Delicately fingering the lace, Louisa thought that the shawl was the loveliest piece of clothing she had ever seen. Not even Aunt Rockingham had anything so fine. Oh, the hours it must have taken Mrs Barker to make it!
Tears filled Louisa’s eyes as she hugged the bony woman for the first time. She wasn’t soft and cuddly, like Mrs Hatch, but she returned the hug.
‘I will take great care of it,’ Louisa promised her. ‘And when I marry I shall wear it around my shoulders. I promise you.’
‘We’d best hurry, my lady,’ said Goodman in his usual gruff voice. ‘Daylight is coming and it would be best for us to be out of sight.’
Swallowing her emotions, Louisa shook hands with him and thanked everyone again, before following Goodman out into the cold and wet dawn. He had already hooked the old gig to a pair of horses. They weren’t the flashy ones that her uncle drove his curricle with, but strong, reliable work horses from the farm. She accepted his hand up into the carriage and sat beside him.
He flicked the reins. ‘Giddy up.’
The Greystone Hall estate’s circumference was over ten miles. Louisa had not been off it in over a decade. Still, she wanted to memorise every detail. Each tree. The paths. The valley. Because she never intended to come back. She planned to have a London season and marry a man she loved, just as her mother had. Even as a child she had known that her parents loved each other. And they had loved her dearly. That knowledge had often been the only thing that had helped Louisa through all her monotonous days stuck at Greystone Hall.
Yawning, Louisa found it harder and harder to keep her eyes open. Her late-night sewing was catching up with her, and the jolts and bumps of the carriage were gentle. She fought to keep her eyelids open, but eventually the struggle was too great.
When Louisa woke up, a few hours later, her neck was sore from sleeping while sitting, and her stomach growled with hunger. She moved her hand to her nape and rubbed it gently.
‘Almost there, my lady,’ Goodman said, pointing to a lonely house further down the road, nestled by a church.
She picked up her small bag from the floor and clutched it to her stomach. What if her uncle refused to help her? What if he sent her back to Aunt Rockingham? Her aunt was shrewd enough to put a watch on her to make sure that she never escaped again. She did not like to be crossed. This was Louisa’s only chance for freedom. She prayed that she hadn’t made a foolish choice.
Goodman stopped the gig on the road, a few dozen yards away from the vicarage in Frome. ‘’Tis best if I leave you here.’
Holding his hand, she stepped out of the carriage. Her knees were shaky. ‘Thank you, Goodman. I appreciate your assistance more than I can say.’
He touched his hat to her and then clicked his tongue. The horses moved forward and she watched him turn the vehicle on the small pike road and return in the same direction he had come. The poor man had a long carriage ride in front of him.
Taking a deep breath, Louisa forced her quaking limbs to walk down the gravel drive. She paused as she reached the house. Should she go to the front door or the back? She wanted her aunt and uncle’s first impression of her to be the best possible. Glancing down, she saw her new blue dress was covered in dust from the drive. Even her lovely new shawl would need to be soaked in vinegar and washed. She hardly looked like the respectable daughter of an earl. She’d best go to the servants’ entrance.
Louisa knocked sharply on the door.
A middle-aged woman with white hair pulled severely back, wearing a white cap and apron, answered it. ‘What can I help you with, miss?’
Louisa jumped, felt her mouth dry. ‘I am here to see the Reverend Laybourne.’
The woman shook her head and harrumphed. ‘He’s not here, miss.’
Lowering her chin, Louisa felt her confidence receding. ‘When will he be back?’
‘Never. He was promoted to Canon of Sherborne and now he and his family live in a fine house there. The new man, Reverend Nance, kept me on as housekeeper. But he ain’t married so it wouldn’t be proper for you to stay.’
Her heart sank in her chest. ‘How far is the town of Sherborne from here?’
The woman scratched her arm. ‘Thirty miles, I’d say.’
Louisa felt dizzy and her limbs tingled with fatigue. She kneaded her chest with the heel of her hand, trying to soothe the pain there. Such a distance was unfathomable, but what choice did she have?
‘Which way?’
The housekeeper stepped out of the vicarage and Louisa trudged behind her. The woman pointed down the path. ‘Just head south through the town and continue down the road. You can’t miss it. But first come in my kitchen for a cup of tea and something to eat, miss. Can’t have you setting off on an empty stomach.’
‘Thank you.’
Louisa was grateful for the meal as she walked and walked until she thought that her feet had more blisters than skin. She feared that by the time she reached her uncle’s house that she would give her relatives a bad first impression. She was dusty, sweaty, and her once tidy hair blown about.
She dimly recalled her Uncle Laybourne from her mother’s funeral. He’d seemed solemn and had not spoken a word to her. His wife had wrapped her thin arms around Louisa and promised to invite her for a visit to meet all her cousins. Louisa had longed to go home with her. But she had not realised how serious her aunt’s perpetual cough was until she’d died not long after, of consumption. Her uncle had remarried, but his new wife had never attempted to make contact with Louisa.
What if they rejected her, like Uncle and Aunt Rockingham?