Page 17 of A Lady's Beloved Novelist
It would be the perfect way for Andrea to explain herself without having to worry about the judgement of others, nor having to face James directly. Of course, she could imagine the nerves she would be feeling until she received a response from him. Andrea was not sure he would even respond since she had been rather cold towards him over lunch. If it was the other way around, she would be hesitant to speak with him.
“We do tend to have some good advice between us,” her aunt said with a triumphant smirk.“You would think that one hundred combined years of existence, we would have something to offer up the younger generation.”
Andrea sometimes forgot that both women were now fifty. They grew older by the day, and yet their husbands would remain immortalized in the years they had died. Andrea knew her aunt’s husband, her uncle, had died in a war many years ago. She did not know much about Abigail’s husband, only that the widow had not been too fond of him when he was alive.
She could not imagine ever ending up like either of them, but if she had learned one thing from them, it was better to be a widow than to have never been married at all.
“Thank you both,” Andrea said whilst rising to her feet.“I am going to write him a letter right this instant and hope it will suffice as an explanation of my feelings.”
“That is the spirit.” Her aunt beamed at her as they all stood from their chairs. The two older women took slightly longer to stand, old bones creaking from years of being used.
Andrea was beginning to wish that she could ask them for more help and involve them in writing the letter, but that would involve revealing too much of herself to people that she did not want to hear such things. This was going to be a special letter between the two of them, something that would absolve her conscience for the way she had been treating James.
Chapter 8
Andrea was rather embarrassed to admit that a week had passed since her lunch with James and her mother. She had not heard from him, but she also had not sent the letter to him just yet.
She imagined he was busying his time with the quiet life he had created for himself off the back of the eventful years he had spent travelling. Andrea could imagine him roaming the grounds and often thought she would spot him and run out of excuses for why she had not been in contact.
The truth was that she could not finish the letter. No matter how many revisions she made, or however many versions it took, Andrea just could not articulate how she felt. It felt as though the words were clogged in her mind, as though there was a blockage somewhere, a buildup of thoughts that refused to be moved.
This was something that could affect the rest of her life, and that was not something Andrea was willing to compromise on.
Her words stared back at her from the page, her slanted writing highlighting certain parts that felt as though they carried much more weight when written on a page rather than spoken from a mouth.
Andrea continued to skim over what she had already written, her mind finding mistakes in each sentence as she read it again and again. In some parts, the tone was completely wrong; in other parts she did not feel that her words were strong enough to convey how she was really feeling. She did not want to give him an ultimatum, it was more of a warning of what she would not settle for.
There was a strong chance that her plan could go the other way and James could retreat from his advances to win her favour. Whilst there were other suitors out there for her, Andrea was beginning to feel a fondness for James that had not been there before.
She had enjoyed getting to know him, and the idea of not speaking with him anymore was one she could not bear. After taking a deep inhale, she steadied her quill and prepared to write once more.
Dear James,
I write to you from the heart and only from the heart. The last time we spoke, I understand that I was much more closed off and abrupt with you than I had intended to be. For this, I apologize, and I hope you will be able to understand my reasoning.
As a woman, there is both a lot and a little that is expected of me within Society. I have immense pressure on my shoulders to uphold a certain level of decorum, yet at the same time, I am told to do no more than maintaining a household.
Now, I am sure this is no easy feat, but it is nothing in comparison to the trials and adventures of men. Women are allowed no adventures. The ones that do dream of such things are ridiculed and labeled for being so fanciful. A woman’s life is much more boring than many men realise, and that is not a trap I want to fall into so easily.
It is the main reason that I have been as‘picky,’as people believe me to be, when choosing whom I show interest in. I hope this letter also reflects well on your character because it is you whom I have clearly shown my interest in.
There is something about you that I have not been able to rid from my head, but I will not be forced into a marriage where I will be bored and miserable for the rest of my life. That is something I will not be able to compromise on. If you are like the other men in my family, who expect me to live this life without even tales of adventures to keep me company, then you are crueler to me than I think you even realise.
It is for this reason that I have been protecting myself from such a fate. Yet in the process, I have understood how isolated that has made me. It has left me feeling alone, and that is also something that no person should have to feel. I can see your interest in me, and I believe it is reciprocated too. That is not something I want to lose so easily.
At lunch the other day, for which I have apologised, I was angry with you for treating me like a child. I have many questions about your travels, and I do not want to be spared the truth of the world as though I am not ready to hear it. I can assure you that I am more than ready and willing to learn more about what is out there through you and your stories.
I apologise for my plain words; someone told me this would be the best way to convey my feelings to you. If I have at all upset you with this, I do apologise, but once again, this is how I feel and I do not think it will change.
Yours,
Andrea
Going in with her quill, she was constantly making changes to her wording. Andrea could not help it, she just wanted it to be perfect. But that streak of perfection was costing her days each time she decided to approach the letter from a new perspective. She did not want it to sound too demanding, but at the same time, she did not want her message to be unclear.
After some tweaking one exact week since she had last seen James at lunch, enough was enough. She had to post it later that day, or she was sure she would put it off for weeks to come.
She needed a cut-off date, and she needed a way to stop thinking about the letter altogether. Her latter request seemed impossible even once she had placed the letter in the post, taking it out of her hands and her responsibility for the time being.
