Secrets Behind Locked Doors

Chapter Three

Robert glanced at the clock and tapped his fingers absent-mindedly on the arm of the chair. His years of service in the army had made him exceedingly punctual; he even turned up to dinner in his own house five minutes early.

Not that there was any rush, he thought, as he sipped from the glass of whisky in his hand. He’d planned for dinner this evening to be a very informal affair with just him and Louisa present. He didn’t want to scare her, and after eating slop from wooden bowls with her fingers for over a year he doubted Louisa would welcome company at her first civilised meal.

He glanced at the clock again, wondering if he should check on Louisa. He’d handed her over to his housekeeper, Mrs Kent, a couple of hours ago. The older woman had clucked over Louisa’s poor state and had whisked her upstairs to fuss over her.

A little bit of fussing would do Louisa some good, Robert thought. She’d been neglected for too long. He wondered if her experiences over the last few years had inflicted any permanent damage. Only someone with a very robust character would escape unscathed from a situation such as hers.

The door slowly swung open as Louisa stepped into the room.

Robert stood immediately, surprised by the difference a bath could make.

‘Good evening, Lord Fleetwood,’ Louisa said.

For a second Robert couldn’t find the right words. She looked completely different to the scrawny little ragamuffin he’d swept from the asylum and into his carriage earlier in the day. Granted she was still all skin and bones, but Mrs Kent had scrubbed Louisa’s skin until it was glowing, then must have turned her attention to Louisa’s hair. In place of the lank locks that had hung down Louisa’s back earlier in the day was a head of shining chestnut hair, secured into an elegant hairstyle.

The only thing that stopped Louisa looking like a young lady of the ton was the shapeless dress she’d had to borrow from Robert’s middle-aged and voluptuous housekeeper. It hung off her like a sack, but at least it was clean and not that awful grey garment she’d spent over a year wearing.

‘You look lovely,’ Robert said.

Louisa scrunched up her nose as if she didn’t believe him.

‘You do.’

And she did. Robert wasn’t in the habit of giving out compliments just for the sake of it.

‘It feels wonderful to be clean,’ Louisa said, fiddling with her hair self-consciously. ‘For the first time in longer than I can remember I smell of roses rather than cabbage.’

‘Shall we go in to dinner?’ Robert asked.

He held out his arm and waited for her to slip her hand into the crook of his elbow. She hesitated before stepping forwards and Robert realised he had a long way to go before Louisa trusted him. She was scared of even the briefest human contact. He’d seen her flinch on a couple of occasions since he’d brought her home, as if she was expecting him to raise a hand to her. Slowly, he cautioned himself, if you’re gentle she’ll start to trust you eventually.

He made sure no part of his body brushed against hers as he escorted her into dinner. He watched her face as he pulled out her chair and waited for her to be seated before sitting down himself. She was wary of every movement, but seemed to relax once he’d sat down.

‘We’ve got a lot to discover about each other,’ Robert said as the footman brought the first course to the table.

Louisa smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. He supposed she was nervous of giving too much of herself away.

‘What you like to eat, for example.’

As she realised Robert wasn’t going to push her for more personal facts quite yet, Louisa relaxed.

‘I used to be rather fussy,’ she said, eyeing the bowl of soup in front of her. ‘My mama would despair at mealtimes.’

‘And now?’

‘Now I don’t think there’s much I wouldn’t eat.’ After a mouthful of soup she added, ‘Except gruel. Serve that and I’m walking out.’

‘I’ll tell cook madam is not a fan of the gruel.’

‘Or porridge,’ Louisa added. ‘I do like this soup, though.’

Robert could tell she was holding back. She wanted to spoon the deliciously warm liquid into her mouth and not bother with any conversation, but even after a year locked away, her upbringing as a well-mannered young woman shone through.

‘What else do we have on the menu?’ Louisa asked, her eyes sparkling in anticipation.

Robert was glad—she needed to put some more flesh on her frame. A few weeks of good cooking and she’d be much healthier and able to face the world again.

He shrugged. ‘I’ve got no idea.’

Louisa frowned. ‘But it’s your house, isn’t it?’

He nodded.

‘Then how can you have no idea what’s for dinner.’

The truth was he had little interest in food. For years in the army he’d got used to eating whatever was available. More often than not it would be a sinewy rabbit or a watered-down stew. After a while he’d stopped noticing how the food tasted and had eaten it for sustenance only.

And since he’d returned from the war...well, nothing was the same, not even the fancy dinners he used to enjoy.

‘I let cook decide.’

Louisa looked at him as though he were mad.

‘Every night you could have anything, anything, you desire, and you let your cook decide.’

‘She does make very good choices,’ Robert said, motioning to the two empty bowls of soup the footman was whisking away.

‘Even so, I’d love to choose exactly what I was going to eat each and every day.’

Robert decided not to reveal he wouldn’t notice if it was a pheasant or a field mouse set down in front of him.

‘At the asylum we had gruel every day,’ Louisa said, surprising Robert with this little snippet of information, ‘and porridge for breakfast.’

Hence her dislike for gruel and porridge, he assumed.

‘And when I lived with my guardian he used to restrict my food if I did even the slightest thing wrong, but the servants often saved me a few scraps and leftovers.’

No wonder she’d devoured the soup as if it were her last meal on earth. Nine years of deprivation would do that to anyone.

‘Would you like to help Mrs Rust plan the meals for the next couple of weeks?’ Robert asked, surprising himself with the question.

For a second Louisa’s eyes lit up with excitement, then she became suspicious.

‘I’d love that,’ she said slowly, ‘if you truly are planning on keeping me around. But I’ll understand if you decide to sell me to that travelling fair. I am quite expensive to feed after all.’

The humour was back, her protective armour against the world.

Robert stopped himself from reaching out and taking her hand. He knew she wasn’t ready for that kind of contact yet. Instead, he leant forwards slightly and looked her in the eye.

‘You’re not going anywhere, Louisa,’ he said. ‘I’m your guardian and I promise you have a home here with me for as long as you want or need it.’

‘The last thing you want is a half-crazy penniless orphan getting in your way.’

This time Robert couldn’t stop himself reaching out to touch her, it was an automatic gesture.

‘You’re not crazy, Louisa,’ he said seriously.

And he believed what he was telling her. All his doubts from the asylum had been quashed a while ago. Louisa wasn’t insane, she was the victim of an awful old man’s plot to steal her inheritance.

‘Sometimes I feel it.’

It was said so quietly Robert barely heard her.

No, she wasn’t insane, Robert thought, but she’d been badly hurt by her experiences and he’d have to remember not to push her too hard.

‘You’re not crazy,’ he repeated, ‘and you need to stop telling yourself that you are.’

The footman chose that moment to bring in the main course. Robert lifted his hand from Louisa’s and sat back, watching as she tried to conceal her emotions.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Robert could tell Louisa was still thinking about his declaration and wondering if she could trust him. He knew the best thing to do was to give her time.

‘How will it work?’ she asked eventually.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You being my guardian, me living here. The whole thing.’

Robert could tell that how he answered her would be very important.

‘I’ve never been a guardian before,’ Robert said, buying himself some time to think. ‘I’m not sure what to do for the best.’

The military man in him perked up and Robert started to formulate a plan.

‘But I guess it all depends on you.’

Louisa leant forwards. He’d at the very least got her to engage.

‘For instance, would you prefer to live in town or the country?’

‘You have a house in the country?’ Louisa asked.

Robert thought of his extensive estate far away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

‘I have a house in the country,’ he confirmed.

She took another bite of beef and chewed whilst she thought.

‘I’ve never lived in London before,’ she said slowly. ‘At least not as a free woman.’

The Lewisham Asylum didn’t count.

‘Would you like to?’

‘I’d like to give it a go.’

‘Then why don’t we plan on spending a few weeks in London. I will have to employ a chaperone for you, a companion.’

Society would be scandalised at the thought of a gently bred young woman spending even a night alone in a house with a bachelor such as he, but Robert knew his servants would be discreet and he had no intention of telling anyone.

Louisa nodded, spearing a piece of carrot with her fork. She lifted it up to her mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully.

‘Tomorrow we’ll visit the modiste and get you some clothes of your own,’ Robert said, looking at Mrs Kent’s sizeable dress.

The last thing he wanted to do was spend his days visiting dress shops and interviewing companions, but he felt as though he owed it to Louisa. If he palmed her off on some female friend, she would probably feel as though he was abandoning her. Not that he had any obliging female friends in any case, or many friends at all for that matter. The last few years he hadn’t exactly been a social butterfly.

No, he’d have to spend a bit of time helping Louisa settle into her new life. Once she was used to living as his ward and had a suitable companion he would be able to back off a little and return to his normal life.

The footman entered one final time, bringing dessert. Robert watched as Louisa’s eyes lit up at the sight of the fruit crumble that was placed in front of her.

‘Do you like fruit crumble?’ he asked.

Louisa nodded and Robert was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

‘It was my mother’s favourite,’ she said.

He didn’t know what to say. Louisa stared for a few long moments at the dish in front of her, then stood abruptly.

‘Please excuse me,’ she said, then fled the room.

Robert was left staring at the door, wondering whether he should go after her.

‘Best leave her for the night,’ Mrs Kent said as she watched Robert pace the hallway. ‘Poor duck has had a hectic day, I’m sure she’ll be happier in the morning.’

Robert glanced up the stairs one final time before retreating to his study. He’d never professed to understand women.

Chapter Four

Louisa dried the tears from her cheeks and tested the door handle for the tenth time. It was strange not to be locked in and every few minutes she wondered if she’d imagined her freedom and just had to test the handle again.

The corridor outside her room was quiet. She’d listened as slowly the household had retired for the night and now she was sure she was the only one still awake. She looked left and right, allowing her eyes time to adjust to the darkness. There was no one there.

With one final glance into the bedroom Louisa stepped out into the corridor. As she crept along in the darkness she allowed her fingers to trail across the plush wallpaper, luxuriating in the expensive textures. Everything in this house was the polar opposite of the asylum, from the wallpaper and plush carpet to the kindness of the inhabitants. For a second Louisa hesitated. Maybe she was being foolish.

She probably was being foolish, but in her mind it was her only option. For a little while, during the delicious dinner Robert Fleetwood had given her, she’d allowed herself to dream. She’d wondered if he had meant everything he’d said: the promise of safety and security, the life of comfort as his ward. On first impressions he seemed a good man, an honest man, but despite all that Louisa knew she couldn’t stay with him.

She’d vowed to herself that if she ever escaped from the asylum she’d never be dependent on another human being again, and most especially not a man. Although in her darkest moments she’d dreamt of a man such as Robert coming to rescue her, Louisa knew fairy tales didn’t exist and she was better off relying only on herself. She had resigned herself to a lonely life, but loneliness was better than betrayal.

Silently she crept down the stairs, pausing every few steps to check no one else was stirring.

Louisa knew the streets of London were cruel and unforgiving to young women with no money or connections, but at least she would be dependent on no one but herself. She couldn’t bear growing close to Lord Fleetwood, starting to enjoy her new privileged lifestyle, only to have it ripped away again. It would be better never to experience it, to not know what that life could be like. Because it would be ripped away. It might be in a week or in a year, but Louisa knew that all good things in life didn’t last. One day, when she was least expecting it, her life would again be turned upside down.

Louisa reached the front door and quietly started to unlock it. Only a couple of minutes and she would disappear into the anonymity of the London streets. As she pulled the door open she wondered if she should leave a note for Lord Fleetwood, an explanation of why she had left, but decided against it. Although he might protest otherwise, Louisa doubted she was little more than an inconvenience to his ordered lifestyle. He’d saved her from the asylum and she didn’t doubt he was a good man, but he’d done it out of a sense of duty, to right the wrongs of his great-uncle. Within a few days she doubted she would even enter his thoughts.

Louisa wouldn’t forget him quite so quickly, though. Her knight in shining armour, the man who had actually believed she wasn’t insane and rescued her from a lifetime of misery locked in Lewisham Asylum. Louisa knew Robert Fleetwood’s face would grace her dreams for many nights to come.

She slipped out into the darkness and gently pulled the door closed behind her. As she heard the latch click she knew there was no going back now. Taking a deep breath, Louisa pulled the shawl Mrs Kent had lent her across her shoulders and walked down the steps. It was a chilly night, the sky was clear and cloudless and the air crisp, but Louisa was no stranger to cold. In the asylum the winter nights had been almost unbearable. More than once Louisa had thought she would perish from the icy temperatures alone.

With one final look at the house she’d felt most at ease in for the last nine years, Louisa hurried off down the street. It wouldn’t do to linger. Every second she remained, a little bit of her resolve weakened. She turned the corner at the end of the street and disappeared into the night.

* * *

Robert woke up, gasping for air. The screams and shouts that had been haunting him in his dreams faded into the darkness, but he was left with a pounding heart and his muscles tensed, ready for action. He knew if he closed his eyes he would see the faces of his fallen comrades as clear as the day they had died. He might have come home from the war over two years ago, but the awful sights he had seen still haunted him at night.

Slowly he sat up in bed and reached for the glass of water he kept on his nightstand. It was tepid, but as the liquid hit his throat, Robert didn’t care—it was more about distracting himself from his nightmare than needing a glass of water.

He sank back down on to his pillows and lay staring up at the ceiling, knowing he would not get a wink more of sleep. Not that he wanted to. If he succumbed to the tiredness that flowed through him, making his eyes droop, he knew he would be right back on the battlefield, looking at the agonised faces of his friends as they took their last breaths.

As he lay in the darkness he listened to the sounds of the house. It was quiet outside. His closest neighbours on either side were elderly couples who didn’t attend any social events and his house was off the main thoroughfare so they didn’t get many passing carriages. Inside the house there was the occasional creak of wood, but it sounded as though all the servants had retired for the night.

Robert was contemplating getting up and heading down to his study to look over some papers when the distinctive click of the front door being closed came to his ears. He listened for any further sound, but the house was entirely silent.

Rising quickly from his bed, he strode over to the window and pulled back the curtains. He looked out into the moonlit street. Louisa was just turning away from the house, pulling a woollen shawl tighter around her shoulders and walking off down the street.

For a moment Robert froze as his mind tried to process what he was seeing. He couldn’t understand why Louisa was out in the street, leaving his house.

After a couple of seconds he sprang into action. In this instant it didn’t matter why she was leaving, it just mattered that she was. Or more specifically that she was out on the streets of London all on her own in the middle of the night. Even in a neighbourhood like this Robert doubted she’d survive more than an hour before she ran into trouble.