by Fanny Finch
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.
Yet… Mother had talked about how she hadn’t realized she was in love with Father until that gesture with the apple pie.
Could it be that she had fallen for him and had not seen it because it was all in the little things, as Mother and Georgiana had said?
Was it possible that part of why she had realized she fell for the letter writer was that he was obviously romantic in the way that she was looking for? He wrote to her in secret, risking his and her reputation. He gave her pet names. Spoke ardently about himself and about his thoughts for her.
He had been clear in his romantic intent from the moment that they had begun their correspondence. In his day-to-day self, however, he had not been.
Instead he had shown her his love through subtleties. Through being trustworthy. Through always carrying her shopping, always chaperoning her. By listening to her and being patient with her. By making her laugh and indulging her sense of humor and wit.
In all of those little ways, he had shown her that he loved her. And she had accepted them and fallen for him without even realizing that was what she was doing.
It stole over her softly, like realizing that she had taken one glass of wine too many and was now beginning to feel fuzzy in her head, that whooshing feeling in her stomach.
She—she was in love with Mr. Norwich.
She had been for some time.
All this while she had seen him only as a friend, consciously, while in her heart she had been harboring for him the feelings that he had been holding for her.
How could she have been so thoughtless towards the workings of her own heart?
She was suddenly, immeasurably grateful that Mr. Norwich had written to her. Had he not, she would never have considered him. She would have gone on as she had been and never would have realized the depth of her feelings for him.
It explained why she was not happy when she thought Mr. Carson was her mystery correspondent. And why she was so wretched and distraught when Mr. Norwich left. Why she thought of him so often.
She had not only overlooked his place in her life and his feelings for her. She had overlooked her own feelings for him.
Truly, was there any woman quite as stupid as she? Could any other person on Earth claim to have been so unaware of themselves?
She wanted to find a carriage and go right to his estate and run to him. If he had still been in town she would have been tempted to quite literally run, through the streets, to bang on his door.
It felt as though there was something inside of her, far too big for her body to hold. It swelled up, overpowering and gentle all at once. A great wave of feeling.
Yet at the same time, it felt as though she was simply coming home.
But could she dare to say all of this to him?
How could she possibly admit that she had not known not only how he felt but how she herself felt? How could she say such things to him?
He would think that she was lying. Making fun of him. Or else he would think that she was the most witless girl on the planet.
Either way, he could not possibly want her, could he?
Not after the way that she had treated him. Not after her own ignorance had chased him away. Not after she had been selfish and unthinking.
Julia remembered what else Georgiana had said—to be kinder to herself. To not be so hard upon herself when she made a mistake.
She was worried that Mr. Norwich would not be able to forgive her. But perhaps the better question was whether or not she would be able to forgive herself.
She didn’t know.
If he forgave her—then she might. But she was not sure. What could she do that could possibly make up for the way that she had behaved?
“What does Georgiana say?” Mrs. Weston asked.
“She says that in my writing to her, it sounds as though I am in love with Mr. Norwich and have been for some time without knowing it.”
Her mother hummed thoughtfully.
“She also says that I must forgive myself for my mistakes and not to be too hard upon myself. And that I ought to write to him and tell him of how I am feeling.”
“Wise words.”
“I do not know if I can follow them.”
“What, you will not write to him?”
“I am still considering that matter. I meant more that… I am not certain if I can forgive myself.”
“It might take time. We must allow for that. But, do you love him? Has Georgiana got it right?”
Julia took a deep breath, then nodded. “I believe that she is right, Mother. That I have been… oh such a wretched fool.”
“Ah, none of that. We have all been fools for love in our time.”
“Yes, but usually we are fools for love in the sense that we do stupid things in order to win over the people that we love. Not in the sense that we are not even aware that we are in love!”
“You raise a fair point. But everyone is different. You have learned greatly from this experience, have you not?”
“Well… yes. I hope that I have.”
“That is all that life is about, my dear. We are all of us constantly learning and growing. There is no need to hurt yourself too much over it.
“For it is not truly the mistakes that matter. We are all going to make them at one time or another. What matters is what you do about them once you make them.
“Do you sit there and cry about the matter? Do you rail against yourself but take no steps to actually remedy the situation? Or do you step up and admit to your misstep and clean up whatever mess you have made?
“That is what matters. That is what people will remember. Not whether you made the mistake in the first place but what you did to fix it once the deed was done.
“Your ability to move forward. Your ability to forgive yourself. Your ability to be humble and to admit to your wrongdoings. Those are what matter in the end.
“Nobody wants to hear anyone go on and on about all the things that they did wrong. You will remember your own mistakes and failings for far longer than anyone else will.
“Just as there will be people who will accidentally or purposefully wrong you. You will forget about what they have done far sooner than they will. Your own guilt eats at you more than your condemnation of others eats at your opinion of them.”
Julia nodded. She did not suddenly feel as though she was worthy of forgiveness. But her mother’s words were wise. She supposed that she would just have to let time take care of her opinion of herself.
“Please do write to him, dear,” Mrs. Weston said softly. “It is what will make you both happy. No matter what apologies must be made. No matter what matters must be sorted out. Even if it will take you two some time to come together.
“If you love him, and he does still love you for love cannot simply be banished by rejection, then you must find a way to make it together. Because it is unfair to let your guilt and fear deprive you both of a happy relationship.”
Julia could feel herself trembling with fear and anticipation. “Very well then,” she whispered.
She would write to him. She did not know what would come of it. Or even if anything would come of it at all. But she would write him, and she would see.
Mrs. Weston smiled, clearly pleased. Her eyes were soft. “Oh, my dear. I do so hope that the both of you will be happy. You are both good children.”
“We are neither of us children, Mother, and have not been for some years.”
“Ah, but once a child in the eyes of a parent, always a child,” her mother repl
ied.
Julia could not help but smile at that. “Very well, I will allow the comparison.”
“You both deserve happiness,” Mrs. Weston repeated. “And I believe that you will be able to give it to each other.”
Julia could only hope that her mother would prove to be right.
Chapter 19
She resolved to write to Mr. Norwich the next morning. She needed the rest of the day to gather her thoughts and settle her mind.
