by Laura Martin
‘I’d love to,’ Louisa said.
She wanted to support Mrs Knapwell’s cause. The older lady had been so kind to her over the last few days and she wanted to do something in return. Plus, it would do her good to stop mulling over her own problems for a change and think about other people.
‘Is there space for one more?’ Robert asked.
Louisa watched him as he waited for Mrs Knapwell’s reply, knowing how much courage it had taken him to ask to spend the day with his friend’s mother.
‘I’d be delighted and honoured if you would accompany us, Lord Fleetwood,’ Mrs Knapwell said sincerely.
‘You don’t mind postponing our riding lesson?’ Robert asked.
Louisa shook her head. The idea of a riding lesson with Robert was tempting, but there would be plenty of other opportunities. It wasn’t as if she was going anywhere.
It was only a few seconds later that Louisa realised what she had just thought. She wasn’t going anywhere. Only a week ago she’d been so set on striking out on her own she’d risked her life and her safety by sneaking off into the deserted streets of London in the middle of the night. Now she was unconsciously planning ahead, thinking of the future, a future that involved Robert.
‘We can do it another time. I’m not going anywhere,’ she said softly.
Robert grinned at her. ‘You’re not going anywhere,’ he repeated.
If Mrs Knapwell thought their exchange strange, she didn’t comment. She smiled at them both.
‘I’m on my way to the orphanage now, but if it’s too early for you I can give you the address and you can follow later.’
‘Can you wait for ten minutes whilst we gather everything together?’ Robert asked.
Louisa nodded. This was encouraging. Robert wasn’t taking the opportunity to spend less time with Mrs Knapwell as he would have not twenty-four hours ago. She’d given him a very easy way out and he’d chosen to spend more time in her company.
‘Of course.’
Louisa followed Robert out of the room
‘Thank you,’ Louisa said.
‘What for?’
‘For putting me first.’
Robert looked at her oddly. ‘I will always put you first, Louisa,’ he said, before striding up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Louisa stared after him and wondered exactly what he meant by it. It sounded almost like a declaration of love. Louisa chided herself. It was nothing of the sort. It was the words of a diligent guardian looking out for his ward. She told herself to stop reading so much into his innocent words. He didn’t love her, he cared for her. She couldn’t ask for anything more. She didn’t want anything more. Or at least that’s what she told herself. Love would complicate matters. She was just learning to trust again. She needed to take things slowly and not get ahead of herself.
Chapter Seventeen
Robert leant against the wall and watched Louisa bend forwards and exchange a few words with one of the orphans. She was a natural in this situation; her past experiences meant she could interact easily with people from all different social classes without even thinking about it. Before they’d left his town house Robert had warned Louisa again not to let anything slip about her past. They were mainly among friends here, but you never knew who was listening. One wrong word and Louisa’s past could be exposed and with it her future ruined.
‘Twice in two days, Fleetwood,’ Dunton’s familiar voice called as he came up beside Robert. ‘Didn’t expect to see you here after your rapid departure last night.’
So it had been noted. Dunton must have seen his face for he continued. ‘Don’t worry, I made sure you weren’t missed too much. I have to say it was your ward everyone was asking about, not you.’
Robert grunted.
‘As eloquent as ever, I see.’
‘What are you doing here?’ Robert asked.
The Southwark Orphanage for Girls was a worthy cause, but apart from Robert and one or two elderly gentlemen, the gathering was mainly female.
‘Mrs Knapwell asked me to come,’ Dunton said.
‘I didn’t know you two were acquainted.’
They certainly hadn’t been before the three of them had left for war. Although Robert and Knapwell had been good friends with Dunton it wasn’t the sort of friendship you took home to meet your parents. They’d spent their evenings drinking and debating as most students did.
‘I went to see her after we got home,’ Dunton said. ‘Thought she might like to know what had happened to her son.’ There was no reproach in his voice. ‘I went to see her a few times after that. She was grieving, but she appreciated the chance to talk about Knapwell.’
‘I should have gone,’ Robert said.
He had been to see her once. It had been terrible. Mrs Knapwell had hugged him and cried. She’d thanked him for being such a good friend to her son and all the time Robert had just stood there, unable to say anything, unable to offer any words of comfort, knowing he was the reason her son was dead.
‘You’re here now,’ Dunton said simply. ‘You don’t know how much that means to Mrs Knapwell.’
Robert nodded. The older woman had been positively beaming throughout the carriage ride south of the river and she’d proudly introduced him to each of her friends once they’d arrived at the orphanage.
‘I talked to Louisa about it last night,’ Robert said quietly.
‘About the war?’
‘And about Ana.’
He felt Dunton go completely still beside him. Robert never talked about Ana. Even when Dunton had tried to bring up the issue he dodged the subject.
‘What did she say?’
Robert shrugged. ‘She told me it wasn’t my fault and that I had to start forgiving myself.’
‘Sensible girl.’
They stood in silence for a few minutes, watching the upper-class guests interact with the shy orphan girls.
‘You should marry her,’ Dunton said suddenly.
Robert spun to face him, unsure whether he was joking.
‘I’m being serious. She’s good for you.’ Dunton laughed at the expression on his face. ‘Why not?’
‘I’ve only known her a week.’
‘Exactly. You’ve only known her a week and look what a change she’s brought about already. You’re out in public, you’re interacting with people. And I swear I’ve actually seen you smile.’
Robert deepened his glower just to prove his friend wrong.
‘Admit it, for the first time in years you’re actually happy.’
He remained silent. Glancing over at Louisa, he felt the familiar tightening inside his stomach as she smiled. He loved her smiles.
‘I’m never going to marry.’
‘Poppycock.’
Robert turned back to his friend and said seriously, ‘I’m not exactly a good judge of character when it comes to women.’
Dunton laughed. ‘You made one mistake. You were exhausted after months of guerilla warfare and Ana offered rest and recuperation in her arms. Any man would have fallen for it. Plus she was a professional spy.’
He made good points, but Robert still knew marriage just was not for him.
‘She was trained in deception and treachery. You can’t swear off women just because one deceives you.’
‘Deceives me and in the process kills my men and my best friend.’
Dunton fell silent for a few seconds. ‘Miss Turnhill could be good for you,’ he said eventually. ‘I only spoke to her for a short while, but that was enough to know she is sweet and kind and doesn’t have a deceitful bone in her body.’
That much was true at least. Robert knew Louisa would never betray him the way Ana had.
‘So your plan is to spend your life alone and miserable?’ Dunton
asked.
He had to admit it didn’t sound appealing when put like that.
‘She won’t wait for you for ever, Fleetwood. Look at her with those orphans.’
Robert glanced over again at Louisa. She was smiling and laughing with a small child. The little girl reached up and took Louisa’a hand and proceeded to lead her to the next table in the room, pointing things out as she went. He couldn’t hear what Louisa was saying, but it must have been something complimentary as the girl beamed up at her in response.
‘She’ll want children, a home of her own.’
He thought Dunton was getting a bit ahead of himself here. Just over a week ago Louisa was locked in a cell all day with only her imagination for company. Surely she’d be content with spending her time with just him for a little longer.
‘She’s what, eighteen? Nineteen?’ Dunton asked.
‘Nineteen.’
‘Already most young women have had their coming out by this point. Half are married by her age.’
Robert realised his friend had a point.
‘A beautiful young woman like Louisa isn’t going to struggle to find a husband, but people will wonder why she waited so long if she doesn’t have her debut soon.’
Robert felt slightly sick at the thought of Louisa marrying another man. He recalled their kiss and felt the same flood of desire crashing over him as it always did when he pictured her lips brushing against his. He couldn’t deny he wanted her, desired her. Every time she flashed him a smile he imagined her underneath him, writhing in ecstasy, his hands and lips exploring her naked body.
Yes, he desired her, but he knew he couldn’t have her. She deserved so much better. After nine years of misery and loneliness she deserved only the best. And Robert was far from the best. She deserved someone who could devote every waking minute to making her happy, someone who could make her laugh and smile, not someone who was still half living on a battlefield in Portugal.
He wondered for a second what life would be like if he did marry her. Waking up to her smile every morning, kissing her as she banished the last remnants of sleep from her body, but he knew he had to stop himself. It was just too painful otherwise.
‘She’d say yes if you asked,’ Dunton said quietly before clapping Robert on the shoulder and walking away.
Robert watched as Louisa was introduced to two of the other patronesses by Mrs Knapwell. She listened intently to whatever they were saying to her, nodding in all the right places. She was blossoming before his eyes into a confident young woman.
Would she say yes? Robert asked himself. She’d responded instinctively to his kisses, even if she had seemed unaffected after the first. And she had heard the very worst things about him, the secrets he had vowed never to tell another living person, and she’d still stuck around.
It didn’t matter if she would say yes, Robert chided himself, he wasn’t going to ask her to marry him. He might have decided to start the process of forgiving himself for what had happened in St Mamede, but he wasn’t going to allow himself to get romantically involved with any woman, let alone his ward.
‘I’m so pleased you could come, Lord Fleetwood,’ Mrs Knapwell said as she bustled over to him. Louisa was still listening intently to what the other patronesses were saying, holding the little girl’s hand at the same time.
‘It’s my pleasure,’ Robert said. Surprisingly it was the truth. It felt good to be out in public, supporting a good cause.
‘Miss Turnhill seems to be enjoying herself.’
Robert’s eyes had never left Louisa. ‘Thank you for thinking to invite her,’ he said. ‘I fear having a grouchy man as her guardian that perhaps she’s missing out.’
‘Don’t put yourself down, Lord Fleetwood. You’re doing a wonderful job as her guardian,’ Mrs Knapwell chided.
Robert thought of the stolen kiss on Mrs Knapwell’s terrace the night before and knew he was not safeguarding Louisa’s reputation as well as he should.
‘And it’s clear she adores being with you.’
‘I think she has done much more for me than I for her,’ Robert said quietly.
Mrs Knapwell looked at him astutely, nodding her head. ‘I’d probably have to agree.’
‘I want to apologise,’ Robert said, taking a deep breath and tearing his eyes away from Louisa, instead focusing them on Mrs Knapwell’s face.
‘Whatever for?’
‘I should have been there for you,’ Robert said, ‘when we returned from the war.’
Mrs Knapwell shook her head and patted him kindly on the arm.
‘No,’ Robert insisted, ‘Greg was my best friend and you were like a mother to me all those years we were at school together. You deserved better.’
‘You were hurting,’ Mrs Knapwell said. ‘We all mourn in our own way. I’m just glad you’re here now. I couldn’t bear it if you shut yourself away your whole life. Guilt isn’t a reason for living.’
They stood side by side for a few minutes, taking comfort in each other’s company.
Robert glanced back at Louisa. She had been led off by her young guide and was now on the other side of the hall. He saw Mrs Knapwell follow his gaze.
‘I need your help with something,’ Robert said, somewhat reluctantly.
‘Of course, anything.’
‘Miss Turnhill is a lovely young woman, but it has been pointed out she isn’t getting any younger and if she doesn’t make her debut into society soon she may not make a good match.’
‘You want her to get married?’ Mrs Knapwell asked, sounding a little shocked.
‘I want her to be happy.’
The older woman looked at him strangely for a few seconds, then nodded.
‘Of course you do, my dear.’
‘She’ll want children, a house of her own,’ Robert repeated Dunton’s words.
‘With a man she loves,’ she added.
‘Of course.’
‘And you think she needs to be launched into society to find these things.’ It was said as a statement more than a question.
‘Well, she’s hardly going to find someone suitable cooped up in my study all day.’
Mrs Knapwell gave him a long, hard look, then let out a sharp little exhalation of breath.
‘I would really appreciate your help and guidance on the matter.’
‘Of course I’ll help, if that’s what you think is best for her.’
Robert nodded.
‘I always wanted a daughter to launch into society. She’ll be a success, you know.’ It was phrased rather like a warning.
‘I know,’ Robert said grimly, trying to block out the picture of Louisa being surrounded by a flock of admiring gentlemen.
Chapter Eighteen
‘Would you like to see my favourite place on earth?’ asked Gertie, the little orphan who had taken a shine to Louisa.
‘I’d love to.’
Gertie tugged Louisa through the crowd of people and out the door into the main hallway.
‘You won’t get into trouble, will you?’ Louisa asked, not wanting to be the reason this sweet little girl was punished.
Gertie pulled a face. ‘No one will even notice I’m gone.’
Louisa thought this was a sad state of affairs, but the young orphan didn’t seem to mind too much.
‘I’ll show you my room first,’ Gertie announced.
Louisa followed the child up the wide staircase and on to the first-floor landing. The orphanage was rather grey and dreary. It reminded Louisa of the Lewisham Asylum in its colour scheme. She supposed all of these institutions where they shut the unwanted away from the rest of the world were decorated in greys and browns.
‘This is my bed,’ Gertie said as they entered a large dormitory. There must have been at least twenty meta
l cots lining the walls. There was just space to squeeze between them. Each of the beds was identical and there were no personal items to identify the inhabitants.
‘So is this your favourite place, Gertie?’ Louisa asked.
The little girl pulled a face and looked at Louisa as though she were mad.
‘No. This is my least favourite place. I even prefer the laundry room to here. In here I’m the youngest and the other girls are always telling me I won’t understand their conversations or that I’m too young to be included.’ Gertie pulled a face and muttered, ‘I’m not too young. And I’m cleverer than most of those halfwits.’
She spun around suddenly and grabbed Louisa’s hand. Quickly they left the dormitory and dashed along the corridor. They stopped outside a narrow wooden door. Gertie looked carefully from the left to the right, then turned the handle and slipped inside. Louisa followed her.
‘I showed you the dormitory so you’d understand why I liked it up here so much,’ Gertie explained as they climbed a rickety staircase.
They seemed to climb for a good few storeys and Louisa wondered where the young girl was taking her.
When they reached the very top of the building Gertie flung open another door and light flooded into the stairwell. Louisa had to squint whilst her eyes adjusted to the brightness.
‘Come on,’ Gertie instructed as she stepped onto the roof.
Louisa followed her into the fresh air, picking her way over discarded tiles and pieces of guttering. She realised they were on the flat ledge that ran around the top of the building. To one side was the slanted roof and to the other was a long drop to the street.
Gertie stopped suddenly and sighed contentedly.
‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ she said.
Louisa followed her gaze out over the rooftops of London. She had to admit it was rather impressive. The sky was hazy, but she felt as though she could see for miles. Off to the right and over the river she could see the awe-inspiring dome of St Paul’s Cathedral. Farther away was the tall tower that commemorated the awful fire of 1666. Over to the left was the impressive sight of Westminster Abbey, towering over everything else in awe-inspiring splendour. And between the unmistakable grand buildings of London the River Thames snaked across the landscape, a murky grey slash dividing the rich and the poor.
