Last Chance for the Charming Ladies: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance Collection

by Fanny Finch

  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.

  “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 18

  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 Georgia
na 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.