Page 5 of A Lady's Beloved Novelist
“These only sound like good things,” Lily encouraged.
“But what if I do marry him? I will be elevating my title more than I want. I know my mother wants me to marry well but an elevation in title means an elevation in responsibility. It will only mean more parties to host, more balls to attend, more pressure on having more children, and on having a boy.” Even just listing off the negatives was putting her in a bad mood.
“The marquess has always seemed nice when I have spoken to him.”
“He is nice.” Andrea could not disagree on that point.
“I do not see why you cannot just agree to that match, you will be a sudden success in the eyes of the ton! People will love that you have accomplished such a feat! Do not forget how pleased and proud this will make your mother.”
“The day I marry to make my mother proud will be the day I lose myself completely,” Andrea grumbled.
“You are being so dramatic. You need to forget all about this fictional man and start living in the real world. Who knows, perhaps one day you will be a duchess?”
“He has always been a good friend,” Andrea said, her tone suggesting that she no longer wanted to speak on the subject.
Chapter 3
Sometimes, reading just was not enough to escape from the constraints of her life. There were only so many adventure novels on her shelf, and Andrea was almost positive that she had read them all at least three times. When the heavy clouds of boredom would weigh down on her shoulders, Andrea would then turn to her next favourite thing to do: writing to the author, Dean Morris.
Dearest Dean,
I am writing again to tell you of my cravings for new adventures. Your stories have thus far satisfied my appetite, but there are only so many times that I can go around the same adventures before I begin to want more.
As ever, your writing never ceases to amaze me. It holds a power over me that I wish I could articulate better to you. It is times like these when I forget myself and know I should not speak in such fluid and loose terms, but that is the effect your writing has on me.
I find my own life quite boring in comparison to the strange lands and obstacles that you write about. All that is destined for a woman like myself is marriage, and thus I am sure you can understand my frustrations when knowing that all of what you write about is out there. Your books help to give me an escape from the constraints of my life; they are a place where I can go and nobody from here can follow.
I look forward to Francis’s next adventure. The promise of new material is one that I welcome and I will be avidly checking the shop in the nearest town for a copy of his next endeavour.
Yours as ever,
Anonymous
Andrea put her pen down to scour over the words on the page. She was nowhere near as good at explaining herself as she hoped, but nevertheless, she sealed the letter and willed the author to receive it.
Being an anonymous fan of Dean Morris meant she could never be sure if he did indeed receive her letters. She left him with no address to write back to out of fear that someone would find the letters and work out it was her writing them.
It left Andrea to dream of what his reaction would be when he read over her words. Her intention, albeit a little selfish, was to encourage him to finish a new body of work so that she had more to read. Andrea knew she should perhaps not focus so much on one collection of books, but she could not help it.
The sky was beginning to fade to a muted purple as the sun set, and Andrea stared out of her bedroom window. She thought of all the months’ worth of letters that were somewhere out there, wondering what had become of them and what the author thought when he received them.
*
James Churchill shifted uncomfortably in the large drawing room of his parents’ estate. He had not been back in so long, and he knew exactly what his mother wanted to speak with him about: marriage.
“You should be lucky that your father is not here, but I think you already know his feelings on the matter,” his mother spoke whilst stirring a small spoon in her cup.
James let out a heavy sigh and bowed his head forward slightly, the action causing a few strands of hazel hair to fall in front of his brow. In one move, he had adjusted the loose curls by pushing them back with one hand.
“He has certainly made his feelings known.” James nodded, thinking about the urgent letters his father had sent him.“Is that why you requested I come all the way home?”
“We need a proper update on the situation.” His mother was being rather diplomatic, but James could only wonder how long that tone would last.
“Well, as I said in my letters, the Lady Andrea is proving quite difficult to gain any time with. Of course, I write to her. Sometimes she writes back, whenever I see her, she is rather pleasant with me, but—”
“But this all sounds like formalities,” his mother cut him off.“This sounds as though she is being polite with you.”
James—for the sake of his ego—had been trying not to think of it like that. He still had faith in his advances, hoping they would someday work.
