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Chapter 7
“Wake up, Louisa. Up, up!”Mama’s voice roused Louisa from a blessed sleep devoid of dreams—and betrothals.
Louisa pulled the blankets over her head.
“The Duchess of Atherton is calling today, and I expect you to join me in entertaining her. You’ve hidden yourself away since Sunday.”
“It’s only Tuesday.”
“That’s not the point. Tibbetts, keep her awake and get her dressed for the day, and send for tea and toast.”
“Yes, milady.”
“One half hour, Louisa, and you had better be downstairs with me.”
Louisa peeked her head out from beneath the blankets to see Mama marching toward the door. “I’d really prefer not to, if you don’t mind, Mama. I don’t feel well at all.”
Mama stopped and turned. “Tibbetts, please leave us.”
“Yes, milady.” Once Tibbetts was gone, Mama sat on the edge of the bed and drew the blankets completely away from Louisa’s face.
“Are you ill?” She laid a hand across Louisa’s forehead. “No fever, at least,” she said. “Shall I call for the doctor? Oh, I wish Mrs. Shaw were here instead of at Ashworth Park. I’m sure she could produce an herbal remedy to help you feel better.”
“I’m not ill, really, but . . . Mama, did you always love Papa?” Louisa asked.
Mama closed her eyes and heaved a sigh. “Ah, I see. I should have known, shouldn’t I? You seemed so sure of your decision and have handled yourself so admirably, I didn’t allow myself to think that perhaps you were merely putting on a brave face. Perhaps I didn’t want to see anything else.” She stroked Louisa’s hair away from her forehead, and Louisa wished she were a young girl again when Mama did such things frequently, as if brushing away all the childhood cares of the day. She turned her cheek to rest against Mama’s palm and closed her eyes. “Did you love Papa back then?” she asked again in a low voice.
“I had a certain regard for him,” she replied, “and that grew into an affection and then into love.”
“Did he love you?”
“Oh, Louisa, such questions! It was years ago.”
“I know nothing about him, Mama.” She meant Viscount Farleigh, not Papa, but Mama would know that.
Mama said nothing, just continued to stroke Louisa’s forehead. “Marriage is a fickle thing, Louisa, especially amongst the noble ranks. A couple can think themselves in love and then grow to despise each other—but the opposite is equally as true. But this is a conversation that needs to occur when we have more time. Visiting with the duchess will do you a world of good. She’s excellent company, as you well know.”
She patted Louisa’s shoulder. “Besides, the duke doesn’t refer to her as The General for nothing. She’s more skilled than Lady Putnam at sifting through gossip, and she’s infinitely more discreet. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she has discerned a thing or two about your Lord Farleigh.”
“He’s not my Lord Farleigh,” Louisa grumbled.
“Nevertheless, we shall welcome the Duchess of Atherton, and we shall see if we come away with any knowledge about your betrothed. For—”
“For it is what the daughter of the Marquess and Marchioness of Ashworth would do.”
“Precisely. Ah, here is Tibbetts back again, and if my nose does not deceive me, she brought you chocolate rather than the tea I ordered.”
“Begging your pardon, milady—” Tibbetts began, blushing.
“She knows I prefer chocolate to tea, Mama.”
“Enjoy your chocolate, then.” She rose. “I shall be waiting for you downstairs in a half hour’s time. Make sure she eats, Tibbetts. I want her at her very best when we entertain the duchess.”
And so it was that a half hour later, Louisa was dutifully sitting with Mama and the Duchess of Atherton in the dayroom, Mama’s favorite room. It was a cheerful room, decorated in pale pinks and greens, with cozy upholstered sofas and chairs, the sort of chairs one would wish to curl up in with a book on a rainy day—or any day, for that matter.
“I’m so pleased that dear Louisa is with us today, Eleanor,” the duchess said as Mama rang for tea to be served. “Such news! I can hardly wait for you to share the details.” The Duchess of Atherton had come out with Mama, and they had remained close friends over the years.
“Indeed. Ah, John, there you are. Tea, please.”
