised herself. ‘Mr Gilmorton cheers you also, however, and is simply a friend. Treat Lord Barkby in just the same manner and …’ She stopped, and shut her eyes. Mr Gilmorton had not declared his love for her.
Why was everything so complicated? The new life she had, the independent one where she did not have to refer to a man for permission to spend money, to do things, was such a liberation.
She exulted in it, yet at the same time she found this particular man’s presence both a reassurance and a pleasure.
She even felt a thrill at his proximity, though she would not term it ‘desire’.
She had not felt wildly passionate about Dembleby, even when they were betrothed.
He had seemed pleasant and it was nice to be fêted by a man and treated as special, but she had never experienced a need for his embraces, and once she was married she had discovered all about ‘passion’.
It was merely a word to cover the satisfaction of a man’s selfish needs, something that would hopefully be over quickly.
Since Dembleby never even spoke to her at such times she was not even sure if he registered her as a person.
It was a further proof that as a married woman she was nothing.
She did not want that again. A voice inside her whispered that it might not be like that with Lord Barkby, but she accused it of being silly and romantic, and put the letter away in a drawer.
188Despite it distracting her from thoughts of Lord Barkby, it could not be expected that Louisa would anticipate Lady Brailes’ call with any enthusiasm, since she had no doubt that Frederick would manage to accompany his mother and sister, upon the pretext of support for his ailing parent.
If it had been only Caroline then the situation would have been entirely different, for they had been in almost fortnightly communication since Louisa left Berkshire.
The friendship that had begun upon Louisa’s return to Deerswell had blossomed upon crossed pages between the two young women who had few friends their own age, and had discovered similarities in attitude.
When Leece announced ‘Lady Brailes, Mr Brailes and Miss Brailes’, Louisa took a deep breath, and her smile was a little forced. She rose as they entered.
‘How nice of you to call. You must know I was sorry to hear that you had been ill over Christmastide, Lady Brailes. Has it proved so difficult to recuperate?’
‘Oh n … well, I am not strong, and the weather has been so damp. I would not have thought of Bath had not my dear Frederick suggested it.’ Lady Brailes shot a swift glance at her son as she was invited to take a seat.
So, thought Louisa, they really are here because of Frederick, not some doctor’s advice. Has he told her he wants to try and fix his interest with me, or has she simply guessed?
‘Mama is too stoic, Lady Dembleby. She puts a brave face upon things, even when …’ Frederick was swift to support his parent. ‘In truth, I think the fair sex nobly attempt to ignore … the fact is that they are more delicate.’ 189He smiled. Louisa was shocked to see that he genuinely believed it.
‘You make us sound feeble creatures, Mr Brailes,’ she said, with a wry look.
‘Oh no, not feeble, ma’am. It is a most derogatory … Ladies are objects to be revered, adored, set above, not … We men exist to serve the goddess that is woman.’ He was pleased with this phrase, and nodded his head a little, commending himself.
‘I would find life upon a pedestal vertiginous,’ remarked Caroline, ‘and intensely boring. Statues have absolutely nothing to do.’ She grinned at Louisa, who was looking rather taken aback. ‘They also rarely wear enough clothing to keep warm in even the mildest climates.’
‘My dear sister likes to jest,’ murmured Frederick.
He never quite understood Caroline, who resolutely refused to be ‘delicate’.
No doubt, he thought, this was why she had not found a suitor.
He found it annoying, as well as perplexing.
‘Gentlemen always prefer young ladies who have a delicacy of nature … and of form.’ He could not resist a sly dig.
Whilst it would be useful to have Caroline about the house whilst their parents lived, she would one day be a burden upon him, not being blessed with a dower house in which to place her.
Lady Brailes winced, and Caroline looked daggers at him. Louisa was embarrassed as well as angered.
‘I think, Mr Brailes, many gentlemen appreciate a lady who is capable, and can act in an emergency. Why, only a little before Christmas, my own home was broken into by house-breakers, and the gentleman who ensured the 190attempt was unsuccessful sustained bloody injuries. Had I been so delicate as to have fainted clean away at the sight of blood, where would he have been? I am positive he was glad of the aid I could render.’
‘It was wrong of him to place you in that situation, Lady Dembleby.’ Frederick Brailes was horrified.
‘I do not think he set out to be wounded, sir.’
‘Oh, the gallant major from your letters,’ interjected Caroline.
Louisa had not been aware of mentioning Lord Barkby more than once or twice, if at all.
‘A military man. Ah, that explains it. They have no sensibilities, and often loose morals, so … And are used only to rough soldiers’ wives, not fair English womanhood.’ Frederick considered soldiering fit for scoundrels and wastrels.
Louisa bit back the retort that sprang to her lips. There was no comparison between the man before her and the officer of dragoons. She could not imagine Frederick Brailes playing with Emily, could not imagine him understanding, even in the slightest, her wanting to remain single.
‘There are officers’ wives who follow the drum, Frederick, and I hardly think dear General Cowley’s wife was “rough”,’ Caroline chided.
‘How is the general?’ Louisa wanted to move the conversation to a safer topic. ‘I heard from my papa that he had been confined to his house for much of the winter, and he has not replied to my last letter, just after Christmas.’
‘Rather frail, I am sad to say, and he has not relished 191the “incarceration”, as I believe he calls it. Sir Daniel saw him but two weeks past and he was complaining, not of his aching old bones, mark you, but the doctor forbidding him his port, and threatening to cup him at weekly intervals.’ Lady Brailes sighed.
‘Sir Daniel said he spoke of his late wife a great deal. I think that when a couple remain, they sustain one another.’