“Papa…” She was grasping at straws. There was no shame in wanting to learn and to impart knowledge to others. Moreover, it was vastly unfair of Papa to suddenly make an about-face about London, after years of their cozy, intimate family life in Bath. Anger and frustration began to lay claim to her. “If you miss seeing me as often as you wish, why do you want to marry me off?”
“Louisa, do be sensible,” Amelia put in languidly, from her position on the settee. “You need to find a good husband. It’s not as bad as you think. What’s more, you should be thankful to Papa. A London Season sounds like such fun. I wish I’d had one before I married John.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to marry,” Louisa argued. Her voice was rising and that usually meant the end of her effectiveness as an orator. At any moment, Papa would tell her she was silly, and Amelia would roll her eyes in a huff, and she’d lose any hope of winning this debate. “I simply cannot leave the children for that many months. Lucy needs me as a teacher.”
“You aren’t a teacher.” Amelia sat up, her indolent pose giving way to sharpness that spoke of exasperation. “You’re a lady. It’s time you found a suitable match.”
“I am so a teacher. I have twenty children in my care. Papa,” she turned to her father, clasping her hands in an imploring gesture. “Please don’t make me give them up. I love teaching so much. If you could only see the looks on my pupils’ faces every morning when they come in…”
Papa put up his hand to stem the flow of her words, his signet ring glinting in the light that streamed in from the fading sunshine. “LouLou, my darling, Amelia is right. You are not a teacher. You are a lady, and it’s time you began heeding what is expected of you.”
Hot tears pricked the backs of Louisa’s eyes. “Father…” That was her sign that she’d had enough. When she was angry or upset, she reverted to calling him Father. Only when she was happy did she refer to him as Papa.
Lord Anthony noted this abrupt name change with a rueful shake of his head. “You have always been a tough nut to crack, but never let it be said I was an unfair man. I’ll compromise with you. You may continue teaching at the veterans’ group until we begin making preparations to leave at the end of February. I respect Miss Williams, and I do not want to snatch you away if you really are contributing to the school. Leaving her short a helper would be most rude when she has been such a boon to our family.”
February was a mere nine months away. But if she put her mind to it, she could find a way to extricate herself from this predicament in the meantime. Or at the very least, delay it as long as possible. She cast her hands up in temporary defeat. “Very well, Papa. We have an agreement.”
“Good.” Her father rubbed his hands together briskly. If he was surprised by her sudden capitulation, he was too good of a businessman to note it. That’s what made her father such a formidable foe in this challenge. “Louisa, pour some tea. Amelia, tell me about John. I want to hear all the news from Spencer Hall.”
Louisa poured herself a steaming cup of Darjeeling, keeping her eyes meekly lowered as Amelia prattled away. She could enlist Lucy’s aid, surely. Lucy would understand her side of the matter, and would rally to her defense. After all, Lucy had offered her the position at her school.
Yes, between the two of them, they would come up with a plan of action. After all, they had several months to think and plan.
Surely if Wellington could defeat Napoleon at Waterloo, she could find a way to skirt the Marriage Mart and hold fast to her hopes of being a teacher at the school for the rest of her life.
~*~
Thomas paused for a moment outside his family townhome in the Crescent. The houses, uniform and precise in their matching beauty, formed an austere half-circle that imprisoned him. Aye, he was a prisoner in so many ways. He had no gift and no liking for the refined life. When he lied about his age and joined his brother’s regiment, he’d been somewhat free. Indeed, that was the most license he ever enjoyed. It was a short-lived freedom.
When Matthew died, memories of his death formed Thomas’ first prison. Then when Jacob died, he acquired a new gaol, its walls made of duties to which he was completely unequal. His only hope of liberation—and it was a small sliver of hope indeed—was by helping other men with the veterans’ group. Perhaps by helping others he could finally emancipate himself from his imprisonment.
Heaving a heavy sigh, he let himself in.
His butler, Beckwith, accosted him as he stepped over the threshold. “Her ladyship is waiting for you in the library, Lord Thomas.”
Thomas gritted his teeth. “Thank you, Beckwith.” Tea with Mother could only mean one thing—a lecture. He was in a sore mood to be lectured at the present moment. He ran his hand through his hair and straightened his cravat.
Better to be done with it. No use putting her off. Her need to harangue would only grow the longer he delayed.
He strode across the vestibule and down the corridor of his beautifully-appointed home. Funny, he felt more at home in a field shrouded in gun smoke than he did here in these elegant, tasteful rooms. His mother had decorated it all, down to the curtains framing each window. This was more her home than his.
He opened the door to the library, and Mother glanced up from her position by the fire. Without pausing in her embroidery work, she cast him a regal smile. “Thomas. My dear son.”
“Mother.” He placed a kiss on her cheek and then sat opposite her, savoring the breeze blowing gently through the open windows. “I don’t think I have ever seen your hands idle. You are always busy with some handiwork.”
“Well, I must keep busy, you know.” She set her work aside and surveyed it with a critical air, her blue-grey eyes narrowing. “I think I shall set it aside for the moment, though. I have much to talk about with you.”
And thus it began. “Yes, Mother?”
She folded her still-beautiful hands, and regarded Thomas with a grave air. “Thomas, it’s time for you to find a wife. Someone who can help you with all this.” She tilted her head, gazing about the library. “Jacob took too long about it, and he died without a wife or an heir. Matthew, too. I am quite concerned about the fate of our family if you continue to tarry.”
“Mother, Jacob passed away not six months ago. Our family is still in mourning. It would hardly be fitting for me to be courting at this time.” Perhaps if he reminded her of etiquette, she would retreat. “What would people say if I began showing up in ballrooms looking for ladies to squire?”
His mother delicately arched one eyebrow. “I daresay you are correct,” she murmured. “But isn’t there some young lady you could begin making overtures toward? Someone you rather fancy? I am certain if we kept matters rather quiet, you could begin courting even whilst in mourning.”
An image of Louisa Bradbury’s laughing brown eyes flashed across his memory. She was the perfect mate for a man in his position. Well-bred and high-born, and because her family was as well-to-do as his, there would be no gossip about one marrying the other for money.
Rebellion surged through him. No, he would not follow that path. Not that he had anything against Louisa Bradbury, for she seemed a jolly enough girl, but she also represented the very world from which he was trying to escape. Girls like Louisa would trap a man into a prison of duties and responsibilities, with no hope of liberation. He was not ready to be imprisoned in that manner just yet. There still might be a possibility somewhere, somehow, of finding a way to shed this cloak of accountability.
“I know of no one,” he pronounced. “Frankly, I find the thought of seeking a bride while mourning Jacob repugnant.”
Her ladyship heaved a great sigh. “Very well. I shan’t press you to start before we come out of mourning. But I do implore you to begin turning your mind to marriage. Please promise me you will begin looking for a suitable match as soon as ever you can, Thomas. I am so worried about the fate of our family.”
Thomas glanced over at his mother. Was that a tremble he spied in her regal posture
? Certainly not--it could not be. Mother had endured so much already. The death of her husband and two sons had not bent her, and she still carried her blonde head high. In the late afternoon sunlight, hints of white glinted here and there among the golden threads. Mother was growing older. She had a right to worry about her own security.
It fell to him, wholly unprepared and mutinous as he was, to ensure her security. If only he could find a way to do so without becoming the head of the family. If only he could still find a way to remain a soldier, too. On the battlefield, everything was so clear. Death and life. Bravery and cowardice. There was vitality and a clarity to war that spoke to him, and which were completely snuffed out in a ballroom.
He stifled a rueful smirk. In a ballroom, he would be a wallflower, as surely as any young woman who had no one with whom to dance. If forced to go, he would shrink as far as possible out of sight, clinging to the hope that he could duck behind a curtain, open a window, and escape.
“I promise I shall make things right, Mother.” He rose and planted a kiss on the top of her head. He still had a few months to plan matters until Mother would begin pestering him again. He would find a way to ensure Mother’s security, honor Matthew’s memory, and regain that sense of vigor he’d let behind at Waterloo.
When Jacob was alive, he could wallow in the past. Now, however, he must find a way to grasp control of his future.
Chapter 3
“But Lucy, I don’t want to marry. Not now. I love learning more each day, and sharing what I know with my students. My life would be so dreary if I couldn’t continue to expand my knowledge and help others to do the same. I finally have a purpose in life.” Louisa blew her nose into her handkerchief. She had to control her emotions, for the children would be trooping into the room soon from their afternoon recess. “I love my pupils so.”
Lucy patted her back with a tender gesture. “Louisa, while I appreciate your hard work and your dedication to your students, you must have seen this day coming. Your father has every right to urge you to marry. You must begin thinking of the responsibilities you are facing.”
“But you are a teacher, and you are married.” In fact, when Lucy married Ensign Rowland, Papa gifted her the money to start this school as a wedding present. Louisa furrowed her brow. Why did she, as a daughter of the gentry, have to adhere to a different set of rules? This interview wasn’t going at all like she expected.
“True, but then, I am nobody. My husband and I are very humble working people, he as a carpenter and I with my school. I was never expected to take on more than what I’ve assumed. You, on the other hand, have known since birth—and have been trained for years—on the role you are expected to fulfill in your family.”
Despair flooded Louisa’s soul. Lucy was supposed to be comforting her and agreeing with her, not taking Papa’s side in the matter. After all, Lucy was the one who asked her to begin teaching in the first place.
Louisa turned to face her former governess. “You told me that I was invaluable to the school when I started. Have I proven so poor a teacher that you cannot wait to get rid of me?”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Now, now. Don’t take on so. If you have one of your dramatic fits then I shan’t be able to reason with you at all. Of course I value you as a teacher. Everyone here at the Veterans’ Group applauds your efforts. Why, just the other day, Captain Cantrill remarked to me that you were such a boon to our efforts that he could hardly believe it.”
Captain Cantrill wasn’t one to make idle compliments. If he said something of that sort, it must be true. A tiny ray of hope pierced her misery. “So, if I am so invaluable, surely you must keep me on? Oh, Lucy, do talk to Papa. Make him see reason. Amelia was the swan, and I am just a silly little goose when it comes to fripperies and furbelows. I know I am supposed to be a teacher, not a diamond of the first water.”
Lucy shook her head decisively. “Indeed, I shall not. Imagine me calling upon my former employer only to order him about? Especially to instruct him in the raising of his own daughter.” Lucy gave a soft chuckle. “No, you must reconcile yourself to the duties and responsibilities of your position, Louisa. Are you the same girl who cried when Amelia made her debut whilst you stayed behind in the schoolroom? You should be thrilled at the chance of a London Season. Why, it’s more than your sister experienced when she was out.”
Louisa sighed, glancing out the schoolroom window. The sun shone merrily, bathing the room in yellow light. How ungenerous of it to be such a fine day when she was so miserable. The world, by rights, should be painted in grey. “I don’t deny that I was jealous of Amelia,” she admitted. Amelia’s gowns, designed by their personal seamstress Sophie Handley, were the height of glamorous sophistication. The balls and soirees had sounded so thrilling when they discussed them afterwards, Amelia’s bedroom lit only by guttering candlelight.
Through her work with the Veterans’ Group, Louisa had seen the poverty that good men and their families faced each day. All at once, the brilliance of her position in society had begun to crumble, like gold leaf flaking from an over-decorated ceiling. Who cared about a silk gown or the latest scandal when good, honest men couldn’t afford to feed their families? At the school, her presence was important, and the work she did mattered. Without it, she would be one more pampered chit in a crowded ballroom.
“It’s not a life I desire any longer.” She pronounced the words flatly, like champagne left out overnight. “I want to be a teacher for the rest of my life. I want to help people. I wish to make a difference.”
“If you choose to teach, a woman in your position in Society would not be able to marry. You would be a spinster forever, Louisa. Is that what you really want? You with your meddling, match-making instincts—don’t tell me you don’t wish a little romance for yourself.” Lucy smiled her most wheedling smile, one that caused the dimple to leap in her cheek.
For a brief moment, Louisa saw Thomas Wright as he had appeared in the doorway yesterday, his proud, aloof bearing setting him apart from all the men of her acquaintance. Lucy, in her usual plain-spoken way, had laid out the truth for her. Choosing spinsterhood would push any hope of a man like that out of her life. Yes, she loved to teach, but to do so, she must give up thoughts of marriage. Was she really ready to sacrifice everything for her calling?
“I have a little while to assure myself that this is the right choice,” she replied quietly. If Lucy wasn’t going to speak to Papa right away, and convince him that she should stay on as a teacher, then she must conform to Papa’s request, at least for the time being.“If, in nine months, I still wish to be a teacher, I shall depend upon your help, Lucy.”
Lucy shook her head and rose. “I know better than to tangle with you when your mind is set. I’ll leave you now. The students will be here soon.” She stooped and planted a kiss on Louisa’s forehead.
Louisa rested her chin in her hands as the children began drifting inside from outdoors. Did she really want to be a spinster? If one viewed marriage through the examples set by Captain Cantrill and Sophie Handley, or Lucy and Ensign Rowland, then getting married could be a grand adventure indeed. But, somehow, the standards for behavior and deportment were more relaxed for these couples. They were of a different social caste, and they could force the institution of matrimony to correspond to their ideals.
The, there was the case of Amelia. Her sister seemed happy enough as Lady John.
On the other hand, Amelia had always been more conscious of titles and wealth and privilege than Louisa.
No, there had to be more than one kind of marriage, depending upon one’s social position. In her case, as the spoiled daughter of Lord Bradbury, she must expect that her married life would be more akin to Amelia’s than Lucy’s.
Louisa forced a bright, cheerful smile as she looked up to face her students. She might as well enjoy every moment of teaching she could over the next several months, for unless she found another avenue of escape, she would be doomed to matrimony.
~*~
“Ah, Wright. I am glad indeed to see you.” Captain Cantrill rose as Thomas stepped into his office, the late afternoon sun gilding the modest little room. “I realized, after our meeting yesterday, that I should have given you more information about the kind of work you’ll be doing for our group.”
“I am ready and willing to help in any way you see fit.” Thomas sat in the chair opposite the captain. “I’m quite good at following orders.”
Cantrill nodded, scrambling through the piles of foolscap on his desk. “Excellent. Well, quite a few of our men leave their homes in other parts of England to come to Bath to take the waters. Many, if not most, end up staying here. So the temporary quarters they may find upon arrival are quite unsuitable for living in permanently, especially if they have families.”
Thomas nodded. “While I am sure the men would camp out in tents without complaint, as they had for years, the families warrant more stable and secure living arrangements.”
“Precisely.” Cantrill handed Thomas a piece of foolscap. “Already spring is giving way to summer, and the weather grows warmer every day. The families on this list are living in small, stifling places. Some of the men are simply begging on the street. It falls to you to find the people on this list a better place to live. We can supplement their meager incomes to help pay for these new homes, but to be perfectly frank, we need homes that are inexpensive and yet sanitary.”
Sweet Summer Kisses Page 17
