Page 8 of The Gentlewoman Author

Hah! She had him. But just to be certain, “And you will accept a different arrangement should she fall in love while in Bath?”

Stephen rubbed his eyes. “Yes. Of course. Her mother would prefer it your way, though I doubt your little venture will come to anything. Thank you, Sister.” Stephen drooped with every word. Grief took its toll, and Mary guessed her brother’s fatigue caused him to care less than he should about his daughter’s future. She went to him and kissed his forehead in an unusual gesture of affection. She placed her hand on his shoulder and bid him goodbye, remembering how she’d missed physical touch after her husband’s death. She missed it still.

Mary stepped across the hall to find Louisa reading in the morning room. She explained her plan with genuine enthusiasm, but her niece’s visage faded with each zealous word uttered.

“Bath? Why? Is this a punishment? Am I to be banished?” Louisa crossed her arms like a defiant child. They sat in the window seat, where the sun pushed afternoon warmth onto their backs.

“Darling, of course not.” Used to Louisa’s dramatic temperament, Mary said, “I only wish to see you dancing at the assembly rooms, meeting new people, perhaps finding love.”

“Love?” Louisa sniffed and slammed a fist on a small side table, upsetting a candelabra.

“You are angry at your father for trying to force an engagement. Of course you are. But in Bath you may find a suitable man before your father saddles you with a stranger. You want a man of your own choosing, do you not?”

Louisa’s lip trembled. “I would like a man of my own choosing.” With that, she marched across the room and threw herself into an overstuffed chair. She had lost her mother and now faced the possibility of marriage to an unknown man. It was little wonder the girl was out of countenance and required a moment to compose herself. Louisa wanted her mother, a kind, shy woman, whom Mary had liked but never known well. A spectrum of emotion passed over the girl. She changed position in her chair, flopping this way and that, as if comfort were not to be found. She pursed her lips, knit her brow, set her jaw, and finally looked up at Mary.

“When can we leave? I am ready this moment.” Louisa stood as if they could jump into a carriage and depart immediately.

“What about your clothes? And I need to arrange for lodgings. Preparations by the servants…” Mary’s voice trailed as Louisa’s face fell.

“All of that will take weeks. We will never be off.”

If it weren’t for Louisa’s trying circumstances, Mary would have chided her ingratitude, but considering the situation, she kept her voice soft. “Perhaps we can stay at an inn for a few days while finding a suitable place to stay.”

“I loathe an inn.” Louisa’s lower lip protruded in a pout that rivaled any toddler. Before Mary could think of a way to coax her niece into greater civility, Louisa turned toward her aunt. “I want to leave as soon as may be. We can have gowns made up there, can we not? What about that friend of yours? Mr. Eliot’s mother. Doesn’t she have a townhome in Bath?”

She did. More than that, Mary knew Agnes resided there, at this moment, and would delight in having company. But Mary would rather not stay with her friend. Though she planned to use Agnes to introduce them into Bath society, she preferred Agnes in small quantities. Living with Agnes would be a strain at the very least.

“Yes.” Mary spoke with care. “But wouldn’t you rather have a place to ourselves?”

“Whatever for? Mrs. Eliot is pleasant enough. I am sure she has a grand place, rich as she is.”

If Louisa had not been at school during her cousin Sophia’s courtship, she may not have used the word pleasant to describe Agnes Eliot. Mary loved her friend. Their attachment extended back to their school days, and since then, they shared the joys and hardships of life. But Agnes meddled. When her son Philip had fallen in love with Mary’s niece, Sophia, Agnes tried to separate them, not believing anyone worthy of her son. Philip had chosen Sophia over his mother, and Agnes, bereft at the loss of her son, persuaded Mary to help her reverse the damage to their relationship. Now, as Sophia’s mother-in-law, Agnes strove for congeniality, and that amiability formed Louisa’s opinion of the woman. If they stayed with her in Bath, everything Mary envisioned for the trip would change. She looked forward to planning and arranging and did not want Agnes to take over, for she certainly would.

Louisa sniffled, drawing Mary’s attention. The girl’s eyes were red-rimmed, and her face was blotched. The poor child. “I will send an express to Bath, asking Mrs. Eliot if we may stay with her.”

Louisa sprang to her feet and kissed her aunt. “Oh, Aunt. Thank you. Leaving home is just what I need. I’ll begin packing now. When may we depart?”

Agnes liked to appear on one’s doorstep without an invitation and on short notice. Since that was the case, Mary would inform her friend of their impending arrival and leave as soon as possible. “I think we can go in three days, if we are very quick in arranging our affairs.”

“I will be ready in two.” Louisa flew toward the door.

“Oh, Louisa. What did you and that young man speak of earlier? I saw you in the garden when I arrived. Mr. Lawrence, was it?”

Louisa froze. Without turning around, she said, “Nothing at all. He merely stopped by on his way to town to give me news of his sister. She is ill.”

“I hope she is recovered. You seemed upset.” But Louisa disappeared before the sentence concluded. Yes, Bath suited them very well. The companionship of superior men would draw Louisa’s thoughts from John Lawrence.

Mary said her goodbyes to Stephen and departed for home. Her heart lightened with hope, despite the tug in her chest that yearned for the same excitement Louisa was about to experience. To be young and falling in love! Mary’s pleasure would be found in observing it all and encouraging where needed.

Remember, it is far safer for a woman to appear too proud than too familiar.

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