Page 22 of A Lady's Beloved Novelist
The letter felt as though it was getting shorter each time he finished reading it; James leaned his head back on the tree and let out a heavy sigh, unsure of what to do or how to respond to what had been said.
Of course, his feelings for her were growing by the day, and James had felt a slight drop in his heart when he thought she was no longer interested in him. But he just was not sure of the best way to react to the letter.
One thing that stood out to him, in particular, was the handwriting. Before leaving for his stroll, James had compared it with the fan mail he received from the anonymous girl. The handwriting was far too similar for it to be a coincidence.
Although he had previously dismissed his theory, there was no longer any doubt in his mind that Andrea was the one who had been writing to him anonymously. The thought always brought a smile to his face. It meant he knew much more about her than she ever realised, and that was something he found rather amusing.
During their meetings, she was now revealing things about herself that he already knew to be true because she had written them down and told her favourite author—who also happened to be him.
He understood her in a much deeper way than perhaps even she was aware of, and that troubled him. James felt it was his duty to tell her that he had been hearing from her for months already.
Different ideas sprung to mind as he thought about showing her the letters directly, or perhaps including them in the letter he would send as a response. He was of half a mind to simply go to her at that moment and tell her exactly how he felt, but James wanted it to be perfect. He did not want to make any mistakes in what he wanted to say to her, and so he would have to do what he did best: write.
Back in his home, he set pen to paper almost straight away. It was a relief to him that Cecil was nowhere to be found, though he was slightly concerned that the man would find a way to get himself into trouble or cause more commotion which would ultimately only look bad on James.
Dearest Andrea,
Words will never be able to explain how much your letter meant to me. It was a pleasant surprise to receive such a treasure from you.
I have thought long and hard about how to respond to the points in your letter, and I must say I find it admirable that you are so honest and open to new ideas. I understand that as a woman, this must be difficult for you, and I can only begin to imagine the struggle you face.
For the part I have played in your frustrations, I can only apologise. It was never my intention to leave you feeling such a way, especially when my only intention is to make you happy…
James shook his head and crossed through what he had just written. It was not coming across in the way he wanted it to. It was frustrating because he simply wished to go and see her and tell her himself, but he was scared about getting it wrong as he did in his letter. At least with the letter, he could scrunch it up and try again without having to take back the words he had already said.
He hoped she would appreciate the effort he was putting into getting it right. James knew Andrea was not like the other women he had come across in society; she had guts and ambition, she was curious and wanted to learn about more than just embroidery and how to host soireés all the time.
Over the course of the evening ahead of him, the bin at the side of his desk started to slowly fill up with sheets of crumpled paper. Each one of them was a failed attempt at expressing his heart on paper and coming up short or simply not being to James’ liking. His patience was waning, and his enthusiasm was no longer as high as it had been before.
It was becoming a matter of urgency as to what he was going to do, but before he had another moment to think about it, the sound of the front door closing jolted him from his thoughts.
“Darling, I am home,” Cecil called through the house to him. James let his eyes close for a moment, his tolerance already low for whatever his old friend had to say.
“I am busy,” James muttered as Cecil’s shadow appeared in the doorway to his study.
“Ah, of course,” Cecil mocked whilst chuckling to himself.“I was just coming to talk more with my old friend whom I have not seen for years, but if you are busy…”
“Cecil, I hate to sound rude, but Ireallyam in the middle of something,” James said whilst gesturing to the paper on his desk. He hoped his old friend would be able to determine from the mess and a growing stash of crumpled paper that he was rather perplexed at that moment. James was simply praying Cecil decided not to ask any further questions.
“All right, I suppose I will go and make myself at home,” he said whilst shrugging.
Cecil had developed a mannerism that James could not remember the Cecil of the past ever possessing. He would swing his head as he spoke and look down his nose as though trying to spot something on the tip of it without using a mirror. There was also a nasal tone to his voice that was new, and James wondered if it had been developed through age or accession in social status. If he were a betting man, he would have put his money on the latter.
James sat back in his chair and let out another frustrated sigh now that he was back on his own. He was not sure how he was ever going to respond to Andrea, but it had to be perfect.
He blinked a few times and spotted from the window to his right that night was already starting to fall. The room was a lot darker than James had been expecting now that he was pulling away from his work; his eyes had clearly been adjusting to the dying light as he continued scribbling down his feelings.
But he did not bother lighting the lamp because he could stay at his desk no longer. All he wanted to do was to clear his head, and for that, he was going to need the night air.
“Where are you off to at this hour?” Cecil looked up from his book as James walked to the door.
“I am just going for a quick stroll along the lawn,” James said, shrugging nonchalantly. He was trying to act as though it was something he did often so that it would not ignite any suspicion in Cecil.
“And you waited for the sun to go down to do this?” Cecil asked with a wrinkled frown.“I thought you already went for a walk today?”
James shifted slightly, not liking the way that his guest was now scrutinizing how he was spending his days on the estate.
“Yes, well it is good to stay active, Cecil.” James shrugged.“I have been in my study all afternoon, and I think it would be good to get some final fresh air before bed.”
