Dinner was a feast. Nearly as sumptuous as he would have got at Wroxton Hall, though much more intimate. He and Louisa alone shared the goose, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, the Christmas pudding and mincemeat in pastry coffins. They no sooner finished with one delight than Sammy brought them another, until they could hold no more. There seemed nothing to do after that but sit by the fire, fold their hands over their stomachs and groan about how much they had eaten.
Louisa's groaning, unladylike though it was, tickled Charles's funny-bone and made him want to tease her. He questioned her again about her wish, and when she was not forthcoming said, “I know what you wished for-to be married soon.'
“Not necessarily,” she said. “I may have decided not ever to be married. You don't know.'
He was strangely disappointed. And surprised.
“But I thought you wished to be married above all things.'
Louisa's chin was in the air. “Perhaps-but I shall not tell you. I might have wished for something quite different entirely. I might have wished, for instance, for a life sufficiently long to see all my projects brought to fruition!'
“That would be impossible,” Charles told her, grinning. “You would no sooner finish one than think of another, so you could never reach the end.'
She smiled wistfully. “True. But are they so terrible?'
He stared back at her, and felt warmth invading his outstretched limbs. “No. Not so terrible at all.'
The evening passed, and they stayed together in the parlour, talking in this languid fashion. Charles felt drugged by the heavy meal, the Spadgers’ brandy and the heat from the fire. He sensed a tingling in his limbs that would not go away-not while they sat like this together. A movement from Louisa, a smile or a pout, and the tingle surged to a pulse and the pulse to a throb.
Only the languor brought on by Sammy's brandy kept him firmly in his chair, and for this reason, he indulged himself far more than usual. When the time came for Louisa to withdraw, he struggled to his feet, made her a careful bow and subsided into his chair once again.
He hardly knew whether he had touched her hand to his lips, as he had intended, or whether the taste of her still lingered from their kiss.
Chapter Nine
The day they were finally to set out for London saw a return of Charles's ill humour. The brandy he had imbibed contributed to his irritability, and not even the Spadgers’ offer of meals free of charge on the day after Christmas, according to their Yorkshire custom, could lift the clouds from his head.
Louisa was the one who saw to it that all their boxes and bags were packed before breakfast and that the horses were set to the carriage before dawn. Having expended very little effort himself, Charles found that they were soon on their way, with Eliza curled up on the seat beside him.
Nan, Sammy and Jim turned out in the yard to wish them a safe and speedy journey, and even Bob was persuaded to overcome his fear of the horses to wave them farewell. The carriage window framed them all as Timothy whipped the horses out of the yard.
As soon as their faces vanished, Charles felt a curious melancholy steal upon him. For the sake of Louisa's entertainment, he tried his best to conceal it, but this morning he discovered a certain constraint between them, whether because of the events of the previous days or the ordeal to come, he did not know.
Louisa confined her rather slight conversation to the weather and the sights they passed along the road. Charles had feared that she might try to take up other strays along their way, but instead, she hardly seemed to notice them. Finally, he concluded that she must be dreading the confrontation with her guardian and did his best to divert her thoughts from what lay ahead.
That night, they stopped in another inn. Fearing their proximity to London would increase the likelihood of their being recognized, Louisa suggested that they eat alone in their separate rooms. Charles concurred, though he realized how much he had looked forward to their last dinner together, hoping for a resumption of their easy discourse.
But it was not to be. Their adventure was nearly over. Time for Charles to think of getting back to the Regent's demands on his time. Unintentional though the delay had been, he had dallied long enough.
The next morning found them both in a subdued humour. The closer they got to London, the quieter Louisa became. As they reached the outskirts of the city, evening fell, and with it the last of her conversation.
It was dark outside, and dark all around them; but occasionally the light from a passing lantern cast its beam between them, lighting their faces for a moment. Each beam captured the highlights of Louisa's hair, leaving it burning in Charles's imagination like the glow from live coals. In spite of the chill outside, it was impossible to feel cold when Louisa sat across from him. Her presence warmed him better than a hearth.
As they drew toward her uncle's house, Charles could stand no more of her reserve. He reached across the space between them and took her cold hands in his.
“You are frightened of the general?'
“No,” she said, “not at all.” Gently she withdrew her hands, surprising him. Louisa had never repulsed him before. Hurt, he was unsure how to interpret her reluctance.
“I can face the general readily enough,” she said with no sign of fear. Charles was relieved to see that she was not entirely cast down, after all. “It is the thought of his plans for me that makes me contemplative.'
Charles ventured in a lighter tone, “Marriage or seclusion?'
“Precisely. He will either forbid me to leave the house or marry me to someone out of hand.'
“You will not let him, I hope.” Charles frowned until he heard her chuckle.
“You know me far too well to believe that I would!” He started to relax, to release the breath he had caught and held for some reason. Then she said, “I've a mind to tell him that I shall not marry at all.'
He was taken aback. “Not marry? But why?'
By the light of a passing lantern, he saw her shrug. “I shall come in possession of my fortune at the age of twenty-five whether I marry or not. It is a long time to wait, but when I think of the things I could do with my fortune if I had no husband to hamper me, it does not seem so long.'
“What things?” Charles's mind was in confusion. For a young lady who not long ago had been so passionately- even improperly-determined on marriage, she certainly seemed indifferent to it now.
For one mad moment, he was sure it was his own kiss that had put her off. Clearly, before it, she had experienced no other male advances. He had deceived himself that she'd enjoyed it. What else could it be?
“My
“Your projects… Oh! Of course!” Her discharged soldiers and orphans and stray dogs… and now her prisoners, too. Suddenly Charles understood.
“Is that why you wished to marry? So you could begin your charitable work?'
“Why, of course. Why else? What have you been thinking?'
Charles felt blood rushing to his face. He couldn't possibly tell her that he had believed that she, an innocent girl, had been eager for sensual fulfilment.
He stammered, “Some… foolish nonsense. My fault entirely. Not important at all.'
“Sometimes you think my causes are foolish nonsense.'
Charles paused before answering. With this new puzzle piece to her character, everything she had said before must be re-examined. How could he brand as foolish all her generosity? Look at the good she had done in just three days: Bob was happily lodged with the Spadgers; Eliza had found a new master; and he had been persuaded to introduce her measures to the Lords.
“No,” he said, reaching out a hand to stroke Eliza. He would rather be stroking Louisa's hand, but she had withdrawn from him already and he did not dare. “I don't think they are foolish. I did once, but that has changed.'
