Page 45 of The Gentlewoman Author

No, she wouldn’t. She would never willingly permit him into her sight again.

The innkeeper continued arguing with Tobias. So long as they did not allow him to break the door, Louisa might be able to wait it out. She pulled a dingy coverlet around her. Covering her ears with a yellowed pillow, she hummed to herself for what felt like hours. Eventually, the storm passed in a patter of receding footsteps.

There was a space the width of a thick book between the door and the floor, and a shadow waited there. With the lightness of a cat, she got out of bed to see what it was. She stopped in her tracks. A lock of hair, Tobias’s hair, stuck under the door. He lay on the floor outside the room.

Because she was on the fourth floor, escape through the window was not possible. And she could not abandon Nellie. There were also her trunks to consider, and she had some very fine new dresses that could never be left behind.

The only thing she could do was wait. Even if she starved or died of thirst, she would not open the door until Tobias Savage left the inn. Hopefully, Nellie would have the sense to stay out of his way.

The next morning, Louisa woke to his jeering. “Wake up, wench. My hands are aching to get hold of you. You’re a gilflirt, but I’ll take you.” He snickered from under the door, and it sounded as though he was still deep in his cups. “Open the door, love. I’ve a gift for you.”

He whispered profanities, calling Louisa names she understood only by the vile tone in which they were spoken. She covered her ears and watched the latch, as if her stare would keep it from failing.

After some time, the shadow disappeared. He was gone, probably to breakfast. Louisa’s stomach growled, despite feeling sick at the situation she had put herself in. She moaned into her pillow, too shaken to give way to tears.

“Are you all right, miss?”

It was the voice from the night before. The innkeeper’s wife. A plate of food appeared beneath the door.

“I can try to get the gentleman to leave, but I don’t know that he will heed.”

Louisa’s heart soared. “Yes, please. I will be forever in your debt. What is your name?”

“They call me Polly, the innkeeper’s wife.” Louisa had seen her yesterday, a young woman, stout and strong.

“My maid is upstairs. Nellie. Please tell her to stay away from my door and from Mr. Savage, for I fear he will hurt her.”

“I will tell her. As for you, do not come out. Your man is just downstairs. I will tell you when it is safe.”

Over the course of the day, Tobias returned from time to time to shout and pound on the door, a habit that seemed to give permission to the other occupants of the inn who kicked at her door or cursed as they passed. Louisa remained quiet.

After a two-day verbal barrage from Tobias, she was as ragged and dilapidated as the inn. He left for long periods but returned to whisper luridly through the door. She went to a basin and rubbed her face with the small amount of water Polly was able to slip to her. In a distorted mirror above the basin, her shoulders appeared tight, her nose red, her hair bedraggled. She clenched her hands until her fingernails bit into her palms. Her muscles quivered at being held hostage, at the abusive language he murmured so casually. She thought he would have given up, but she remained imprisoned, a just punishment for what she’d done.

Tobias’s lips and chin were visible under the door. She glanced at the large porcelain bowl that peeked from beneath the bed. Did she dare? His mouth moved, time slowing as his glistening lips formed various abuses, whispering and bellowing in a cadence not unlike a dramatic soliloquy. She stomped to her bedside, lifted the heavy vessel from the floor, tiptoed as close to the door as she dared. She aimed and with one great thrust, emptied the contents of her chamber pot. It hit true.

She heard Tobias spring to his feet. He sputtered and spit, shrieking obscenities.

“You deserve worse, you badger.” She could do better than that. “You empty-headed, manipulating bully.” She wailed over her foolishness, called out for her mother, and cursed with some of the new vocabulary she’d learned. Though he did not remain for her tirade, she ranted, tears gushing as she thundered at him.

The last of the day’s light slipped away, leaving Louisa in the hot, malodorous darkness of her room. She leaned forward, pulling the itchy wool coverlet from the bed. With knees to her chest, she shivered into the blanket, her ears and eyes open, waiting for Tobias to return with the magistrate or an ax. Considering the vile words that had spewed from his lips, she feared what he might do should he get hold of her person.

Louisa wasn’t sure if she’d fallen asleep, but it was still dark when Polly’s came through the door. “I believe you are rid of him, miss.” There was caution in her voice. “I brought a brush and soap to clean up the filth.”

“I am sorry for the mess. But I dare not open the door.” Her voice was shredded and weak.

Polly pushed soap, wet cloths, and a scrub brush under the door.

Three days passed before Louisa risked unbolting the door, and only after a great deal of begging from Nellie. When she finally opened to Polly and Nellie, she rushing them into her room before bolting the door again.

“Oh, Miss Louisa, your eyes are red. You are so pale,” Nellie said.

Louisa touched her face. She no longer cared how she looked. She knew what agony was, and it had nothing to do with her appearance. Home. She wanted the comfort of her bed and the village where she’d grown up. She craved salt air and strong sea winds.

But she could never return home. The shame that awaited her there was unbearable and would lead her to accept whatever her father decided for her.

Vice is as contagious as the plague. It is malicious and infectious.

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