Page 11 of A Lady's Beloved Novelist
He was sure she would want almost the opposite, but James did not want to change his tactic in winning her over just yet. It would look too abrupt if he were to suddenly launch into graphic stories of the places he had travelled to, or the things he had witnessed.
“I am surprised a girl like you is not in the city more,” James said before clearing his throat. He had decided to change the subject since he sensed a lull in the conversation.“A beautiful woman like yourself should surely be on display for the whole ton to see.”
“For the whole ton to laugh at because she is still not married,” Andrea corrected him.“I used to love going to London, but in recent years I have found myself on the wrong side of the gossip. I am sure if my mother had her way, I would be at every ball of every season until I had no choice but to accept the proposal of a man.”
“But she does not get her way?”
“Of course not.” Andrea smirked.
James could tell Andrea had a strong will; if she did not want to do something, she was not going to do it. It seemed no amount of convincing could sway her.
“I admire your determination not to have a husband who will not please you,” James found himself saying.“Tell me, what is it exactly that you are looking for?”
Andrea was quiet for a moment. They had successfully crossed the lawn and were heading for the tree line in front of them, neither showing any signs of stopping or turning around.
“I suppose I cannot really answer that,” she said finally.“I am hoping I will find someone who will be both tough but gentle, someone who has stories to tell but still has the same hunger for adventure.”
James felt as though he was halfway there with that. He was getting old, and he could feel the part of him that was usually bursting with energy beginning to wane. But he did not think it mattered, in his eyes, he could still charm her.
“I do not suppose there will be many members of the English gentry who have the kind of experience you require,” James said, trying to make light of her rather tall order.“You are a difficult woman to please.”
“But I know what I want,” Andrea added.“And when I am pleased, you will know about it.”
He was not sure what it was about her—be it her tenacity for something more, or the way she turned back and smiled at him—but James could feel his heart quickening with each moment they spent together. He could not put his finger on what it was, but he wanted more of it. He wanted to spend more time with her.
He wanted to ask her why. Why was she so determined to find something more? But he knew the answer and he knew she would not tell him because she had based her ideas of love off of a character that did not exist.
*
Later that afternoon, James decided to resume following his usual routine. He walked to the nearest town, where he had set up his post to be mailed to and checked for any new letters. Sure enough, he recognised the writing before he had even opened the letter. James could see it from a mile off that it was from the woman who wrote to him anonymously.
James always felt a buzz from receiving mail from his fans, though he was patient, and he waited until he was back within the safety of his own four walls before opening it.
Dearest Dean,
I write to you with the utmost urgency. I am in need of new material, and I need it soon. I have pored over your words again and again, but surely, it is time to satisfy your readers with some new stories?
I suppose this is what scholars feel when they have read the final piece of Shakespeare and have no new writings to look at. Though, I would hope you are still alive to change this fate. Otherwise, I fear I will go the rest of my life wondering what happened to the beloved Francis Griffith. Did his adventures simply stop? Did his passion for that kind of life ebb? Did he ever marry?
As always, I am visiting my local bookshop in constant search of your writings. I wish you not to rush whatever you are working on, but at the same time, I would also wish it to arrive in my hands as I finish this letter.
Your loyal and dedicated reader,
Anonymous
James put down the letter, his mind still considering the words on the page. He was reminded once again of the woman whose heart he was trying to win. Andrea could easily be the girl writing to him, but there was no way he could prove that fact and there was always the chance that it could be someone else. James tried to ignore the way his mind imagined Andrea’s voice as he read over the words one more time.
Did he ever marry?
No, he did not, James answered the letter in his head. He had not married, and that hunger for adventure really had ebbed in his life. Though, it now manifested itself in other ways; James was determined to win Andrea over, and he could feel the same kind of determination in his body that he felt when travelling foreign lands. This was a different mission, but one that still meant a lot to him.
James was going to have to change his tactics in future conversations. He thought back to how Andrea’s face had dropped slightly when he had toned down his talk of his travels.
They were just what she had wanted to hear about, and he realised now that he had been a fool to neglect that part of himself. In another incarnation, she was already in love with that part of him, even if she did not know it yet. The part of him, the Francis Griffith part of him, was still there, just on the pages instead of physically present.
That night, James could barely sleep. He wanted to see her as soon as the sun was up, but—like many of his adventures—one of the biggest keys to success that was commonly overlooked was patience. And so, he waited.
Chapter 6
