Love Letters to a Lady: A Historical Regency Clean Sweet Romance Novel

by Fanny Finch

  “It is my own fault that this folly continued on for so long. If I had not been a coward—if I had been a person possessing of an ounce of true responsibility and bravery I should have come to you at once. I would have rectified the situation once it had become such a mess.

  “I will certainly not trouble you any further. If you wish to not see me at any future gatherings then you need only inform me. Please extend my deepest sincerities and apologies to your mother.”

  “To my mother? What for?”

  “That I shall not be seeing her today,” Mr. Norwich replied.

  Julia could not help but feel that there was more to it than that. That in delivering that message she would be providing her mother with a second meaning lurking underneath the first.

  “Yes, she does prefer to sleep in given how late the nights can run,” Julia replied lamely. She felt completely wrong-footed and didn’t know how to get back onto solid ground.

  This was one of the few people in the world with whom she could always easily converse. And now it was as though they were strangers.

  “I… suppose that I will take my leave of you, then,” Mr. Norwich said at last. He bowed, and turned to go.

  Julia swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. She did not want him to leave. But she also did not know how to convince him to stay. Nor did she know what she would do or say if he did stay.

  “How—how did you believe that this meeting would go?” she asked.

  Mr. Norwich paused. He did not quite look at her as he spoke. Rather, he stared in the direction of the floor but seemed not to see it, nor to see anything else that was in front of him.

  “I had hoped—I had allowed myself to hope—that I would be given the chance to propose to you.

  “That I might officially offer you my heart and my hand. I can admit that I was not quite certain of how I would deliver such a proposal. I was rather hoping that I could rely upon… the impulse of the moment to carry me through.

  “But I see that I overestimated myself and grew to hope for too much. We need not speak of this again. If you wish we may even pretend that this conversation or indeed even our entire correspondence never happened. I will follow your lead and behave in whatever manner will make you the most comfortable.

  “Now, if you will excuse me, I have business to attend to this morning. You have nothing but my kindest thoughts left with you.”

  Before Julia could even think of what to say next, or if she even wanted to say anything next, Mr. Norwich was crossing out of the room.

  He was gone.

  Julia stood there for she knew not how long. It might have been only a minute or two. It might have been a full hour. She knew only that she felt rigid, fixed to the spot, even while her stomach churned and made her feel almost dizzy.

  She still could not quite believe it. Mr. Norwich was her correspondent. He was her mystery gentleman.

  He had been in love with her for all of this time. And she had never even begun to suspect.

  Mother had known, though. Hadn’t she?

  Surely that was a part of why she had said that she wanted Julia to marry him. And that entire lecture the other day—Mother’s whole speech about how Julia did not appreciate the people around her. How she did not see what was in front of her.

  That must have been referring to Mr. Norwich.

  Why else should her mother bring it up? Why else should she say all of those things to Julia? It was so out of the blue for her, but it hadn’t been for her mother and wouldn’t be if Mother had spent all of this time watching Mr. Norwich pine unrequitedly over her.

  Julia did not wish to wake her mother up immediately but she knew that the moment she heard that Mother was awake, she would be speaking to her.

  She had to sort out this mess inside of her head and her heart somehow. And who better to speak to about that than her mother?

  Besides, she needed information. She needed to know what her mother knew. Because if she did know that Mr. Norwich was in love with Julia then what else did she know?

  Did she know about the letters? Had the first letter been her idea? Had she been a part of this the entire time?

  Or had she only observed the state that Mr. Norwich was in and felt pity for him?

  Julia could feel shame rising in her, choking her. Her mother had pitied the man who was in love with her, because Julia herself could not see it.

  She informed the servants that she would be taking no more calls that morning. She had a headache, and if anyone was to call, kindly tell them that she was indisposed that morning and to leave their card.

  Then she went upstairs to her bedroom, locked the door, laid on her bed, and cried.

  Chapter Sixteen

  James walked home but did not notice anything on his journey.

  The carriages, the other people, even the weather, were all lost to him. He could not have said whether it was raining or blessedly sunny. If he passed any acquaintances then he had no recollection of it. He did not see them.

  She did not want him.

  Despite growing close to him through letters. Despite declaring in those same letters that she loved him. Despite saying that she cared for him and wanted to know who he was.

  She had realized who he truly was and she had found him wanting.

  He ought to have known. It had been the greatest of follies to delude himself into thinking that she might ever see him and fall for him. He should have realized that she would be picturing some other man. A better man.

  When he reached his home, he immediately informed the servants to begin packing up the house. “Prepare it for vacancy,” he told them. “I shall be leaving as soon as everything is arranged for me to depart.”

  He sent a letter to his father to inform him that James would be returning to the estate in the country early. He asked that if there was any business in London that James needed to take care of for him to please inform James posthaste so that he could take care of it on his way home.

  A few days should be long enough to get everything settled and to receive a letter in return from Father if he was needed in London.

  He then went out, visiting business associates, letting them know that he would be concluding his business here for the time being. Most of them expressed sorrow at seeing him go but none questioned it.

  He was to inherit a title, after all. It made sense that he would have to leave and go home to check up on the estate.

  James made sure to send out his apologies to those who were hosting dinner parties and outings. He had been invited to some and had already accepted a few.

  Now, however, he would not be in Bath to attend them.

  He figured that it would take him no more than three days to take care of everything in Bath and prepare the house for a long absence. He saw no reason why he should be returning any time soon. Unless Father wanted to come and use the house for some reason. Which he did not count as likely.

  Perhaps it was yet another act of cowardice. Perhaps this was running away. But he would not stay and torture himself any longer.

  No more would he stand by the side of the woman that he loved and torture himself with knowing that she did not care for him as he did for her.

  No longer would he pine after her and be her friend while hiding his true feelings.

  He would always be her friend if she needed him. He could not exactly blame her for her lack of feelings. One could not control with whom one did and did not fall in love.

  But he would need time to get over this blow. It was a crushing one and he did not think that anyone could expect him to recover from it in the span of only a day or two.

  He would take his time in the country. Focus in on his work with his father. Go hunting and riding. Immerse himself in things that would hopefully distract him from Miss Weston.

  James figured that if he timed it right, he would return from the country at the start of the next London season. He would undoubtedly see Miss Weston there. Most likely to be marrie
d at that point.

  He was not sure if he could attend the wedding—but he knew that he must. He was her friend. He would always be there for her if she needed him.

  If she were to write to him out of the blue and ask for his aid, then he would give it. So many years of acquaintance demanded it. And besides, he would want to. He wanted to care for her and provide her with whatever peace of mind that he could.

  It was only that he needed time. Hopefully he would have enough of it that he could see her during the season with a smile. That he would no longer feel that ache deep inside.

  Many acquaintances expressed dismay when they received his messages informing them that he would be quitting Bath posthaste. He was a bit comforted to know that he was so valued by his social circle, but it was not enough to compel him to stay.

  On the morning that he set out, he was almost tempted to ride past Miss Weston’s house. He was leaving early, before most people of his station were up and about. She would most likely be asleep.

  But there was no need to torture himself with that nonsense. He rode out of Bath, towards home.

  Hopefully, towards the beginnings of healing his heart.

  He did not look back.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Julia cried herself into a light slumber, awaking only when there was a knock at her bedroom door from the maid.

  She quickly splashed her face with cold water, let the maid in, and then went to find her mother.

  Mrs. Weston was sitting in the drawing room, enjoying a leisurely cup of tea, staring out one of the windows.

  “I thought that I had heard you get up this morning,” her mother said. “But then I saw that you were still abed. Or that you had gone back to bed. Is everything all right? Do you feel ill?”

  “I am not ill. At least, I have no illness of the body.” Julia sat down next to her. “Mother. When you spoke to me the other day. When you were so harsh.

  “You said that there were people around me that I did not appreciate as I should. People who I had overlooked.

  “Were you speaking of any person in particular? Were you speaking, perhaps, of Mr. Norwich?”

  Understanding lit up Mrs. Weston’s eyes and she gave a slow nod. “Ah. I see. Did he call upon you this morning?”

  Julia nodded.

  “And that is why you went back to bed.”

  She nodded again. She did not trust herself to speak without crying.

  Mother reached over, taking Julia’s hand in hers. “Ah, my darling. You know that he would never wish to upset you.”

  “It is not his feelings that upset me,” Julia admitted, her voice going high as she struggled to hold in her tears. “It is the knowledge that I have been so selfish. So unobservant. I ought to have known.”

  “He did not wish for you to know. He hid it from you. He hides himself from everyone very well. Better than most people realize. They only see the jovial heir. But I remember the boy that he was and I think I am one of the few who knows of the depths hidden in his heart.

  “But he did not wish for you to know how he felt and so he put on his mask. The mask that he has been wearing all of his life. How were you supposed to see through it when it was not his intention that you should?”

  “He is my friend. And I took him for granted.”

  “I am not saying that you did not. And I do think that an apology of some kind might be in order.”

  “How did you know? Did you suspect?”

  “I confess that I did not. I thought that it was always a possibility, seeing as you are a lovely young lady and he is a gentleman.

  “But when I approached him and confided in him that I wished he would be the man to win your heart, I thought that this might be the first time that the idea had occurred to him.”

  “You—” Julia stumbled over her words. “You asked him to try and court me?”

  “I thought that you two would be well suited for one another. Out of all the gentlemen of your acquaintance, he was the one that I liked best. Both for his own sake and as a partner for you.”

  “Did you—were you—did you suggest to him how he might win me?”

  She honestly did not know if she expected her mother to say yes or no regarding the letters. On the one hand to suggest such a thing was improper. On the other hand, her mother telling Mr. Norwich at all that she was rooting for him was also improper.

  And her mother was not always one to stoop to the strictest definitions of propriety. Her wit saw to that.

  But her mother shook her head. “No. I only told him that you might not realize how much value he held for you until he told you of his feelings.

  “He was adamant, you see, that you did not care for him in that fashion. I agreed that either you did not or that if you did you were unaware of it. I told him that it would not hurt him to try. After all, one cannot be certain of one’s reception until one asks.”

  “And that was when he told you that he harbored affection for me?”

  “He hinted as much, although he did not confess it outright until later when I pressed him as to why he was not courting you.”

  Mother did not know about the letters, then. Julia was unsure if she was relieved or not.

  For how could she confess to her mother what she and Mr. Norwich had been doing? There was a strong likelihood that Mother would be furious and condemn both Julia and Mr. Norwich for the scheme.

  But on the other hand, how could she disclose to her mother all that had happened, how could she seek her mother’s full advice, if she did not tell her the entire truth?

  “Did he propose?” Mrs. Weston asked gently. More gently than Julia had expected.

  “I believe that he meant to. But he did not get much farther than disclosing his feelings.”

  “Did you tell him that you did not return them?”

  “I was not sure what to think. It was quite a shock to me. I tried to inquire further so that I could understand. But I honestly do not know what to feel, or what to think.”

  Julia looked up at her mother. “Tell me what you think I should do.”

  Her mother thought for a moment.

  “I think that you are welcome to all the time that you need in order to process what you have just been told. There is nothing wrong with needing a bit of time to adjust to some new information.

  “But I would assure him, in person or through writing, that you have not fully rejected him. That is most likely what he believes to be the case and I think it would be unfair of you to keep him in despair for too long.”

  “Would it not be more cruel to give him some kind of hope only to take it away again if I decide that I do not care for him in that manner?”

  “I suppose that is one way to look at it. But you can also consider that at least this way he will know that whatever your answer may turn out to be, you gave him the thought and consideration that he deserves.

  “This way he will know that you did not dismiss him out of hand. That you do care for him, enough to think about his potential as your husband.”

  Julia thought that was a fair point. “You want me to marry him.”

  “I want you to be happy. And I believe that he will make you happy. I know that we are past the age of purely arranged marriages. And I do think that a lady should be allowed her choice in a husband.

  “But there is also something to be said for how well a parent does—or should—know their child. I believe that I do know you rather well. And that all parents should understand what sort of person their child is. The kind of person their child would be good with, the sort of person who would be able to give their child what they needed in a marriage.

  “I believe that out of all the young men that I know, Mr. Norwich will be best able to take care of you. That he will be able to provide you with what you need. That he will safeguard your heart.

  “I know that you do not love him as of this moment. But you do respect him. You know him well, and you two have spent many years as acquaintances. You have
respect for him. And he is in love with you.

  “You could do far worse for a husband, if you should ask me. And I think that his temperament is perfectly suited for yours.

  “Mr. Carson, for example—he would never indulge your imaginative nature, your sense of romance, the way that Mr. Norwich would. If you but gave him the chance I think he could be capable of quite a bit of romance.”

  Oh, Mother, you have no idea, Julia thought. He was a romantic man. He had written her letters. Made up a special pet name for her. Poured his heart and soul into his correspondence with her.

  “He respects you greatly and appreciates your intelligence. And you two are equals in wit. He makes you laugh. I do not know of any other man who makes you laugh or stands up to your wit as he does.

  “Most other men would be irritated at such an intelligent and headstrong wife. But he appreciates it and indulges it when you are getting to be a bit too much for most others. I think that is something that you cannot afford to overlook.

  “I could simply be your overprotective mother. I know that I worry about you and your father too much. Especially you. But if you do want my honest opinion, dear, and if I were to pick out any man for you to marry… it would be him.

  “And he is a darling boy. He always has been. He was your father’s favorite, you know. Or perhaps you don’t. But the poor man was never close to his mother. Flighty, vain thing she was. I never could stand her.

  “I know it’s wrong of me to speak ill of the dead so I shan’t go on about it but in any case. Your father and I always viewed him as a son to us. We would like for him to be happy as well.

  “Because when you are looking at a potential couple—you aren’t simply looking at one half of it, are you?” Mrs. Weston smiled softly at her. “You’re looking at both parts. He might be good for you but you might not be good for him, or the other way ‘round.

  “I fear that too many people find someone who will be good for their child and then never stop to think about if their child will be good for that person.