An Improper Companion by April Kihlstrom

easy one. And my behaviour did not aid matters.
    I searched his desk and, finding paper, pen, and ink, set myself to the task of composing a suitable note. How to begin? I could scarcely write: My Dearest Leslie, or any similar form of address. Though I searched my memory, I knew there was no protocol in such a case. Sir Leslie was too formal and Leslie still seemed to intimate. The use of my husband could only serve to remind him he was shackled to me. At last I settled upon a letter that did not please me, but would, nonetheless, serve the purpose.
    Leslie,
    No doubt you believe me to be unspeakably rude and unthinking. I cannot say you are without justification. My behaviour this afternoon was unpardonable. You believed me to have been told falsehoods. I have not even that excuse, for your servants are too loyal to speak other than with complete fairness of you. I knew that in the matter of Jane you were in no way at fault. I should not have spoken of it when I could not help but know it would be distasteful to you.
    In the future I shall endeavour to curb my tongue, but I fear I shall not always be successful. I pray that on this occasion you will accept my apology.
    Heather
    Nervously, I surveyed what I had written. It would have to suffice. How to deliver it? If I summoned a servant, the entire household would know by nightfall. I must place it either in Leslie’s or his valet’s hands myself. I folded it carefully, determined not to delay the matter.
    I knocked hesitantly, twice, before his chamber door opened. “Yes, my lady?” Peter asked coldly but respectfully.
    I held out my note, “I do not wish to disturb Sir Leslie, but pray give him this as soon as it is convenient to do so.”
    “My lady,” he said, taking the note, “if I may say so, Sir Leslie is sadly out of curl at the moment. If this will disturb him further—”
    I brought Peter up short. “It should not. It may even improve matters.”
    “Very well, my lady,” he said dubiously, “do you expect an answer?”
    “No,” I turned to withdraw, then paused to say, “Thank you, Peter.”
    The valet bowed and closed the door. I imagined him approaching Leslie with the note, in trepidation. Or perhaps he would read it first. Certainly he was in Leslie’s confidence. I only hoped he was as discreet as Leslie believed him to be. I was debating whether I might have time for a walk before tea when Mrs. Morgan encountered me in the hallway. “My lady,” she said, “will ye have tea in yer chamber this afternoon? As the others are?”
    She seemed distressed so I replied soothingly, “It means extra work, doesn’t it? Separate pots of tea and all. Well, you needn’t bother with mine. I shall not take tea today.”
    “Not take tea?” she exclaimed.
    “No, I am going for a walk,” I said and departed, leaving her staring after me.
    I walked directly to the copse of trees, for sitting by the stream always soothed me. And within the copse I could not be seen from the castle and thus no one could come to call me back. I had come to love the estate, and in different circumstances might have been happy here. As matters stood, the serenity of the fields and woods kept me from complete despair.
    It was late when I retraced my steps to the castle, and I was fortified with the resolution to behave more reasonably in the future. I went immediately to my chamber in order to dress for dinner. To my surprise, a spray of roses sat in a bowl on the table beside my bed. “What? How?” I exclaimed.
    Ellen was as mystified as I. “I don’t quite know, my lady. Peter, Sir Leslie’s valet, brought them. Said they were the first from the garden. The master’s orders. But why, I wouldn’t know, my lady.”
    I smiled. “The blue gown, this evening,” I merely said. “I would not have Lady Mary believe me to still be a green schoolgirl.”
    By the time I reached the drawing room, Mary was already there. “You look lovely,” she said as she greeted