by Alec, Joyce
The first young lady snorted and rolled her eyes. “He has fooled you entirely, has he not?”
“Come now, Miss Smallwood,” Lord Raeburn interrupted, cajoling her to speak more about Lord Williamson. “You must have a better idea of his character than that. You cannot expect us to believe that he is a wonderful, untainted soul when we know that he has done something so uncouth!”
A chill ran through Louisa as she looked back into Lord Raeburn’s eager expression, knowing that she was going to have to ask them what it was they spoke of. “I am unaware of what he has done, Lord Raeburn. Therefore, I speak of what I know.”
Lord Raeburn laughed delightedly, making others join in as they all turned to Louisa as one, making her feel as though she were being mocked for her apparent lack of understanding of Lord Williamson’s true character. Even Lord Montague was laughing, his tone brash and grating over her skin painfully.
“Goodness, you are not at all inclined towards gossip, are you, Miss Smallwood?” Lord Raeburn teased eventually. “Else you would be aware of what has occurred, for it is already all over London.”
Louisa said nothing, her heart twisting painfully in her chest as she waited for Lord Raeburn to elaborate. She did not want to say anything more for fear that her heart might give way entirely, aware that a wave of tears was beginning to form behind her eyes.
“He was discovered in a rather…” Lord Raeburn tipped his head, evidently trying to think of a way to say what was required. “A rather delicate situation, one might say.” He chuckled, making the two ladies who had spoken to Louisa already blush and look away. “In a bawdy house, of all places!”
Louisa went sheet-white, her heart hammering with fright as a sense of horror began to rise up within her.
“Not that he did not pay what was owed, apparently,” chimed in another gentleman, grinning broadly at Louisa, who could neither speak nor move, it seemed. “It just took him some time to find his things, that is all!”
The crowd that surrounded Louisa began to laugh aloud, whilst she stood there silently, trying to take in what was being said about the gentleman she felt so much affection for. Lord Williamson had frequented a bawdy house? It was, she supposed, something that gentlemen were permitted to do, but they were always careful not to allow the ton to know of it, for fear of their reputation being thoroughly disgraced.
And now, it seemed, Lord Williamson had done precisely that.
“You—you are quite certain it was he?” she asked, her voice barely loud enough for any of them to hear, to the point that Lord Raeburn had to step forward and ask her to repeat what she said. When she did so, he laughed and shrugged.
“Of course I am sure,” he replied with a broad grin. “The fellow who was playing the hand of cards with Lord Williamson told me everything.”
Louisa blinked, not quite sure what to make of this. “I thought you said he was discovered in a rather awkward situation,” she replied, putting one hand to her stomach in an attempt to catch her breath. “And now you say he was playing cards?”
Lord Raeburn’s smile became dark, one side lifting slowly as the gleam in his eyes became almost malevolent. “You do not quite understand, Miss Smallwood, and that, I think, is for the best.” He lifted one eyebrow, still gazing at her. “It is possible, you know, for a gentleman to play cards and be discovered in a delicate situation, Miss Smallwood.” One of the ladies tittered, making Lord Raeburn smile all the more. “But as I said, at the very least, he did pay what was owed—once he had found his things.”
A sense of disgust began to roil in Louisa’s stomach, her hands tightening together as she clasped them in front of her. But, despite the urge to believe everything Lord Raeburn had said, to agree that it was utterly despicable and decide to turn away from Lord Williamson’s company, a small part of her held her back.
You always sought to find the truth amongst the rumors and the gossip, she thought, trying to be firm with herself. Why would you turn away from that now?
Drawing in a long breath, Louisa held Lord Raeburn’s gaze, steeling herself and trying to find a sense of courage from deep within her. She was not about to go back to that quiet, unobtrusive young lady who did not speak a word of what she felt or what went on in her heart. If there had ever been a time to ask questions, to discover the truth in all its entirety, then this was the moment.
“Might I ask, Lord Raeburn,” she began as the rest of those within the small group fell silent, giving her their full attention, “whether or not you can be certain that everything you speak of is true?”
Lord Raeburn frowned, his smile dropping from his face entirely. “Of course I am certain it is true, Miss Smallwood,” he replied, a line forming in between his brows as he frowned. “I have it on the highest authority that what I have been told is the truth.”
“By the gentleman who was there with Lord Williamson,” Louisa persisted, aware of how the two young ladies standing by her were now beginning to whisper amongst themselves. “The gentleman who was playing cards with him.”
“Yes,” Lord Raeburn agreed, looking at her with a slightly scornful gaze. “Does that satisfy you, Miss Smallwood?”
Louisa looked back into Lord Raeburn’s face, seeing the dark look in his eyes and practically feeling the rest of the crowd’s attention being drawn to her. Her heart began to pound, knowing that she could easily turn away from Lord Raeburn and agree that what had been said was more than enough evidence of the fact that Lord Williamson had been present, but her heart would not allow her to do so.
“No, it does not,” she told him, her words eliciting a gasp from one of the young ladies, who now looked at her with wide eyes. “What is the name of this gentleman, Lord Raeburn?”
Lord Raeburn blinked for a moment, his gaze darting to Lord Montague as though he sought Lord Montague’s opinion about whether or not he ought to share such an indelicate thing with Louisa.
“I hardly think that such a thing is required, Miss Smallwood,” Lord Montague murmured, his tone a little condescending as though he had some right to tell her what she ought or ought not to ask.
“And yet, I shall seek the answer, Lord Montague,” Louisa replied smartly, turning to him and looking into his surprised face with a sudden fierce sense of determination. She had to know the truth about what had been said of Lord Williamson, determined that she would not turn her back on him yet, even though everything within her told her that she was making a fool of herself by persisting. “I do not think it fair to pass judgment on another without being quite certain that everything that has been said is completely true.”
“Of course it is true!” Lord Montague protested, waving a hand in Lord Raeburn’s direction. “Why would a gentleman lie?”
Louisa hesitated, recalling how Lord Williamson had begged her not once, but on two separate occasions, to believe that he had not had anything to do with either Lady Burton or the bet. Something began to roll about her mind, making her begin to question what she knew of Lord Williamson. He had always seemed so eager, so desperate to be trusted, and yet, despite that, there was still more evidence of his supposed ungentlemanly behavior.
Something did not make sense. Louisa’s lips twisted, her frown growing steadily heavier. Surely if a gentleman was desperate to have a young lady believe that he was not a cad, that he was not a rogue nor a gentleman with poor morals, then he would do all he could to ensure that she did not have cause to fear that her consideration of him was wrong. Lord Williamson had vehemently protested that he had not planned to meet Lady Burton in the park, and then, only a few days later, had been met with another difficulty in the form of the two gentlemen stopping him to talk about the bet that he had placed. And now, it seemed, he had been discovered in a bawdy house, which, of course, would ignite rumors about him all through London.
Louisa shook her head, her head feeling heavy with the depth and weight of her thoughts. No, she had to discover all. She had to know which gentleman it was that had discovered Lord Wil
liamson so. Then, she would speak to that gentleman in as bold a fashion as she dared, to ensure that he had not made a mistake somehow. Liquor was always aplenty, Louisa knew, which meant that there was the possibility that something was awry.
“The gentleman might merely be mistaken, rather than lying outright, Lord Raeburn,” she said slowly, hearing the two young ladies begin to whisper furiously again. “The name of the fellow, if you please.”
Lord Raeburn looked back at her steadily, his lip curling slowly. Louisa, uncertain as to why her determination had brought about such a reaction, held his gaze without pause, refusing to look away or be cowed by the dark expression in his eyes.
“I hardly think—” Lord Montague began to protest, but Louisa held up one hand, silencing him with her gesture as she continued to regard Lord Raeburn.
“You are not to be put off, it seems,” Lord Raeburn said with a long, heavy sigh that held a good deal of weight. He glanced about the rest of those involved in the conversation, as though to share his disappointment over Louisa’s behavior, but Louisa still did not move. She could hear her heart beat in her ears, could feel the tension running straight through her, and still, she waited. Lord Raeburn, clearly now fully aware that she was not about to turn aside as he had hoped, sighed yet again and spread his hands.
“You are quite determined, are you not, Miss Smallwood?” he muttered, throwing yet another glance to Lord Montague. “Very well, I shall tell you.”
“I do not consider that wise, Lord Raeburn,” Lord Montague interrupted. “Surely there is no good reason to—”
“Lord Montague himself was the one to discover Lord Williamson,” Lord Raeburn continued, ignoring the gentleman entirely. “If you have questions, Miss Smallwood, then might I suggest that you direct them to Lord Montague instead of further inconveniencing me with them?”
Louisa, a good deal surprised that it was Lord Montague who had joined Lord Williamson at the bawdy house, turned her astonished gaze upon the gentleman whom, she noted, had gone a rather dull shade of grey. His eyes were roving from one place to the next, refusing to meet her gaze.
“Lord Montague?” she said softly, only for the music for the next dance to begin swirling about her.
Lord Montague started violently. “Ah,” he said quickly, recovering himself. “I am promised to Miss Elgin, I think, am I not?” He bowed, a smile on his face that did not quite cover the fright in his eyes as he looked towards one of the young ladies on Louisa’s left. “Shall we take to the floor?”
Wishing that she could prevent Lord Montague from leaving her side, her mind now buzzing with a thousand questions, Louisa could only watch in frustration as Lord Montague stepped away from her and led Miss Elgin away. She had a suspicion that Lord Montague would not return to her side for his dances, for there was obviously a good deal of reluctance on his part, not wishing her to ask him questions about why he himself had been at a bawdy house. Her heart twisted violently as her thoughts turned back to Lord Williamson, making her realize just how much she felt for the gentleman. She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust him so that she might allow her affections to break free completely, but for the moment, she could not do such a thing. There was still so much uncertainty, so much doubt and confusion that Louisa felt it cloud her mind, making her both frustrated and upset in equal measure.
Where is Lord Williamson?
Her eyes roved about the crowd as she turned away from Lord Raeburn and his companions without a single word. Their company had left a stale taste in her mouth and she did not want to linger any longer. There was much to be done, much to consider, and much to discover. The truth was hidden in the shadows, held back from the light by untruths, confusion, and the deep uncertainty that bound it all. Where was Lord Williamson? He had said that he would be present this evening, and yet, she could not see him. Would all of society mock him when he finally made an appearance? Would they turn from him, give him the cut direct? Or would gentlemen simply laugh and point, giving him a knowing look as though to say they approved of his choice of enjoyment?
Her heart slammed hard into her chest as she looked all about her, suddenly catching sight of Miss Martin. Miss Martin, her companion, who was failing in her duty entirely, given that she was not so much as glancing in Louisa’s direction. Setting her shoulders, Louisa made her way towards her companion, knowing that it was best that she kept near to her companion for propriety’s sake.
And then, Miss Martin moved away. Pausing, Louisa watched her with sharp eyes, keeping her gaze fixed upon Miss Martin’s dark brown head, so distinct amongst the crowd by way of her plain chignon and dull-colored gown. Her heart leapt in her throat as she saw none other than Lord Williamson emerge from the shadows. She watched in horror as he began to speak to Miss Martin, seeing how Miss Martin gesticulated wildly. What was it that was being said? Why had Miss Martin gone to him? Was it to inform him that he had to stay away from Louisa? Or was there something more?
Louisa’s heart began to pound furiously, her gaze fixed on Miss Martin. Her companion had evidently finished saying what was required, for she shook her head and made to turn away, only for Lord Williamson to reach out and grasp her shoulder.
A gasp escaped from Louisa’s mouth as she watched Miss Martin’s expression change. She turned but did not forcibly remove Lord Williamson’s hand from her shoulder. Instead, she simply looked up at the gentleman, who was now leaning down and speaking in what appeared to be a most urgent manner.
Louisa closed her eyes momentarily, struggling to draw breath. Forcing herself to do so in order to calm her frantic mind, she opened them again to see that Lord Williamson had released Miss Martin, who was now nodding slowly, her head a little lower than before. More than anything, Louisa longed to discover what was being said, wanted to be near them so as not to miss a single word, but yet knew that she could not do so without being seen.
Miss Martin turned away and Louisa watched as Lord Williamson let his gaze rest on Miss Martin’s retreating form, something in his eyes that ripped at her heart. There was a tenderness there, she thought, feeling as though he had kicked at her stomach, hard. A tenderness for Miss Martin, instead of for her.
For a moment, Louisa thought she might faint in a most spectacular fashion upon the floor, only for a gentleman to tap her on the shoulder, greet her, and ask if he might look at her dance card. Louisa, entirely numb, somehow managed to hand him her card and waited for him to sign his name. The gentleman said something else about looking forward to their dance before moving away, leaving Louisa to look back to where Lord Williamson had been.
There was no sign of him. He was gone. He had not come in search of her, had not wanted to come and dance with her as he had promised. Instead, he had sought out Miss Martin and had given her more of his attention than he had ever given to Louisa.
Her heart tore violently, making her gasp. The pain was real and tormenting, burning through her chest with such agony that she could not catch her breath. Lord Williamson was not the gentleman she thought him to be. Secrecy surrounded him. Perhaps she merely had been his plaything, someone he had used simply to flatter his own self-confidence whilst he had gone about doing whatever he pleased.
“Miss Smallwood, where have you been?”
The sharp voice of Miss Martin met her ears, making Louisa flinch.
“I have been looking all over for you.”
“Is that so?” Louisa turned to her companion, her voice low and lacking intonation, such was the dullness that began to creep into her soul. “You were not speaking to Lord Williamson? You did not leave my side when I asked to know the truth of what you had said of him and Miss McBride?” Knowing her tone was accusatory but finding that she did not care, Louisa pointed one long finger at Miss Martin. “You keep the truth from me for whatever purpose you have, Miss Martin, and I have determined to discover it. But,” she continued, her anger beginning to burn hot within her, chasing the dullness from her soul, “I do not think that our acquaint
ance shall continue.”
The color left Miss Martin’s face all at once, her cheeks fading to paper white. “What do you mean?” she breathed, one hand against her heart.
“You may have been successful with your other charges, but you have failed me entirely,” Louisa replied firmly. “You have tried to pull me from Lord Williamson by mistruths and lies, and now I see you going to him and speaking to him in a most intimate fashion!” Her voice was growing louder now but she could not prevent it from being so. “Is it because you care for him, that you do not want me to go near to him? Is that why you have been so determined to pull me from him?”
“No, Miss Smallwood,” Miss Martin protested weakly, her eyes rounding. “No, it is not that, it is—”
“Tomorrow, I shall speak to my father and insist that your employment is brought to an end, and I doubt very much that you shall have an excellent reference,” Louisa finished, aware that this might very well mean the end of her own Season but feeling as though that might be, in its own way, a blessed relief. “For the moment, I am fatigued and wish to return home. Do accompany me, Miss Martin, if you can bear to drag yourself away from Lord Williamson.”
She stalked past her companion, tears burning in her eyes, but her head held high. Knowing that she had spoken callously, Louisa let her pain burn itself all through her, accepting it for what it was and yet hating it at the same time. She did not know what Miss Martin had been speaking of to Lord Williamson and yet found that she no longer cared. There was too much confusion, too much doubt and pain when it came to that particular gentleman. No matter how much she felt, no matter how much affection there was for Lord Williamson within her heart, she did not have the strength to keep going, to keep seeking the truth. It was too hard. She was weary now, feeling as though the path to what could have been a wonderful happiness with Lord Williamson was now broken up before her feet.
Her time here in London was drawing to a close. Lord Williamson could mean nothing to her now. She was nothing but a pawn in his convoluted game and Louisa could not bring herself to continue playing. It was, she decided, quite at an end now.
