by Fanny Finch
Nobody would have dared to say anything to her face. That was not proper. But she would have managed to hear all the same. Just as Georgiana had unfortunately heard all those barbs about becoming an old maid, before Captain Trentworth had shown up on the scene again.
She was glad that she had taken the risk along with Mr. Norwich in the writing of the letters. It meant that at least now that things had gone sour, nobody knew about it.
Yet, Julia could not suppress the ache in her chest at the thought of him leaving. Not only was it because of her and her own awful behavior, but it was also because she was going to miss him.
She did miss him. Who was she going to speak with at parties now? Who could she rely on as a wonderful dance partner at balls?
She had thought that having to see him at these social events and enduring the awkwardness would be awful. And it would be. She knew that it would be, she could tell. But it would be a different kind of awful from this and she wanted that other kind of awful.
This was miserable. She felt his absence like someone had taken something out of her chest and left it nothing but an echoing and empty cavern.
The dinner party felt dull to her. As though the lights had been dimmed. She could hardly remember any conversation afterwards on her way home.
When she got home she slept roughly, lightly, waking up several times, discomforted.
“How was everything?” her mother asked when Julia came down to breakfast the next morning.
“Everything was quite up to standard. Mrs. Longsome gives her regards and says that they miss Father at their parties.”
“And how was Mr. Norwich? Were you two able to remain civil to one another?”
“He was not there,” Julia admitted.
Mrs. Weston frowned, setting down her knife and fork. “Not there?”
“He has gone out of town. Back home to his country estate. They said it was because his father summoned him but I know that it is because of me.”
“Oh, my dear.” Mrs. Weston’s face was sympathetic. “It will all blow over with time, I can assure you. At the least, you do not have your own broken heart to worry about.”
But I do, Julia wanted to scream. I loved the man I was writing to. I do still love him.
She knew it was cruel of her to think in this way. But it felt as though Mr. Norwich had snatched that man from her. That the man she was in love with had melted away like snow in spring.
Now she was left with a double image. A man that was both the person she knew and loved and a friend that she was realizing she did not know nearly so well as she thought she had.
In fact, she did not know her friend at all.
He was a stranger to her. He had long harbored thoughts of love for her that she had not even guessed at. And she had always considered him to be the sort of man who had not a care in the world. Yet it turned out, through his letters, that he was a very thoughtful and serious person who was private, hiding himself from others.
She could vividly recall when she had spoken of Mr. Norwich to Georgiana, who had not yet met him. She had called him the sort of person who had everything in the world and so did not always consider why others would take things so seriously.
How foolish she had been! How she had underestimated him! It made her stomach clench in embarrassment to think on it now.
Georgiana had told her of Mr. Norwich’s kindness towards her during the trying time of her courtship with Captain Trentworth. There had been much frustration and mistakes made by the captain and Georgiana during that time. Although, if you asked Julia, the majority of the blame still lay on the captain’s shoulders. Though she had forgiven him, for he adored Georgiana, and Georgiana loved him dearly.
When Julia had heard about it all from Georgiana she had been uncommonly impressed with Mr. Norwich. She had taken it to be because Mr. Norwich had felt some measure of attraction towards Georgiana.
She could not blame him for that. Georgiana was a remarkable woman. And if he was in love with Julia all that time and knew she did not love him back, why shouldn’t he consider another woman instead?
In any case, she had thought it was all because of his attraction to Georgiana. And because Captain Trentworth had known Mr. Norwich’s brother and was staying at his house as a result.
But now she could easily guess that Mr. Norwich would have been so kind and supportive no matter who the lady in question was.
How badly she had misjudged him.
How could she say that she was in love with someone when she did not, in truth, know who they were? When they were a stranger to her? Someone that she had written off and misjudged all of these years?
If only she had seen him for who he truly was. If only she had not been so narrow-minded in her judgment, so self-centered.
At the very least, she supposed, she could learn not to make the same mistake with others in her life. If it was not already too late with some of them.
Mrs. Weston seemed to sense her continued dark mood, for she said little and allowed Julia to eat her breakfast in silence.
The next two weeks felt empty, drained of color. She had not realized until he was gone how much she had relied upon Mr. Norwich for companionship at balls and dinner parties.
He would even accompany her and her friends, or her and her mother, when they went shopping. He would carry their parcels for them. And when she wanted to go out on an excursion, he was the male chaperone who would go with her and the ladies so that they would be safe from any misadventure.
Now that he was gone, she found herself without one of the pillars of her social life. She would have to find a new male chaperone for some things, and she did not look forward to it. Why on earth would she want to pick another man when they were all so dull-witted and boring and full of themselves?
Julia had always struggled to find a man who could hold her attention. A man who appreciated her wit. This was not new. But it was only now that she realized that Mr. Norwich had been fulfilling those roles for her, those needs, and she had not even realized it.
Every time she had to talk to a man at a dinner party or dance with one at a ball, she found herself wishing that she was speaking with Mr. Norwich instead.
How she had relied upon him. She had gone to him in between each set of dancing in order to speak with him. Now she could not.
When she got a new bit of gossip she would instinctively turn to find him and share it with him—but now he was not there.
She was tempted to write to him. To share through letters all that was going on. To tell him that she missed him.
But how could she do such a thing? It would be selfish of her to focus only on the ways in which she missed him. She had to think about what she had been to him and not only on what he had been to her.
He was her dear friend. But she had been his source of unhappiness. The woman who had taken him for granted.
She could not write to him now talking about how she missed him. He was not a servant who had the job of entertaining her. She had no hold over him, could make no demands.
It was as she was trying to balance herself in this new, strange equilibrium that Georgiana’s response arrived in the mail.
Julia opened it eagerly, hardly breathing as she tried to read her friend’s words.
Georgiana had always been the more level-headed out of the two of them. Georgiana, surely, would know what to do. How to sort this out and make things right again.
My dear Julia,
It feels as though it has been an age since I saw you last. I confess that I deeply miss your cheerful and energetic company…
The letter detailed how the wedding plans were going. How wonderful Captain Trentworth was. How Georgiana’s brother and sister-in-law were faring. And so on.
Julia read through that part happily but with a bit of annoyance. She was desperate to know what Georgiana thought about the entire Mr. Norwich situation.
But she did acknowledge that it was clever of Georgiana to put all the o
ther news first. If she had put it after the Mr. Norwich part, Julia should never have read it.
Clearly, her friend knew her all too well.
At last, Georgiana got to the part that Julia was dying to read.
…as for your situation with Mr. Norwich.
I must say that I am a bit surprised. I had never guessed, not even once, that he harbored such feelings for you. Which I can assume was his aim.
He was, as you know, perfectly thoughtful and kind to me when I stayed with you in Bath. He even insinuated that he would be happy to marry me if I had no other options.
I thought it strange that he should suggest such a thing. His admiration for me was genuine, I could sense, but it did seem premature.
Now that I know he was in love with you, it makes much more sense. If a man cannot be with the lady that he loves, then saving another woman from the ruin of spinsterhood is a perfectly acceptable option. Especially if one does truly respect the lady in question.
The one facing spinsterhood, I mean. I should hope that if a man is in love with a woman that he would of course respect her as well. I do not see how it is possible to love someone that you do not also respect.
But in any case.
While it was astonishing to me in the moment to read, as I reflected upon it, it made quite a lot of sense that he should be in love with you. I think that a great number of men have been in love with you at one time or another, my dear.
If you truly do not love him in return then I think perhaps some distance would be wise. This will give the both of you time to reflect and to calm yourselves after what has happened. You can both begin to heal.
However, I must be frank with you.
The way that you spoke about Mr. Norwich in your letters revealed a tenderness towards him and a reliance on him that I do not think even you have realized. I do not think that you know how deep your affection for him goes.
You were aware that you had feelings for the man to whom you were writing those letters. How is that man any different from Mr. Norwich?
And unless I recall him inaccurately, he is a handsome man. Rather your type of handsome, I believe. The sort of look that you find most attractive.
The man that you know as Mr. Norwich is still the man that you know from the letters. They are not two different or separate people. Therefore, if you love one then you must love the other.
But even if that were not enough to persuade you, my dear Julia, I must again point out how you spoke about Mr. Norwich himself.
Even I had not grasped until your letter just how important he was in your life. The depth of regard that you hold for him is immense. He is a fixture in your life already. I would not be surprised if many people believe you two to already have been courting.
You speak of him as your friend. As your confidant. As someone who is entertaining and witty. Your favorite person to dance with. Someone who is so a part of your life that you cannot imagine your life without him in it.
Julia, darling. Do you not see what has happened?
You are indeed in love with Mr. Norwich as well as your friend from your letters. It is fortunate that they are one and the same. If they were not, then I suspect you would have gone through your entire life without realizing how and what you felt for Mr. Norwich.
But since they are the same person, now the truth may hit you full in the face, as it really ought to. My dear, silly girl.
I think that perhaps that was even part of the reason why you fell in love with this letter writer. You told me that when you thought it might be Mr. Carson you felt an odd sense of disappointment.
I believe that is because, whether you realized it or not, you wanted it to be Mr. Norwich.
Love is not always something that strikes us suddenly. It is something that can creep up upon us without looking. It is found in the small things.
You are not in love with one version of a man and confused about the other side of him. Rather, you are in love with one person, and have simply allowed yourself to overthink yourself into a tizzy.
Please forgive my forward language. But it is my duty as a best friend to inform you when you are making a mistake, is it not? And this is far from the first time you have done such a thing, my dear. Your imagination and emotion are wonderful but they can also allow you to become carried away or to overthink things.
Now, I cannot tell you how to proceed. This is your affair and indeed your life. Not mine. But if I were you, I should inform him of my thoughts.
I should tell him that I was in love with him and returned his affections to their fullest depth and extent. I should apologize for any confusion and for taking so long to come to the realization.
I would tell them that all the things I said in my letter to him when he was simply my mystery correspondent were true.
Now, I know that must be a frightening prospect for you. I am certain that it would be frightening for me as well.
Telling Captain Trentworth about the truth of my feelings for him the second time was quite terrifying. Standing up to him was terrifying as well. But both things were necessary and we are better off for them.
It might be difficult for you to find the words. Personally, that is why I think a letter should be best. You have a tendency to rather… well, there was the time you rather lost your temper with Captain Trentworth.
Not that he did not deserve it. He wishes to have me inform you that he does understand the… what he calls a ‘tongue lashing’ was richly deserved.
In any case, I do think that to avoid saying anything you would later wish to take back, or to avoid any embarrassing moments such as bursting into tears… it might be for the best if you write him a letter.
But I really would consider doing such a thing, Julia. I do not know if you can hear yourself when you speak of him. Or if you truly read what you have written about him when you go back over your letters to check for spelling errors.
The regard in which you hold him is so painfully obvious to me. I’m certain that I cannot be the only one who has noticed such a thing. Has nobody ever asked you about your relationship with him? Am I going mad here or is everyone else blind? Or perhaps too scared of the retribution to say anything?
I would not be surprised if that were the case. You really are too witty for your own good at times.
Which reminds me of that lovely little pet name he gave you. Julia, most people only dream of finding a love like that. Most people consider themselves lucky to continue to respect their spouse after the initial blush of infatuation has faded.
I know of far too many couples where one spouse has come to despise the other. Or where they both barely tolerate one another. Or, as seems to most often be the case, they are simply used to one another and treat each other like furniture. There is no warmth or true regard in their interactions.
But you have been lucky enough to find a man who truly loves you and understands you. Please, do not be so foolish as to throw that away. Not when you also understand and love him.
As someone who once practically threw away her own chance at love, I know of what I speak. I was lucky enough that the captain came back into my life and gave me a second chance.
Not everyone is so fortunate.
And finally, my dear, I must say that I think that you have done yourself a disservice.
You say that you do not know the man. That you do not appreciate him and that you have overlooked him. Now, this all may be true to an extent. I think it is important that we admit our faults and confess when we have done something wrong.
But you do understand him. You do know who he truly is. You have seen it through the letters.
Who Mr. Norwich is in public is not a complete lie. It is merely another side of himself. You have spent enough time with him over the years that I daresay you knew him better than you thought you did, even before the letters.
You are inclined to be far more tough upon yourself than is your due. You are not so selfish as you fear.
We are all guilty of being short-sighted at times. Of making mistakes. Of not appreciating those around us or not even seeing them clearly. Not appreciating how much they mean to us.
I cannot say that I was blameless in my courtship with Captain Trentworth. Nor can he. When my brother was courting his wife, they both made grave errors in judgment. I remember that there was one point where they were both convinced that the other hated them.
Shakespeare can be rather overdone but he had a point when he wrote that the course of true love never did run smooth. There are going to be times when you make mistakes. The point is to acknowledge them, apologize, and do better. Without destroying yourself inside because of it.
To err is human, my dear.
I do hope that you will take a look at your own words and actions and realize what I have seen. That you will come to understand that you had fallen in love with Mr. Norwich without realizing it. That he is the same man that you fell for through letters and that he would make you happy.
I truly think that you two will be happy together.
This is all simply my opinion, of course. But you did ask for my opinion. And so now you have it.
Please be sure to write to me and tell me how you fare and what your decision is. I admit that I am full of excitement over the developments. And it will give me something to think about other than this wedding.
I am quite looking forward to being married. The wedding itself, however, is much more work than I think is due.
In any case. Please do let me know how it gets on. I wish for nothing but happiness for you. It is in your grasp, I am certain, if you only will have the courage to see what is right in front of you and seize it.
With all of my love and support I remain, as ever,
Georgiana
Julia stared down at the letter.
Already in love with Mr. Norwich?
She was in a chair before she even realized that she had made to sit down.
In love with Mr. Norwich… and not even having realized it?
It sounded ridiculous. Like something only a heroine in a particularly stupid play would do.
