“I shall be happy to converse with you, Cousin, but if you please, I think I should like to change my garments directly. I fear a chill."
And, indeed, Charles saw at once that Louisa's arms were covered in goose-flesh. His gaze roved up her sleeve, at which point the goose bumps vanished to reappear quite decidedly through the bodice of her gown.
“Certainly,” Charles said with difficulty. “You have my permission, but I beg you not to tarry. We had a journey to accomplish today, if you recollect."
Louisa coloured at this reminder of her promise to behave. Then she curtsied and hurried from the room.
Charles strode to the parlour, calling to Nan Spadger over his shoulder that he would like something strong to drink.
Louisa changed her gown and repaired her hair as quickly as she could, though unfortunately this took a great while, since all her clothes had been packed and brought downstairs. With Sammy on his errand, Nan busy fetching Charles a drink, and Jim occupied with Bob, it was quite some time before anyone thought to take them up to her. In the meantime, Charles endeavoured to bring his temper under control and his more wayward thoughts to heel, so that by the time Louisa joined him, he could listen to her with some degree of calm.
With prompting, she related to him the events of the morning. In those matters regarding the carter and the boy's starvation, he could not fault her for her courage or her principles.
“And so,” he said, when she had finished, “you intend for this Bob to ride back to London with us. And what then, pray?"
Louisa smiled uncertainly at him. “I had hoped you might engage him in some capacity in one of your households.” And before he could protest, she added, “I would do it myself, Charles, but the general would never allow it. He is inclined to characterize all my charitable actions as foolish starts, and though I can often win him over to smaller things, I am certain this particular notion would not fly."
Charles buried his face in his hands and groaned. Then, unable to help himself, he chuckled and looked up at her. “Louisa… if we were to prolong our journey a few more days, I daresay you would saddle me with enough unfortunate creatures to fill an orphanage! Is life with you always like this?"
“Like what, Charles?"
Seeing her bemused gaze, he groaned again and sobered. “Louisa-” he took her hands in his “-dearest Louisa. Has no one ever told you that you cannot cure all the world's ills?"
There was a pause. Then she answered him quietly, “No, of course I cannot do it alone, Charles… dear Charles… but I can try."
For one moment, Charles thought she must have been teasing him. Then he looked into her eyes and saw her deep sincerity, a firm conviction that she should indeed try to resolve the miseries of others.
Such commitment took his breath away. Louisa's tone, gentle as it had been, had conveyed a reproach-not for his own lack of charity, but for doubting the extent of hers.
Impressed, and deeply touched, nevertheless Charles felt a twinge of pity for the man who would one day take such a lady on as his wife. His life would never be his own, never peaceful. Louisa would force him to take in every stray or waif within sight. His house would turn into an asylum for orphans and pets, if not for unwed mothers and the indigent…
There would be compensations, of course. As he gazed on her face, still unable to find a response to her comment, he let himself wander in those blue eyes that promised such passion… until a responsive thrill warned him away.
He straightened in his chair and released her hands. “Well then, we must see what can be done for this Bob of yours, but I hope the solution will lie somewhere other than in one of my own households. Perhaps the Spadgers will be able to help."
Charles went to the door and called for Sammy, whom he had heard returning a few minutes earlier. Charles had no plan of his own other than to see whether some tradesman in town might be willing to accept the boy as a new apprentice. He decided it would be easier, and far more pleasant, to pay for the boy's apprenticeship than to take him with them to London.
But when asked, Sammy said he could think of no one likely to take the boy on. Charles explained his wishes, and the innkeeper agreed to send Jim to enquire in the village. There seemed nothing left to do but wait for the results, and since it was past noon already, Charles ordered up a luncheon for Louisa and himself.
Over their meal, Louisa entertained him with her views on apprenticeships, child labour and orphanages, and her intentions of reforming them all.
Considering she had cost him one day of travel, not to mention whatever expense he would bear for Bob, Charles thought he bore this with considerable good humour.
Chapter Seven
It was past two before Jim returned with bad news. None of the tradesmen in the village had need of a new apprentice, even one who would be fed and clothed at Charles's expense.
Disheartened, but knowing that his duty to return Louisa to her guardian as quickly as possible had to come before any other consideration, Charles resigned himself to guardianship of the boy. He told the Spadgers to bring Bob into the parlour. Bob was brought forth and told what delights were in store for him.
The more Louisa described these-a ride in the carriage, a place in one of his lordship's grand houses-the bigger the boy's eyes got, until his lips began to tremble and his nose started to drip.
“Why can't I stay ‘ere?” he asked in a pitiful tone.
Jim, looking equally sad, knelt down by the boy and tried to explain. But Nan, also moved by the boy's tears, exchanged a pleading look with her husband.
Sammy's eyes moved from his son to the boy and back again.
A look of understanding passed between father and mother.
“Pardon, yor lordship-” Nan came forward and curtsied. “But seeing as our Jim has taken a liking to t’ lad, if yor lordship don't mind…"
She paused, uncertain, so Sammy finished for her, “What t’ missus is trying ta say, yor lordship, is that t’ missus and I ‘ud be willing ta take t’ lad on-so long as yor lordship does what tha’ promised about his keep."
Charles looked from one to the other, then at Jim, whose face had taken on a big smile. He breathed a sigh of relief. “I cannot think of a better solution. Louisa?"
He saw that she was already beaming. She clasped her hands in front of her and said, “Oh, what good people you are! I know Bob will be happy with you. Did you hear that, Bob? The Spadgers said you may live with them!"
The boy was so overcome that he could do nothing but bury his face in Jim's shoulder. The Spadgers laughed and ushered both boys from the room.
“That was very fortunate,” Charles said later as he dined with Louisa. Eliza snored under the table at their feet.
Dark had fallen, and Charles had given up on their journey for the day. He would have liked to see some sign of contrition on Louisa's face for causing the delay, but knew that any such hope was doomed to disappointment.
From across the table, she regarded him with an air of total complacency and said, “It just goes to show you, Charles, the good you can do when you put your mind to it."
Charles lowered his knife to avoid stabbing her with it. “In case you have forgotten, my first duty is to return you to your guardian-and without being hanged for it! I'm afraid by now, after this much time, General Davenport will have good cause to question my conduct. We shall leave tomorrow, with or without Miss Wadsdale, but I'm afraid we have greater need for her now than ever before. I cringe to think what the general would make of it if we appeared on his doorstep with no chaperone!"
Louisa shook her head blithely. “Do not give the general another thought, Charles. I am certain I shall not! You may simply tell him the snows were too thick for travel. That should pacify him.