by Laura Martin
The truth was he had little interest in food. For years in the army he’d got used to eating whatever was available. More often than not it would be a sinewy rabbit or a watered-down stew. After a while he’d stopped noticing how the food tasted and had eaten it for sustenance only.
And since he’d returned from the war...well, nothing was the same, not even the fancy dinners he used to enjoy.
‘I let cook decide.’
Louisa looked at him as though he were mad.
‘Every night you could have anything, anything, you desire, and you let your cook decide.’
‘She does make very good choices,’ Robert said, motioning to the two empty bowls of soup the footman was whisking away.
‘Even so, I’d love to choose exactly what I was going to eat each and every day.’
Robert decided not to reveal he wouldn’t notice if it was a pheasant or a field mouse set down in front of him.
‘At the asylum we had gruel every day,’ Louisa said, surprising Robert with this little snippet of information, ‘and porridge for breakfast.’
Hence her dislike for gruel and porridge, he assumed.
‘And when I lived with my guardian he used to restrict my food if I did even the slightest thing wrong, but the servants often saved me a few scraps and leftovers.’
No wonder she’d devoured the soup as if it were her last meal on earth. Nine years of deprivation would do that to anyone.
‘Would you like to help Mrs Rust plan the meals for the next couple of weeks?’ Robert asked, surprising himself with the question.
For a second Louisa’s eyes lit up with excitement, then she became suspicious.
‘I’d love that,’ she said slowly, ‘if you truly are planning on keeping me around. But I’ll understand if you decide to sell me to that travelling fair. I am quite expensive to feed after all.’
The humour was back, her protective armour against the world.
Robert stopped himself from reaching out and taking her hand. He knew she wasn’t ready for that kind of contact yet. Instead, he leant forwards slightly and looked her in the eye.
‘You’re not going anywhere, Louisa,’ he said. ‘I’m your guardian and I promise you have a home here with me for as long as you want or need it.’
‘The last thing you want is a half-crazy penniless orphan getting in your way.’
This time Robert couldn’t stop himself reaching out to touch her, it was an automatic gesture.
‘You’re not crazy, Louisa,’ he said seriously.
And he believed what he was telling her. All his doubts from the asylum had been quashed a while ago. Louisa wasn’t insane, she was the victim of an awful old man’s plot to steal her inheritance.
‘Sometimes I feel it.’
It was said so quietly Robert barely heard her.
No, she wasn’t insane, Robert thought, but she’d been badly hurt by her experiences and he’d have to remember not to push her too hard.
‘You’re not crazy,’ he repeated, ‘and you need to stop telling yourself that you are.’
The footman chose that moment to bring in the main course. Robert lifted his hand from Louisa’s and sat back, watching as she tried to conceal her emotions.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Robert could tell Louisa was still thinking about his declaration and wondering if she could trust him. He knew the best thing to do was to give her time.
‘How will it work?’ she asked eventually.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You being my guardian, me living here. The whole thing.’
Robert could tell that how he answered her would be very important.
‘I’ve never been a guardian before,’ Robert said, buying himself some time to think. ‘I’m not sure what to do for the best.’
The military man in him perked up and Robert started to formulate a plan.
‘But I guess it all depends on you.’
Louisa leant forwards. He’d at the very least got her to engage.
‘For instance, would you prefer to live in town or the country?’
‘You have a house in the country?’ Louisa asked.
Robert thought of his extensive estate far away from the hustle and bustle of the city.
‘I have a house in the country,’ he confirmed.
She took another bite of beef and chewed whilst she thought.
‘I’ve never lived in London before,’ she said slowly. ‘At least not as a free woman.’
The Lewisham Asylum didn’t count.
‘Would you like to?’
‘I’d like to give it a go.’
‘Then why don’t we plan on spending a few weeks in London. I will have to employ a chaperone for you, a companion.’
Society would be scandalised at the thought of a gently bred young woman spending even a night alone in a house with a bachelor such as he, but Robert knew his servants would be discreet and he had no intention of telling anyone.
Louisa nodded, spearing a piece of carrot with her fork. She lifted it up to her mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully.
‘Tomorrow we’ll visit the modiste and get you some clothes of your own,’ Robert said, looking at Mrs Kent’s sizeable dress.
The last thing he wanted to do was spend his days visiting dress shops and interviewing companions, but he felt as though he owed it to Louisa. If he palmed her off on some female friend, she would probably feel as though he was abandoning her. Not that he had any obliging female friends in any case, or many friends at all for that matter. The last few years he hadn’t exactly been a social butterfly.
No, he’d have to spend a bit of time helping Louisa settle into her new life. Once she was used to living as his ward and had a suitable companion he would be able to back off a little and return to his normal life.
The footman entered one final time, bringing dessert. Robert watched as Louisa’s eyes lit up at the sight of the fruit crumble that was placed in front of her.
‘Do you like fruit crumble?’ he asked.
Louisa nodded and Robert was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
‘It was my mother’s favourite,’ she said.
He didn’t know what to say. Louisa stared for a few long moments at the dish in front of her, then stood abruptly.
‘Please excuse me,’ she said, then fled the room.
Robert was left staring at the door, wondering whether he should go after her.
‘Best leave her for the night,’ Mrs Kent said as she watched Robert pace the hallway. ‘Poor duck has had a hectic day, I’m sure she’ll be happier in the morning.’
Robert glanced up the stairs one final time before retreating to his study. He’d never professed to understand women.
Chapter Four
Louisa dried the tears from her cheeks and tested the door handle for the tenth time. It was strange not to be locked in and every few minutes she wondered if she’d imagined her freedom and just had to test the handle again.
The corridor outside her room was quiet. She’d listened as slowly the household had retired for the night and now she was sure she was the only one still awake. She looked left and right, allowing her eyes time to adjust to the darkness. There was no one there.
With one final glance into the bedroom Louisa stepped out into the corridor. As she crept along in the darkness she allowed her fingers to trail across the plush wallpaper, luxuriating in the expensive textures. Everything in this house was the polar opposite of the asylum, from the wallpaper and plush carpet to the kindness of the inhabitants. For a second Louisa hesitated. Maybe she was being foolish.
She probably was being foolish, but in her mind it was her only option. For a little while, during the delicious dinner Robert Fleetwood had given her, s
he’d allowed herself to dream. She’d wondered if he had meant everything he’d said: the promise of safety and security, the life of comfort as his ward. On first impressions he seemed a good man, an honest man, but despite all that Louisa knew she couldn’t stay with him.
She’d vowed to herself that if she ever escaped from the asylum she’d never be dependent on another human being again, and most especially not a man. Although in her darkest moments she’d dreamt of a man such as Robert coming to rescue her, Louisa knew fairy tales didn’t exist and she was better off relying only on herself. She had resigned herself to a lonely life, but loneliness was better than betrayal.
Silently she crept down the stairs, pausing every few steps to check no one else was stirring.
Louisa knew the streets of London were cruel and unforgiving to young women with no money or connections, but at least she would be dependent on no one but herself. She couldn’t bear growing close to Lord Fleetwood, starting to enjoy her new privileged lifestyle, only to have it ripped away again. It would be better never to experience it, to not know what that life could be like. Because it would be ripped away. It might be in a week or in a year, but Louisa knew that all good things in life didn’t last. One day, when she was least expecting it, her life would again be turned upside down.
Louisa reached the front door and quietly started to unlock it. Only a couple of minutes and she would disappear into the anonymity of the London streets. As she pulled the door open she wondered if she should leave a note for Lord Fleetwood, an explanation of why she had left, but decided against it. Although he might protest otherwise, Louisa doubted she was little more than an inconvenience to his ordered lifestyle. He’d saved her from the asylum and she didn’t doubt he was a good man, but he’d done it out of a sense of duty, to right the wrongs of his great-uncle. Within a few days she doubted she would even enter his thoughts.
Louisa wouldn’t forget him quite so quickly, though. Her knight in shining armour, the man who had actually believed she wasn’t insane and rescued her from a lifetime of misery locked in Lewisham Asylum. Louisa knew Robert Fleetwood’s face would grace her dreams for many nights to come.
She slipped out into the darkness and gently pulled the door closed behind her. As she heard the latch click she knew there was no going back now. Taking a deep breath, Louisa pulled the shawl Mrs Kent had lent her across her shoulders and walked down the steps. It was a chilly night, the sky was clear and cloudless and the air crisp, but Louisa was no stranger to cold. In the asylum the winter nights had been almost unbearable. More than once Louisa had thought she would perish from the icy temperatures alone.
With one final look at the house she’d felt most at ease in for the last nine years, Louisa hurried off down the street. It wouldn’t do to linger. Every second she remained, a little bit of her resolve weakened. She turned the corner at the end of the street and disappeared into the night.
* * *
Robert woke up, gasping for air. The screams and shouts that had been haunting him in his dreams faded into the darkness, but he was left with a pounding heart and his muscles tensed, ready for action. He knew if he closed his eyes he would see the faces of his fallen comrades as clear as the day they had died. He might have come home from the war over two years ago, but the awful sights he had seen still haunted him at night.
Slowly he sat up in bed and reached for the glass of water he kept on his nightstand. It was tepid, but as the liquid hit his throat, Robert didn’t care—it was more about distracting himself from his nightmare than needing a glass of water.
He sank back down on to his pillows and lay staring up at the ceiling, knowing he would not get a wink more of sleep. Not that he wanted to. If he succumbed to the tiredness that flowed through him, making his eyes droop, he knew he would be right back on the battlefield, looking at the agonised faces of his friends as they took their last breaths.
As he lay in the darkness he listened to the sounds of the house. It was quiet outside. His closest neighbours on either side were elderly couples who didn’t attend any social events and his house was off the main thoroughfare so they didn’t get many passing carriages. Inside the house there was the occasional creak of wood, but it sounded as though all the servants had retired for the night.
Robert was contemplating getting up and heading down to his study to look over some papers when the distinctive click of the front door being closed came to his ears. He listened for any further sound, but the house was entirely silent.
Rising quickly from his bed, he strode over to the window and pulled back the curtains. He looked out into the moonlit street. Louisa was just turning away from the house, pulling a woollen shawl tighter around her shoulders and walking off down the street.
For a moment Robert froze as his mind tried to process what he was seeing. He couldn’t understand why Louisa was out in the street, leaving his house.
After a couple of seconds he sprang into action. In this instant it didn’t matter why she was leaving, it just mattered that she was. Or more specifically that she was out on the streets of London all on her own in the middle of the night. Even in a neighbourhood like this Robert doubted she’d survive more than an hour before she ran into trouble.
He pulled on a pair of trousers and threw a shirt over his head. The foolish woman would be a few streets away by now. He had to find her before she disappeared into the anonymous heart of London. Slipping his feet into a pair of boots, Robert threw open his door, dashed along the corridor and bounded down the steps. Within seconds he was out the front door and onto the street. He set off in the direction he’d seen Louisa take from his window.
When he reached the corner there was no sign of her and Robert felt a stab of panic. He couldn’t lose her already, this young woman he’d promised to protect. He couldn’t fail her.
He set off at a jog, all the time glancing left and right, hoping to catch a glimpse of Louisa in her shapeless grey dress.
A coach sat at the end of the road, the driver leaning back against his seat. For a moment Robert thought the man must be asleep and cursed under his breath.
‘Good evening, sir,’ the man said without moving as Robert slowed his pace. ‘Fine evening for a walk.’
‘Have you seen a young woman walk past?’ Robert asked, sparing no time for pleasantries.
‘Oh, yes, sir, not two minutes ago. Pretty little thing in an awful oversized dress. Shouldn’t be out on the streets alone at this time of night.’
‘Which way did she go?’
The driver scratched his chin and Robert had to fight the urge to reach up and pull him from the seat. Didn’t the man understand the urgency?
‘Turned left on to Poplar Street,’ he said eventually.
Without stopping to thank the man, Robert dashed off. He ran down the entire length of Poplar Street. As he was approaching the end he wondered if the coach driver had sent him the wrong way. Surely he should have caught a glimpse of Louisa by now. She’d had a few minutes’ head start, but there was no reason why she’d be hurrying. He’d practically been sprinting for the last few minutes.
A cold ball of dread started to form in the pit of his stomach. What if she’d been snatched from the street, dragged into an alleyway, her screams muffled? He couldn’t stop the image of Louisa being attacked from settling in his brain and he felt the anguish rip through him. Another person he hadn’t been able to protect, another life destroyed because of his inadequacies.
Suddenly he was once again back on the battlefield, the unmoving faces of his fallen men surrounding him. He felt the darkness start to take over and his body start to shake.
A high-pitched scream drew him back to reality. Louisa. It had to be. No other woman would be foolish enough to be wandering the streets at this time of night.
He started running in the direction of the scream, all the time hoping he wasn’t go
ing to be too late.
Chapter Five
Louisa struggled against the hand that was pressed against her mouth, sinking her teeth into the fleshy palm. Her attacker pulled away from her for an instant and she took the opportunity to let out another scream.
‘Shut up,’ the man growled, slapping her across the face with such force her neck snapped back and her head hit the wall.
For an instant Louisa’s world went black. She fought the urge to let the darkness take over her, knowing she wouldn’t have a chance of escape if she lost consciousness.
As the world came back into focus Louisa opened her mouth to scream again, but quickly clamped her lips together as she saw the glint of light reflected off her attacker’s knife blade.
‘Good girl,’ the man murmured. ‘Just keep quiet and I won’t hurt you too much.’
Louisa very much doubted that. She didn’t know if this man planned to rob her or do something much, much worse, but she hoped she wouldn’t be around to find out.
She was just assessing whether she could outrun her attacker when a figure pounced from the shadows.
‘Oof,’ her attacker groaned as he received a fist to his abdomen.
Louisa backed away, glancing behind her and wondering if she should run. There was no guarantee her saviour was any nobler than the man he was now punching in the face.
She had just decided to make a run for it when a familiar voice growled, ‘Don’t even think of moving a muscle, Miss Turnhill.’
Her eyes widened with surprise. Her mysterious saviour, the man beating her attacker, was none other than Robert Fleetwood.
She didn’t disobey him.
The man who’d been attacking her managed to wriggle free from Robert’s grasp and without a backward glance scuttled off into the night.
Louisa was left alone in the alleyway with Robert.
Even in the darkness she could tell he was fuming.
‘I am going to escort you home,’ he said.
Louisa allowed him to tuck her hand into the crook of his elbow and pull her along beside him. He walked fast, his long legs eating up the distance in no time. Louisa nearly had to run to keep up with him, taking two steps for his every one.
