Charles could see the table, too. And the strange thing was that he saw Louisa sitting at its head.
But before he could ponder this, Louisa chattered on. “I shall have to ask Mrs. Spadger about it tomorrow and get her to tell me how to use the leaf. I would have asked the singers, but I was afraid to frighten them."
“You were marvellous with them, Louisa. With such tact, you have the makings of a good political hostess."
Louisa grimaced. “I suppose by that you mean that I am an accomplished liar."
Charles was taken aback. “Not at all. It is a useful talent to prevaricate in harmless ways to make others feel at ease. I thought you handled them magnificently."
A warm glow spread over her countenance. “Why, thank you, Charles. And I will add that you were quite generous, too."
He felt himself redden and shifted from one foot to the other. “Oh, that. It was nothing. You must know how insignificant that was to me."
“Yes, I daresay it was,” Louisa said, moving back to the table. He followed her and held her chair for her. “But it shows a willingness to give, and I am certain you must find many worthy things to do with your wealth."
On the way to his own chair, Charles halted guiltily as he realized how completely she was mistaken. He searched his mind frantically for an instance of his own charity and, aside from the vicar's needs at Wroxton, came up short. Of course, he was terribly busy, but the truth was he took his own wealth so much for granted that he seldom thought of sharing it. If he ever felt compelled to do so, more often than not he forgot the impulse before he acted upon it.
Taking his chair and avoiding her eyes, he resolved to do better in future, and for the rest of the evening, steered the conversation back to safer ground.
Chapter Six
In the morning, Charles tried to take a brisk approach to their departure, but he found that Louisa, though up, was far from ready.
“I'm afraid the packing is taking longer than I expected,” she explained at breakfast. “I want to take good care of Miss Conisbrough's gowns, but without my maid it is rather difficult. To do them justice, I should pack them myself, but if you wish, I shall ask Mrs. Spadger to help."
“Please do so,” Charles said. “If I had thought of it, we could have asked her to pack them yesterday. I don't think keeping the Sabbath would have prevented her from assisting her guests. If you had only mentioned this before, we could have been off by now. We have two long days of travel still ahead of us."
Louisa responded calmly, “I shall not keep you much longer. Why don't you fetch Miss Wadsdale and then come back for me. I am certain to be ready by then."
Charles looked at her with a warning in his eyes. “The last time I left, I came back and found myself saddled with a dog. I hope this time I shall not find any surprises when I return."
“Now, Charles…” Louisa had a way of addressing him as if he were an unreasonable child. “One would think you were not happy to have Eliza! And, yet, just look at you."
Charles started, realizing that he had automatically cut a piece of his breakfast ham and handed it down to the dog. And what was worse, Louisa did not know that the dog still slept on his coverlet.
“That is neither here nor there, Louisa,” he retorted. “One small dog of this calibre I can stand. But I will not travel with a coachload of smelly curs, half of them without a brain in their heads! Besides, how do we know Miss Wadsdale will tolerate a dog?"
This thought had been bothering him. If Lady Conisbrough's companion did complain about the dog, he might face a delicate situation. Not that Eliza could be abandoned now, that would not be fair. Charles was inclined, if she objected, to make the suggestion that she ride on the box with the coachman, instead, and see how quickly she came about.
But Louisa seemed unconcerned. “I am certain your friend Ned would not foist anyone so disagreeable upon us.” She put down her napkin and stood.
“Now, if you will excuse me, I shall go up and resume packing. Do you wish me to keep Eliza for you?"
Charles knew he ought to leave the dog, but he answered perversely, “No, I shall take her with me to get her used to the carriage. If the motion makes her ill, I'd as lief find out about it now as later. Besides-” he smiled “-she will make you sneeze."
Louisa pouted delightfully. Then she laughed, and he felt a peculiar flipping sensation inside.
It occurred to him that he no longer minded Louisa's shade of hair. He could not imagine her with any other. Besides, she showed no signs of having the fearsome temper that was thought to go with it. By and large, she had a sunny disposition.
Of course, she could be obstinate, but…
She left him to do her packing, and he set out for Ned's, contemplating the more pleasing aspects of her character.
Later on, her packing done, Louisa sat in the parlour, dressed in her own travelling gown, the one she had been wearing when Charles first found her. She had slipped on her spencer, as well.
It had not occurred to Charles, she knew, that Miss Wadsdale might recognize Miss Conisbrough's clothing and ask impertinent questions. But it had occurred to Louisa. She was determined to conceal that lady's garments from her chaperone and return them to Lord Conisbrough's residence in London as soon as possible.
And she was equally determined to do nothing to undermine Charles's new confidence in her.
To that end, she sat without even gazing out the window so that no repeat of that previous episode could occur. And when the commotion started in the kitchen, she tried her best to ignore it. But then Mrs. Spadger uttered several shrieks of outrage that ended in sobs, and Sammy's voice, raised in accusation, floated to her from down the hall. And she could not, in good conscience, fail to investigate the cause.
The scene in the kitchen was one that would have alarmed all but the most dauntless of young ladies. First Louisa spied Nan Spadger, who appeared to have been struck with a fit of madness. Her apron held up to her face, she was rocking back and forth on her heels and moaning about some pudding which had been destroyed.
In the centre of the room, Sammy Spadger struggled with a ragged boy who, Louisa deduced, had been caught in the act of theft. Yet the boy, with arms and legs flailing, was still trying to get the pudding into his mouth. Bits of it flew about the room as he wriggled and squirmed. Sammy had him by the collar and was reaching for the pudding, but his attempts to recapture what remained of it only resulted in a greater mess.
Jim stood posted at the door, apparently to keep another man from leaving. The stranger, some low tradesman by the look of him, was protesting loudly. As Louisa entered the room, Jim raised his fists and stuck out his chin in bravado.
Louisa walked into the thick of the fray.
“What is happening here? May I do anything to help?"
Sammy turned to her, and the boy managed in that second to wolf down the remaining pudding.
“It's t’ lad, here, miss. He's taken t’ missus's pudding, an’ he won't give it back."
Louisa replied calmly, “In its present state, I doubt that you would wish to have it back.” She looked down at the boy who was chewing miserably. “Why don't you release him, Mr. Spadger, and let us hear his explanation. I daresay the poor boy was starving."
When Sammy seemed reluctant to do so, she added, “With Jim at the door, I am quite certain he could not escape."
That reminder served to calm Sammy, though she could tell he was still upset that a theft had been committed in his house. Reluctantly, he let go of the boy, who cowered near the table.
Louisa stooped to bring her face closer to his. He stepped back in alarm, and she smiled at him.
“You mustn't think that anyone is going to hurt you, child. What is your name?"