Page 25 of The Gentlewoman Author

“Yes, he died two years ago.”

He understood. His experience paralleled her own. “I recently lost my mother, and now I am nothing but a burden to my father. He wants to dispose of me.”

Mr. Savage’s eyes, which had seemed cold only moments before, were full of sympathy. “I am sorry to hear that.”

“As am I. We are not so different, are we?”

“It seems not.”

Their eyes locked in understanding.

From across the room, Mr. Fletcher stood, and Mr. Savage followed. The visit ended, but Louisa’s exchange with Mr. Savage lightened her heart. She was not alone. If nothing else, one person understood. It wasn’t much, but it stitched together a tiny bit of the wound that grew within her since her mother became ill. This new friendship felt important.

Her mother’s affliction had been of some duration. The pain of watching her mother grow less capable of performing the requisite tasks of daily life left Louisa ragged. By the end, she had been her mother’s nurse and maid in every way.

“Darling, will you put my hair up? I want to dine with the family today.”This and other requests had made up the final year of her mother’s life. She asked Louisa to care for her appearance as well as administer medicines and remind her to eat. So, Louisa learned how. At the time, she wondered why her mother did not engage the maid or the doctor. Now, the memories were precious. While Louisa pulled a brush through her mother’s hair or tightened her stays, they chattered and gossiped, and Louisa had received all the motherly advice she would miss in the years to come. It was the greatest gift her mother had left her.

Despite all those wise words, Louisa found herself in her current predicament, pressured to form an attachment with someone for whom she had no feelings. Since Mr. Lawrence was not in Bath, she could not chance upon him in town to remind him of her existence or hint at the expectation of a proposal.

Louisa watched out the window as Mr. Savage mounted the landau. His lithe figure looked well inside the carriage. A small smile tickled the edge of her mouth. She’d gained a true friend that day.

A clamorous woman is looked upon, not with reverence, but with much dread.

The Whole Duty of a Woman, An Infallible Guide to the Fairer Sex, 1737