by Fanny Finch
“After all, it takes two people to make a marriage happy. If one person’s needs are fulfilled but the other’s are not then we have an unhappy union on our hands. And nobody wants that.
“I believe that you would be just as good for him as he would be for you. You would help him to be genuinely lighthearted instead of pretending to be. You would be a safe place for his heart, I think, my dear.”
Julia almost wanted to tell her mother that she already had been that for him, through their letters. But now she was no longer certain if that was true.
She had been so focused on what her mysterious gentleman was to her. How important he was to her happiness. She had never stopped to think about just what she was contributing to the relationship. If she was being all for him that he was being for her.
He had told her that he had feelings for her. And so she had taken it for granted that she was fulfilling his emotional needs. But had she been? Truly?
She didn’t know anymore. It terrified her to think that perhaps she had been failing to hold him up and support him as he had been supporting and holding her.
“It is your choice in the end,” her mother concluded. “But now you know my thoughts on the matter. I actively encouraged him to pursue you. I thought only that it might help.”
“When did you know that you were in love with Father?” Julia asked.
Mother thought about that for a moment. Then she said, “You know, it was in the middle of the most mundane of days.
“I know that I have spoken to you before about how true romance is to be found in the little things. This was one such time.
“You see, I had just learned that I was pregnant with our first child.” A sad light came into her mother’s eyes. “He was named after your father, although he died without having once breathed. But that was later. At the time I was just so happy.
“For while I had respected your father and been well acquainted with him, the true reason for my excitement over marriage was that I wanted to have a child. Several children.”
“I am sorry,” Julia blurted out, “if I have not been enough. I know I cannot make up for the loss of so many.”
“You are more than enough,” her mother said sternly. She patted Julia’s cheek. “You are the apple of my eye, my darling. You have no responsibility to make up for the losses we received. That is not your burden.”
Julia nodded, and Mrs. Weston smiled, squeezing her hand and then sitting back.
“In any case, I was quite excited. It was also my first time dealing with such a thing, and as you can imagine I had quite a lot to learn.
“One of the things that I had not thought about was that I would develop such unusual food cravings. I did not think that your father noticed since he was so busy all the time. And I was the person who spoke with the cook and handled such matters.
“But I had developed the deepest love of apple pie while I was pregnant. I struggled not to ask for it from the cook too much, for I knew that they would soon be out of season and I did not wish to bother her. Nor did I wish to waste our funds on such a frivolous matter.
“Furthermore, your father did not—and he still does not—like apple pies. I did not wish to impose them too much upon him.
“Yet I noticed that even on the nights when I did not ask for them, there would be an apple pie for me. And not a large one, either, but a small one that was the perfect size for just one person.
“I asked the cook about it, and she told me that your father had come to speak to her about the matter. He had noticed how unhappy I was when there was not an apple pie after supper and had asked the cook to always make one for me, only a smaller one so that we would make the apples last longer and I would not feel ashamed of making him eat any.
“It was such a simple little thing. But it showed how well he noticed what I liked and what I wanted. And he went out of his way to make sure that I knew I could have what made me happy.
“And the smaller pies just for myself meant that we could stretch the crop of apples longer and I was able to have the pie for longer than I should have otherwise.
“It was rather sweet of him. It was him giving me permission to eat what I wanted and never to mind him. And for a gentleman to go into the kitchen and avail himself of the domestic side of things, so that his wife could be happy!
“In that moment, I realized that I was in love with your father. This sweet man who had done such a gesture for me and who had not expected praise or recognition for it.
“To be sure, it was not a new dress, or a fine piece of jewelry, or a trip to the seaside. But it was a sign of how much he paid attention to me. How he was willing to go out of his way for me. That he truly cared.”
Julia could not help but smile. It was a sweet story, and one that she had not ever heard before about her parents.
It made her think about Mr. Norwich. Or, rather, him and her mystery correspondent.
Her correspondent had taken great care to pay attention to her. He had given her a specific pet name, one based upon both her looks and her personality. He had responded to her fears and had supported her.
Mr. Norwich had though as well, had he not?
He was always the person that she knew she could trust. If she had told him about the letters she knew he would have kept the secret. It had only been her fear of laughing about it that had prevented her from saying anything.
She had not thought that he had a romantic bone in his body. Yet his letters had been filled with such sweet things.
He was a loyal friend to her. He always bantered with her and sat with her at dinner. He never seemed to grow tired of her. He helped her out when she felt that she was in trouble. When her parents had told her that she must marry, he had been the person to whom she had run for support.
True, he had not given her what some would consider to be proper romantic gestures. But what were flowers or ribbons when he poured his heart out to her in a letter? When he trusted her not to spoil the whole exchange of letters by gossiping? When he validated her and told her not to settle for anyone refusing to accept who she was, including her intelligence?
Not to mention the whole mysterious letter business was fairly romantic in and of itself.
She had a romance in front of her the entire time. Waiting for her. She had simply failed to notice it.
And then when it had found her in spite of herself, she had bungled it.
Julia wondered if she would be able to know if she loved Mr. Norwich the way that her mother had known that she loved her father.
“Oh, my love, don’t be upset,” her mother said, sensing her distress. “You will find it in time. I think that you will find it with Mr. Norwich but you are a very loveable person. If not him, then someone else.”
“Am I not running out of time, though?” Julia asked. “You and Father have said…”
“Well I do wish that you would hurry up with finding it,” Mother laughed. “And that you would take the entire thing more seriously. But there is no reason to panic.”
“I fear that I have lost not only a potential husband, as you say, but a friend.”
“Whether you harbor romantic feelings for him or not, I know that Mr. Norwich will not abandon your friendship. He is too decent of a man for that. He might need some time to recover from the blow, but he will not turn his back on you.”
Julia nodded. She had quite a lot to think about.
“Is there anything else that you wish to ask me?” Mrs. Weston asked, an amused twinkle in her eye.
“How you can be so lighthearted about this, Mother, I have no idea. You do know that the poor man’s heart is at stake. And possibly mine.”
“Trust me, my dear, I am very much aware. But somebody must play the part of laughing at heartache and sorrow. Otherwise we should all be far too serious for our own good.”
Julia smiled wanly. “I hope that it will be all right if I do not go to the ball tonight. I would prefer to stay at home.”
That was
the benefit of the public balls at Bath. She would not even have to bother sending a regretful letter informing her hostess that she could not attend. For there was no official host.
“We will make an evening of it together,” her mother replied. “I can read to you as I did when you were a child. We can play cards. Perhaps I shall even have the strength for singing while you play the pianoforte, hmm?”
Julia’s smile grew. “I would like that.” She had not had an evening with just herself and her mother in far too long.
“Good. Now, off with you. I have to nap in the sun and you I am sure have household business to which you must attend.”
Julia rose, kissing her mother on the cheek. This, at least, was a love that she did not doubt.
Chapter Eighteen
While she whiled away the afternoon, for once not getting ready for a ball, Julia decided to write to Georgiana.
She had been writing to Georgiana faithfully, but she had not told her about the mystery gentleman with whom she was corresponding.
First of all, she had not wanted to bother Georgiana with such news while her dearest friend was busy planning her wedding.
Second of all, she simply had not been able to risk the letter falling into the wrong hands.
The more people who knew about the secret, the more likely it was to get out. A moment of carelessness on Georgiana’s part and her maid might read the letter. Then the maid would tell another, and another, and one of them was sure to tell her mistress, whoever that might be.
And then it would have been all over.
Not to mention, she could not have asked Georgiana to keep such a secret from her fiancé Captain Trentworth. Those two told one another everything.
But now she simply had to write to her. She needed the advice of her best friend. And she knew that Georgiana would not judge her for her actions.
She spent nearly all afternoon on the letter. She had to get rid of several first drafts. They were far too rambling, too detailed, and too emotional.
There was no reason to make Georgiana read words that were smudged with tears. Nor did she need to know every single detail about each letter they exchanged.
And if she was to write to her, then it must have some sort of cohesion and follow the timeline of events. Rather than skipping around and stumbling and interjecting all over the place.
Honestly. It was as if she’d never written a letter before.
At least it was Georgiana and so Julia could be more candid than she could with anyone else.
Well, anyone else besides her mystery correspondent.
She had not realized until now just how much she had told him until he was taken away from her. Normally if she was upset, she would write him a letter.
It had not been something that she had intended. It had simply… happened. It had become a habit to share with him not only her dreams and aspirations but her fears and her woes.
Now that she had lost him, she was able to understand how important he had been to her. How unfair was that? How could life dare to be so ironic?
Or, rather, how could she dare to be so very stupid.
She felt like a hopeless little girl, a silly little girl, all over again. She told Georgiana as such in her letter.
I am at a complete loss as to what to do. I fear that I have wounded him irreversibly.
And I deeply mourn the loss of my companion. Both my friend Mr. Norwich and my mysterious gentleman. I had not realized how much I relied upon them both until they were taken from me.
Although that is an unfair way to put it. Mr. Norwich did not take my leave for any reason other than my own selfish behavior. I pushed him away in both of his forms.
I wish that I knew what I wanted. It feels as though all of my feelings and thoughts are a jumble and I don’t know which way is up.
Part of me wishes that I had not pressed so hard to find out who my letter writer was. That I could have continued to have him in my life. For I did love him.
I do love him.
But I am unsure as to my feelings for Mr. Norwich.
I am terribly sad to have potentially lost his friendship. He has always been a man upon whom I could rely. I know that he was most kind to you when you were going through that unfortunate business with Captain Trentworth. Before things were all sorted out, I mean.
He has been a loyal man and most thoughtful with me. I always knew that he was someone I could talk to in a crowd. I most enjoyed dancing with him at balls and now I suppose that I shall have to avoid him. Or that he will avoid me.
Mother says that he will not go so far as to end our friendship. He is a generous man, far more generous than I deserve, but I cannot help but wonder if he would be quite that generous.
I have, after all, dashed his hopes. And this was after I led him on for so long—but I did not mean to. I am in love and yet I am struggling to reconcile the man that I know from the letters with the man that I have known as my friend all this time.
She hoped that she was not rambling too much, or that if she was, Georgiana would forgive her. Georgiana was used to her explosions of emotion and rambling by now.
Julia concluded the letter with the sincere hope that Georgiana was doing well and to please inform her all about her wedding plans. Julia did genuinely look forward to the wedding and she wanted to hear all about how it was all going.
Once she sent out the letter, she retired to spend the rest of the day with her mother.
It was a surprisingly relaxing day. She did not quite manage to forget her woes but her mother did an admirable job of distracting Julia as best she could.
And it had been far too long since she had spent time only with her mother. It was important that she focus on that relationship. She didn’t know how much time with her mother she had left.
She could not hide forever, however. She had her obligations to society. The next day she had to go out to a dinner party.
Julia could not deny that she dreaded it. The last that she had heard, the dinner would be attended not only by her but also by Mr. Norwich.
They had discussed it, in fact, only a week or so ago. They had both been looking forward to it.
She was not at all prepared to face him again. She felt so ashamed. And they would have to act as normal. Nobody knew that he had even been trying to court her.
When it came to a man proposing to a woman and being turned down, normally everyone knew that man had been courting her. It was a small mercy, because it meant that hostesses around the area could take care to not invite both parties to one place.
Or, if they did, it was to a much larger ball or dinner party where they need not interact with one another. It was a concession to the embarrassment that both parties must be feeling at that time.
But nobody knew. As far as anyone could tell, she and Mr. Norwich were still quite good friends.
Julia tried to brace herself all day for the inevitable. She would be courteous. No, more than that. She would be kind. Attentive.
She could not speak plainly but she could show him through her attitude and actions that she still respected him. She would not approach him, of course, unless he approached her.
She would not jump at him like a yippy sort of lap dog. She usually did, she had come to realize. The moment he walked in the door she would pounce on him, asking questions, throwing information at his head, yammering on.
How had he ever put up with her? She must have been horrid.
Well, she would have to find some way to apologize to him for it. For everything. All of the mistakes she had made over the years.
But when she got to the dinner party that evening…
The very first thing that her hostess did was hurry up to her. Mrs. Longsome was a chatterbox but well-meaning.
“Ah, Miss Weston! How is your mother? Is she doing better? Have you heard from your father? We do so miss his company at the dinner table. Quite a wit he is.”
Mrs. Longsome could and would go on for quite some t
ime if she was allowed to. Julia allowed it to simply wash over her, not really worried. The longer she spoke to Mrs. Longsome, the less chance she’d have of running into Mr. Norwich and being forced to speak with him.
Yes, she was aware that it was a cowardly thing to do. But with so much still left unsaid between them, as well as too much that had been said already and could not be taken back… She did not think that the two of them speaking with one another was the best idea.
“…it is rather sad that Mr. Norwich had to send his regrets and not come after all…”
“What?” Julia blurted out. “Mrs. Longsome, what did you say? Mr. Norwich will not be attending tonight?”
“Oh, but I thought that you must know! Your families are such great friends, after all. You two are always talking together at parties and such. Why, there was even a time where…”
“Mrs. Longsome, please, did he say why he would not be attending?”
“Did you hear nothing at all?” Mrs. Longsome looked torn between concern over this and eagerness to be the one to share such news with her. “Well, it appears that he has been called back to his home estate by his father. He has quit Bath entirely.”
“Entirely?”
“Oh, yes. If he has not left already I expect that he will be gone by tomorrow. Or perhaps the day after. But it should not take him long to set his affairs in order so that he can depart.”
It felt as though all of the air had gone out of the room.
Mr. Norwich had left. He had gone. And but for what reason other than because of her?
Julia did not buy that excuse about his father sending for him. She did not buy it for a single moment.
Others might believe it. And why should they not? They knew nothing about what had only just gone on between her and Mr. Norwich.
But she knew. And this astounded her.
She had not realized that she had hurt him so deeply that he must flee. For it had to be in order to avoid her that he had gone.
Oh, she must be the most awful and ungrateful of people. To drive away a good man in such a fashion!
It was a good thing that nobody knew about their almost-courtship. She would never hear the end of it through the gossip chain.
