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

by Finch, Fanny

  She had picked out the guest list herself with Mother. And while Mother had her opinions, all of the people that had been chosen were people with whom Julia enjoyed conversing.

  It was only that now she knew she was supposed to choose one of the men to wed… or at least try to choose one of them…

  Now, all she could see were their flaws.

  Mr. Harbinger was far too chatty and would talk forever. And not usually about anything particularly interesting. He would wax poetic for a full half hour about the weather, for goodness’ sake.

  Mr. Blithering, on her left, was far too full of himself. A man who thought too much of his own character could never think so much of his wife’s. Julia refused to be married to a man who would not give her the respect that was due to her.

  It was a little more difficult to converse with others, since they were seated far away from her.

  But oh, what she wouldn’t give for it to be an ordinary night.

  On an ordinary night, Mr. Blithering’s arrogance would be amusing. Something to tease and indulge. Mr. Harbinger’s boring anecdotes would be something to quietly and inwardly snicker at.

  Now, they spelled doom. She might be forced to be paired with such a man!

  Julia would never have admitted it to passing acquaintances, and indeed had admitted it only to two people in her entire life, but she wanted a proper romance.

  She wanted a man who respected her. A man who was crazy about her. A man who would do ridiculous things like send her love poetry.

  Oh, she was well aware that it was ridiculous of her to think such things. But Georgiana and her suitor had exchanged copies of love poems. Surely Julia could wait for someone who would do the same for her?

  Marriage, however, was mostly a pragmatic game. Mother had been overall pragmatic in her marriage. Although she had admitted to Julia that out of her potential suitors, she had chosen Father because she had most liked his personality.

  Julia wanted more than just ‘like’. She wanted to feel the madcap rush of love. The fathoms deep swells of it. The aching pain in the stomach. She wanted what novels and playwrights spoke of, what Shakespeare and numerous others had so exalted.

  Unfortunately, that seemed to be beyond her reach at the moment.

  It seemed to be beyond the reach of most ladies and gentlemen that she knew. For all that ladies and even gentlemen liked to wax poetic and giggle about courtship… there was something ruthless and businesslike about it.

  For instance, she had seen many women cut down other women, humiliate them, in order to eliminate the competition for an eligible man.

  It was worse in women than in men, but Julia understood that. Men married to continue the family line and to solidify their status in life. But they did not need a wife in order to survive.

  Men could be financially independent. Women could not. A woman needed a husband or she would starve. She would be outcast from society.

  It was the terrible fate that had awaited Georgiana Reginald, had she not been reunited with Captain Trentworth and everything worked out between them.

  Julia did not wish to be one of those ladies. Nor did she wish to become catty and competitive. Or to be subject to such behavior from other women.

  She simply wanted a sweet romance with a gentleman with whom she could converse. Was that too much to ask?

  All right, so maybe more like a passionate romance than a sweet romance. And maybe she wanted more than simply being able to converse with the gentleman that she would marry.

  But still. All that talk about love and romance, that must be because enough people experienced it. She didn’t want it to be some fanciful thinking. Something to dream on. She wanted it to happen to her.

  In any case, no dinner had dragged on the way this one had. She had found herself almost willing her mother to descend into a coughing fit so that she might end the whole affair.

  Of course it was an awful thing to think. She quite hated herself after she’d had the thought. But she was feeling so utterly miserable.

  She did not even have the pleasure of speaking with Mr. Norwich throughout dinner. Usually they sat close enough to each other that they might converse. Especially at dinners that she hosted, for she always made sure to put him by her side.

  Mr. Norwich was always a lively commentator. No matter how dull or annoying any other dinner guests might turn out to be, she could always rely on him.

  Unfortunately, she’d had to put him with Mother this time.

  Now she did not even have the support of her friend to make up for this torture. And for all their banter, she knew that Mr. Norwich supported her.

  They had known one another nearly all their lives. He had been one of her father’s pupils back in the day.

  Of course, he had been such a rambunctious boy then. Julia had thought him most distasteful. He had grown up in great wealth and stature and seemed incapable of understanding that not everyone was so blessed.

  He had lived in a happy little bubble. Julia had been incredibly impatient with him over it.

  At first, he had not respected her. He had looked down his nose at her for being a girl. He had declared that she could not possibly hold her own against him.

  Well, there was nothing that Julia liked so much as a challenge.

  She had taken to reading her father’s books late at night by candlelight. She had doubled the time she spent practicing her dancing. She had memorized poems and passages from plays.

  Whenever Mr. Norwich had come to banter with her, she had been ready for him.

  If he spoke loftily about philosophy, she knew her Greeks as well. If he tried to stump her with religion, she knew that too.

  In time, he had to concede that Julia was just as intelligent and capable as he was.

  It was still a triumph that she thought on with great pride.

  Father had later on confided to her that he was glad that she had been so competitive. It had spurred Mr. Norwich into furthering his studies and made him a more focused student than before.

  As their rivalry had faded and their mutual respect for one another had grown, friendship had grown in its place.

  She could now count Mr. Norwich as one of the few people whom she trusted completely. And whose company she truly enjoyed.

  And for that she’d had to put him next to Mother. Who else out of those assembled could she trust to look after Mother with such care?

  Julia put Mr. Norwich out of her mind. He was an entertaining and loyal friend, but not what she needed to think on at the moment.

  After dinner finished they retired to the sitting room where Julia got out the cards for those who wished to play. Mother was a fan of bridge. Luckily, Mr. Norwich was quick to gather some people up to make them an even four so that Mother could play.

  Julia resolved to speak to the men that she had not had the pleasure of sitting next to at dinner.

  Although ‘pleasure’ might be a dubious concept in this respect.

  It was as though now that she knew she might have to spend the rest of her life with one of them, these men were no longer interesting. All she could see were their flaws.

  She was not impressed, not swept off her feet.

  It was probably unfair of her to expect to be like a heroine in a play and simply fall smack in love with a man the moment she saw him across a room.

  That seemed to happen to heroines all the time in plays.

  But surely when she spoke to a man there ought to be a spark of some kind. The only time she had any sort of fun was when she spoke to Mr. Norwich about how the bridge game was going.

  He was a tease, of course, as he always was. He could be grave when the situation called for it. But Julia had not seen him be serious about anything other than the whole affair with Georgiana.

  He had been most kind and thoughtful to her. It was why she still considered him a dear friend even though he often drove her quite out of her mind. When the cards were on the table, he came through.

  Mo
ther took her sweet time in saying goodbye to all of the men. She talked with Mr. Norwich for some time but that was not unusual. Mother had always been fond of him. Julia dared to even think that he was perhaps like a son to her.

  She knew that Mother had always wanted more children. She could only hope that she managed to somewhat make up for being the only one.

  Mother always said that Julia had enough energy for five children, at any rate.

  But talking with all the other young men—that was unusual. It was probably Mother’s way of subtly reminding Julia what her new focus was supposed to be.

  As if Julia was capable of forgetting something as big and life-changing as that.

  When all the men and women had left, Julia all but collapsed onto a chair.

  “How was it?” her mother asked, pouncing at once. “What did you think of them?”

  “Mother, honestly?” Julia sighed. “When I made this guest list I was not thinking of men that I should potentially like to marry. I was thinking only of people that should entertain me in the moment.”

  “Well, that was your first mistake, my dear.” Her mother sat down in her favorite armchair. “You ought to have been thinking about marriage. You have gone without thinking on it for far too long.

  “You need to invite men not because they will provide a moment’s diversion. Rather, you must invite men that you can potentially see yourself marrying. If I was able to properly play the hostess, you would give your requests to me.

  “There are of course social obligations to consider. People that we must invite to other dinners or mix in with the gentlemen and young ladies.

  “But in any case, there is no reason why you should not be disposed towards the men who were here tonight. They are all fine, upstanding gentlemen of good income and from distinguished families.”

  “As if that is all there is to entice a woman to marriage,” Julia replied.

  “That is all that should be needed to entice you,” Mrs. Weston shot back without missing a beat. “Ladies cannot afford to be picky.”

  “But they are all so terribly dull, or so awfully full of themselves. I should hate them before the year was up.”

  “I have the slightest suspicion that you would hate starving even more.”

  Julia sat up straight. She wished to glare at her mother, but that wouldn’t do. Mother was feeling poorly. What if this was their last conversation and Julia was horrid to her?

  “Please, Mother. Try not to inject every sentence with your usual acid. I am well aware of my position.”

  “Clearly you are not aware of it enough or you would have taken pains to try and find a husband before now.”

  “It is only that I have been so focused on you. You and Father are so wonderful and I worry about you both.”

  “You do not have to butter me up.”

  “I am not buttering you up. It is the truth. I worry about you. I worry about Father as well. Do not mock me when I am genuine. I should think you would know by now when I am being so.”

  “And can you not see that we are worried for you? A parent’s chief concern is not their own health but the wellbeing of their child.

  “If you wanted to set us at ease you had best do so by finding a husband. Not by fretting over my hot water bottles and what the doctor tells us, which is of course always different from what he told us on his previous visit.

  “That is always the way with doctors. We cannot do much about my health. But I suspect I can manage well enough.

  “You will have a much harder time of managing if you are still unwed by the time your father passes.”

  “Is Father gravely ill?” Julia blurted out before she could stop herself. “Should I be worried for him? More so than usual, I mean? Is he all right?”

  “Your father is fine, so far as I know. And it is not like him to keep important things from me. If he were ill I think I should know it.”

  “Then why impress this upon me all of a sudden?” Julia knew she was close to being petulant but if her fate was to be unleashed upon her like an anvil then she felt she had a right to know why.

  “It would not be sudden if you had given it the proper thought all of this time.”

  “Have people been speaking about me? Saying unkind things?”

  “Is it not possible that a sickly mother and a tired father simply come to realize that their daughter has been of marrying age for quite some time? And that they wish for her to be safe rather than sorry? To be prudent? Is it not possible that we simply long for grandchildren and to see you settled? That we worry for we know that life is short and unexpected?”

  Julia crossed over to her mother, sinking down to her knees and placing her hands in her mother’s lap. “Do not work yourself up so. Breathe carefully. Would you like some water?”

  Mrs. Weston sighed. “That is what I am talking about, my dear. You are quite worried for us. We appreciate it, for we love you. It is not everyone who can say they have such a conscientious daughter.

  “But you cannot waste your youth on our old age. It is not right. I fear that someday you will look up and find that in tending to us, you have condemned yourself.”

  Mother placed her hand gently on Julia’s head. “And that is not something that any parent should wish, is it? Being a parent is ultimately a selfless act. You give of yourself to your children. It should not be the other way around. That is not how it is meant to be.”

  Julia bit her lip. “But… Mother, what if I cannot be satisfied only with respect between myself and my suitor? What if I wish for something deeper? For a proper romantic courting?”

  Mother stroked her hair. “Romance is not all about fine letters and poetry and flowers, my dear. Romance is found most often in the little things.

  “Someone who makes you laugh. Someone who knows when you are truly upset. Someone who is loyal and steadfast. That moment when they pass you the sugar without looking because they know how you like it in your tea. When they have bought you a book they saw because they thought you would enjoy it.

  “That is where true romance is found. Flowers fade and so do kisses. Jewelry is empty when you realize it is a way of buying your affections. Or buying your forgiveness when your husband treats you ill.

  “But in those little moments. Where you are shown how well they know you, how much they pay attention. That is romance.

  “And if you were to pay a little more attention and think of things in that manner, I think you would find that romance is truly right in front of you. More of it than you would expect.”

  Julia was not so sure. Mother was an intelligent woman. But she was also a pragmatic one. She had declared Romeo and Juliet to be nothing close to the sort of romance one should emulate.

  “It is about the folly of grudges,” she had said. “I should never use Juliet as an example of how one must behave in love.”

  And so really, what did Mother know? Mother did not have a truly romantic bone in her body.

  “But at least, Mother, you can understand why I should wish for romance?”

  Mother sighed. “I am not one for such things, but I suppose that I can see the appeal. I fear that if that is what you are waiting for, though, you will not find it.

  “Look instead for the small shows of affection. They are more numerous and with the passage of time they are what will sustain your heart.”

  Her mother took her hand off of Julia’s head. “It is high time that I went to bed. I am quite exhausted.”

  “Did Mr. Norwich look after you? Were you well taken care of?”

  “He was most attentive. You know how well he knows me by now. He is a sweet boy.”

  “He has not been a ‘boy’ for some time, Mother,” Julia replied, smiling as she stood up. “I am glad that he looked after you.”

  “I can look after myself, you know. I am not quite so much an invalid yet that I am incapable of sitting around and talking. But I do appreciate the care you have for me, Julia. I know that I do not always show it. But
I truly do.

  “I hope that you will do me the favor of caring for yourself as I wish to care for you. That you will see yourself through your mother’s eyes. I cannot find the strength to attend balls with you and assist you in finding a husband. That is a failure on my part.”

  “No it is not!” Julia was filled with indignation on her mother’s behalf. “You cannot help your illness.”

  “Nevertheless, it is my duty as your mother to help you in such things. I cannot. Therefore, I am not providing for you as I should be. You have to take it wholly upon yourself.

  “Treat yourself as I wish to treat you. Find yourself someone. And do think on my advice. If you look for romance in the smaller things and the more mundane I think you will surprise yourself with how contented you are with it.”

  Mother went up to bed then. She moved with a quiet dignity, despite her illness. She did move more slowly than she had in previous years. But she did not allow her back to be bent or her head to fall.

  Julia hoped that if she were ever in the same situation that she would bear it so well.

  She hoped that she could bear this present situation well.

  If only she could be pragmatic. But that had never been in her temperament.

  She supposed that she would have to simply focus in on the men and see what she could turn hopeful.

  Hopefully it would be something more exciting than what she had dealt with tonight.

  Chapter Four

  James had overall tolerated the dinner. It would have been nothing less than enjoyable had he not felt the specter of Miss Weston’s news hanging over him.

  Could he even dare to throw his hat in the ring?

  The fact that Miss Weston had confided this information to him suggested against it. She would not have told him such a thing if she was intending to think of him as a potential suitor. She had told him this as a friend, as a confidant. Not as someone that she was hoping would propose.

  No, he dared not let his fancy run away with him. Miss Weston had seen him as an ally. A support. Perhaps someone who could help her in avoiding rakes. Not as a suitor himself.

  He had done his best not to focus upon Miss Weston all through dinner. Instead he had turned his attentions to the other young ladies and gentlemen, and to Mrs. Weston especially.