Page 77 of The Gentlewoman Companion

Chapter Eighteen

James found his mother at her writing desk, her chin in her hand as she read over a paper. Overcome with a rush of affection for this mother of his, so resolute and capable, he kissed her cheek.

“Darling boy, what was that for?”

“I almost died just now at the hands of your companion.”

A smile started, but her face turned grave as she observed his countenance. “What did she do?”

“If I was certain she would tell you, I would wait for her to do so, but everyone will be talking about it. You should be prepared.”

“Well, what?” She faced him, her expression tight.

“She raced through Hyde Park and from thence all the way home.”

“Why didn’t you stop her?”

He lifted his palms.

“Yes, of course, there is no stopping her.” She smiled, a wistful glimmer that held a great deal of admiration and affection for Louisa Thorpe. “By the by, she finished Clarissa already. I’ve never seen a person so dedicated to increasing her understanding. When she first arrived, she endured our intellectual discussions with little interest. Now, I feel as if she is teaching me. How busy was the park?”

“We arrived shortly after five, the height of the fashionable hour. She was seen by too many to dismiss the impropriety.”

“Heavens! Just as she began to blossom.”

“Yes, a pity that, but I am concerned for other reasons.” How to express what he hardly understood himself? “When she jumped the fence with Daisy, she seemed prompted by a culmination of emotion, as if the action were some…I don’t know, a way of releasing tension? I suspect her sprint through the park was sparked by a similar motivation. I worry something is wrong that we do not know.”

His mother studied him with a perceptive gaze that made him shift in his seat.

“I told her it would fester if she did not meet it face on,” she said.

“What would fester?”

“I don’t know. She’s met with cruelty at the hand of her father and suffered anxiety due to the strange business between her aunt and Mr. Fletcher. But she discusses those things with me, at least somewhat. Like you, I wonder if there is something more that haunts her.”

“Will you take her back to Lundbrooke?”

His mother started. “No! My salon is in a few days. She will face the consequences of her impropriety, but I will do my best to ease the blow. I will not bend to society the way the sisters have in the case of Miss Cron.”

Earlier that day, she told him that Miss Cron had been sent back to Havenwood, a fact that disturbed him less than it did his mother, for though he understood the unfairness, he did not see that it benefitted Miss Cron to remain where she would be ostracized. “You believe their action unwarranted?”

Her jaw tightened. “I cannot say, as it is not my trouble to endure, but it seems disloyal to dismiss her to preserve their social standing. It is an unpopular opinion that an illegitimate child should not be punished for the sins of her parents, but it is a principle I believe sincerely. No one should suffer society’s condemnation for things outside of her control.” She expressed this opinion emphatically—it was not a judgment she’d come to lightly.

“Your principles do you credit but will not bring Miss Cron into favor, just as your popularity may not be enough to save Miss Thorpe from ridicule or disdain.”

“If Louisa insists on rash behavior, she must learn to stand still until the gossips find another target.”

It seemed to him that his mother’s age, experience, and strength of mind provided her with a fortress against criticism that Louisa did not possess. Louisa had demonstrated kindness after Miss Trelawney had spoken ill of her, indicating a strength of character that was not easily offended. And his mother was not wrong: Louisa was becoming more confident. But he was concerned that her assurance might be irreparably undermined if she became the focus of contempt.

He would speak to her—or attempt to do so. She wore a shell that was easily cracked but impossible to breach. With careful handling, perhaps she would confide in him at last. Or if she did not unburden herself, she might at least allow him to aid her in some way.

“By the by…” His mother interrupted his thoughts. She hesitated, then pressed forward. “I suspect Margaret and Samuel are not Mr. Kent’s relations.”

His heart dropped.

She slid onto the cushion next to him and took his free hand. “I have long considered it probable that your father had other children.” When he did not respond, she said, “They are his children?”

“Yes.” He choked on the word. “But there is something horrible in discussing it with you.”