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

by Finch, Fanny

  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 replied.

  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 Nineteen

  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.

 
; But when she sat down to write the letter the next morning, she had scarcely pulled up her chair when she heard the sound of someone downstairs.

  She had a caller.

  Julia sighed and double-checked that she was presentable. It was most likely Miss Perry. She supposed that she ought to go down and receive the young lady or whoever else it might turn out to be. It was not her caller’s fault that she was impatient to begin this letter.

  She could start writing it once the person left. Who knew? Perhaps the call would distract her from her nerves.

  Mr. Norwich was not even in front of her and she found herself trembling with the anticipation. She both wanted to know immediately what he looked like when he read the letter and what he was thinking. And she also did not want to know at all.

  She both knew and did not know what to say. She thought she had an idea but she kept second-guessing herself.

  Was this how he had felt when he had written that first letter to her? When he had not realized that he had forgotten to put down his name? When he had no idea what her response would be?

  She had not given him enough credit for his courage. Now she knew his particular fear in this situation, for she was feeling it herself. She had of course known intellectually that it must be quite frustrating upon the poor nerves to do such a thing.

  But knowing intellectually and feeling it, truly experiencing it, were two very different things. As she was now realizing.

  Yes, perhaps some diverting discussion with Miss Perry or someone would do her some good.

  Julia came down the stairs to enter the drawing room and receive her visitor—and paused.

  It was not Miss Perry. Or any other woman, for that matter.

  It was Mr. Carson.

  Julia almost wanted to smack herself. She had completely forgotten about him in the midst of all of her other emotional turmoil.

  Now it looked as though her time was up.

  She almost wished to shake him. Almost. Letting out her frustration in that way, she knew, would not do her or anyone else any good. But it was quite tempting.

  She knew that it was her own folly that one night that had led him to be hopeful. But since then she had given him no sign of favor. She had taken care to stay away from him. To be too busy to dance with him at balls.

  Julia could not, of course, outright deny him. Not when he had not directly asked her for any promises. And not when propriety dictated that she do him the courtesy of responding to his company.

  But she had done her best to make it clear, since that night, that she was not interested. Or that she was at least not going to encourage him in any way.

  It was a delicate balance that ladies had to play. They could not be outright impolite to a gentleman. That would not be proper. It was important that everyone interacted at parties and that everyone was polite and understanding towards everyone else.

  However, neither should ladies encourage a man or be too friendly with him. Both for the sake of propriety and to prevent the man from retaining any false hope.

  Julia had thought that her lack of interest would be enough. A lack of response, surely, would show him that she was not prepared to continue their courtship. Such as it was. Mr. Carson had been rather slow in his courtship.

  Perhaps he had sensed something about her relationship with Mr. Norwich that she herself had not perceived? Julia was full of questions and thoughts and possibilities. Perhaps that was why no other man had truly approached her or tried to court her.

  But in any case, Mr. Carson had not been nearly so forward as suitors generally were. Julia had seen other men courting other women many a time and Mr. Carson had been practically meek about it.

  It did not suit the man, if she was being honest with herself. But it might be her saving grace if he was about to do what she suspected he had come here to do.

  “Miss Weston.” Mr. Carson smiled at her. “It is a pleasure, as always, to see you. I was glad to hear that you were home. I worried that you might be out and about, making other calls.”

  “No, sir,” Julia replied. “You have caught me at a fine moment. I was only writing some letters to friends. What can I do for you today? To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

  Mr. Carson smiled at her. “Perhaps you might wish to sit down?”

  “I thank you, sir, but I am fine just as I am, standing.”

  He nodded, as if to himself. Then he squared his shoulders and cleared his throat. “I hope that I am not about to be too forward. But I am hopeful. I cannot deny it.

  “You are a wonderful lady. I remember you as a brilliant girl when you were a child. I was your father’s pupil and I admired you as a person. However, I did not see you as a woman.

  “Now I do. Having seen you again these past few months I have been struck with your grace and beauty. Almost instantly I was captivated by you.”

  Julia tried to keep her face neutral yet polite. Inside, however, she was cringing.

  Mr. Norwich had never loved her simply for her looks. He had always seen and appreciated her personality, her intelligence, her wit. He had always truly seen her.

  How could she have not appreciated him until he was gone? She must find a way to get him back as soon as possible.

  When Mr. Norwich praised her in his letters and spoke of why he loved her, he mentioned first her wit. Her knowledge. Her energy. He spoke of who she was. He loved her quirks and her sharp tongue and her flights of fancy and her overwhelming nature.

  Mr. Carson was droning on about her looks. Mr. Norwich had praised her fashion sense, her hairstyle, her dancing—parts of herself over which she had control.

  She could not control whether she was pretty or not. It was nice to be told that she was but truly, she did not want a husband who only cared about what she looked like on his arm as they entered a ballroom.

  “You are truly the shining star of any ballroom that you enter. It is little wonder that you are so popular. I am surprised, I confess, that more men have not asked for your hand. I thought for certain that you would have turned down at least one other proposal by now.”

  His words were charming but altogether too much for her. Ridiculously flattering, to the point of making her wish that she could roll her eyes and dismiss him with a wave of her hand.

  “But I suppose that it shall give me the happy opportunity of being the first. I am ashamed that the men around me have not given you the proper notice that you deserve.

  “But I am simultaneously grateful for it, since it means that I have a chance to ask for something. Something that, when I first saw you, I thought that I could not dare ask, for surely you must be untouchable. Out of reach.

  “I confess that I am a practically minded sort of man. I have always believed that a marriage should be made up of opposites. Of two people who are different in nature so that they might balance one another out.

  “You are a lively and vivacious girl. You have wit and charm in abundance. You are wonderfully romantically inclined. I believe that we would be able to make one another a marvelous match.”

  At last he seemed to be wrapping up.

  Julia did not wish to have to tell him her own thoughts on marriage, although she would do so if the need arose.

  A balance of personalities was needed, yes. She could agree on that. But total opposites? Surely a couple also needed common interests. Points of personality upon which they could find common ground.

  If there was no way in which their personalities or interests converged then what on earth should they talk about? Would they not always be at odds? Arguments were sure to result.

  They had to find a way to agree on some things. To laugh about similar things. To come to an accord on important decisions.

  And was he only asking her to marry him because she matched his idea of who his wife should be? Because she matched a list of criteria and not for her own sake?

  It was frustrating, perhaps even angering. But mostly Julia just wanted it to be over. She was alread
y weary of him being in her house.

  He was a fine man and there was nothing wrong with him. But now that she knew where her heart lay she could not find it within herself to have patience for any other man.

  She knew who it was that she wanted. Who it was that her heart longed for. Why should she waste her time with anyone else?

  “Miss Weston,” Mr. Carson at last began. It was the official proposal portion, thank goodness. “Would you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage and becoming my wife?”

  Julia’s stomach twisted with nervousness.

  This was the part where she had to refuse him, without offending him.

  If he chose to complain about her behavior then most people would see her as being in the wrong. Society and the law were so rarely on the side of the woman. The last thing that she wanted was a scandal.

  And goodness forbid that Mr. Norwich find out about this through gossip if things went south. Julia did not know exactly what his response would be but it could not possibly be anything pleasant.

  Would he be angry with her if he heard? Upset? Would he think that she accepted? Would he think that she had purposefully led Mr. Carson on and condemn her? Set her aside in his heart for good?

  She could not bear the thought. No, she must do this correctly, gently. That way Mr. Carson would have no need to condemn her to others and the news would never reach Mr. Norwich. Not unless it was through her own disclosure.

  “Sir,” Julia began. “Sir, I am most flattered by your offer. I admit that it is rather startling and out of the blue for me to hear such a declaration. I was not aware that your feelings had become so deep and so vast.”

  “I am surprised at your being surprised,” Mr. Carson replied. “I had thought that my feelings were perfectly plain.”

  “They were the sort of feelings that might give a lady cause to be hopeful or speculative,” Julia replied. “But not enough to give her the solid ground of certainty.

  “I do not mean to criticize you. I only wish for you to understand. I did not realize that you were quite so far gone down the path of courtship. If I had known, I should have taken greater pains to prevent any further progress.