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MORNING SEEMED TO JULIA to dawn earlier and brighter than usual. When she awoke, her head felt heavy, and the sun glared into her eyes with unaccustomed harshness.
“Mmmph,” she groaned, holding her hand ineffectually in the path of the sun’s rays, and then putting a pillow over her face.
Ugh, she felt terrible this morning. She remembered James telling her she had drunk too much punch last night—was this what men felt like all the time after parties? Oh, her head pounded. She swallowed beneath the protective darkness of the pillow, trying to relieve the dryness of her mouth. She felt so tired. How had the ball at Alleyneham House gone last night? She couldn’t summon it to mind right now. She wished Louisa had been there so they could talk about the ball as they always did afterward.
Afterward . . .
She sat bolt upright, the pillow and the sun forgotten as she remembered what had happened after she drank the punch. And after the ball, in the carriage. The kisses, the touches . . . James had . . .
No, actually, she did not wish Louisa had been there last night.
She groaned again, clasping her head in her hands, and the pounding in her temples took on a new urgency. How could she have said those things to James? How could she have done those things with James? With James, who was going to marry Louisa?
Despite herself, she shivered to remember the carriage ride home. It all began to come back—what she had told him, and how he had kissed her and told her he loved her.
He loved her. James, who was going to marry Louisa.
Julia shook her head. This was not good. This was the complete opposite of good. She hated to think of it as a bad thing, that the man she loved returned her feelings, but—honestly, with him engaged to her sister, what else could she consider it?
And what should she do now? She couldn’t possibly tell Louisa; it would crush her. No, the best way she could reward her sister’s trust was never to break it again. Which meant she must ignore the knowledge that James loved her.
Was she really better off than before she had known?
“I have always been so, so stupid about him,” she mumbled to herself. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
A perfunctory knock sounded on her door, and Simone entered at once and dropped an equally perfunctory curtsy. “Good morning, mademoiselle,” she tossed over her shoulder as she began to tidy the post-ball clutter of clothes and hairpins around Julia’s room.
“No, it’s not a good morning, Simone,” Julia groaned. “And I’m not awake yet. Can you come back later?”
Simone continued tidying as if she had not heard. “I heard you talking; I knew that you were awake. I came in to arrange you before you speak to your sister. You should put on a dressing gown, too.”
Icy dread washed over Julia. “Why should I speak to Louisa?” Surely she couldn’t know anything. Could she?
“And why should you not? You go to a ball last night; she wants to hear about it.”
“She . . . wants to hear about it?” Julia repeated feebly.
The maid turned and stared at Julia with a gimlet eye. “Why should she not?” she pressed. Then, noticing Julia’s stricken expression, she relented.
“I saw you come in last night, mademoiselle. I helped you into your bed. I know that something happened that was not ordinary, but your sister does not know. And if you do not want her to know, you need to look your most normal, but in the best possible way. Neat and well clothed. The mind follows where the appearance leads.”
“That is so French,” Julia muttered, rolling her eyes. “Very well, what do you suggest? Not that you’re right about anything happening last night, but, you know, a lady always wants to look her best.”
“I will arrange your hair to be pretty, and you will put on a dressing gown,” Simone decided, retrieving the garment in question from the wardrobe.
“Louisa won’t care if I’m wearing a dressing gown,” Julia protested.
Simone looked sharply at the younger girl. “Does your sister know you better than anyone else? I think she does. You need to know what you will say to her, and you cannot do that if your hair is untidy and you wear no dressing gown. Come, I will repair you.”
She grimaced as she looked at Julia’s tangled hair, adding, “Mon Dieu, it would be better if we were to wait for this speech until you are dressed. But we need to be as normal, so this will have to do.” She stepped out of the bedchamber and Julia heard her ordering morning chocolate from a housemaid.
When Simone returned, Julia shut her eyes against the still-sharp morning light and passively allowed the Frenchwoman to minister to her. Once the chocolate arrived, she sipped at it as Simone’s deft fingers untangled her hair and her own mind whirled fruitlessly. What would she say to Louisa? She needed to act natural. But how could she possibly act natural after what she’d done? She was a terrible person.
In a few minutes, between the chocolate and Simone’s ministrations, Julia had to admit that she looked much better, even if she still had no idea what she would say to Louisa.
“You can thank me later, when your vocabulary has returned,” Simone said pertly before leaving the room. Would anyone but Aunt Estella have a servant more arrogant than half the ton?
Well, maybe it was for the best. Simone had at least distracted her. Now that she was alone again, she felt a sickness that had nothing to do with the aftermath of Freddie’s punch. How was she going to hide the truth from Louisa? She had never hidden anything from Louisa in all the years they had known each other.
Of course, it helped that she’d never had anything to hide before.
She allowed a feeling of despair to creep over her for one minute, but only one. Then with a supreme effort, she forced it down. Despair was self-indulgence. She mustered all her determination that Louisa should never know what she had done; it would hurt her sister too much.
And for her own part, she would never be tempted again. She would never speak to James again; she would never hide anything from Louisa again. She believed, and hoped, that she meant all these things, for Louisa deserved nothing less.
But she swore she could feel the heat of his hands on her skin, his lips on her lips. She let the pleasure of the memory wash over her for a second, then pushed it aside again.
At the thought of her sister—her loving, unknowing sister—part of the knot in her chest dissolved, and she was able to school her face carefully in preparation for Louisa’s entry. Even so, she jumped when the knock came on her door.
“Julia, can I come in? Simone said you were awake.”
“Thank you so much, Simone,” Julia grumbled.
At a normal volume, and in what she hoped was her normal voice, she added, “Yes, come in.”
Louisa came in, looking cool and elegant as usual in a morning dress of primrose muslin. She seated herself in a chair opposite Julia’s bed and regarded her expectantly. “So? How was the ball last night?”
Despite herself, Julia felt her face grow hot. “I had a very nice time.”
“I know you danced, because you always do,” Louisa said, smiling. “Who were your partners?”
“Sir Stephen Saville, and Freddie Pellington, and Mr. Cosgrove, and Mr. Milligan, and Lord Xavier, and . . .” Julia desperately tried to think of someone else, without mentioning his name. “Lord Alleyneham?” she finished weakly.
“Didn’t James ask you?” Louisa said with some surprise.
“Oh, yes, that’s right. I did dance with him, too,” Julia replied with forced nonchalance, feeling herself grow even redder.
Louisa seemed not to notice her discomfort. She fixed her gaze on the wall several feet to the right of Julia’s face, and said, “I’m glad you had a nice time. And I . . . believe it was for the best that I wasn’t with you. I didn’t really have a headache; I needed some time to think. I did a lot of thinking last night while you all were out.”
After the silence had spun out for almost a minute, Julia prodded. “What were you thinking about?”
“About . . .” Louisa trailed off, then collected herself and met Julia’s gaze. “Well, there’s no other way to say it except bluntly. I’ve decided to break my engagement.”
Julia didn’t have to feign her shock at all. “What? You are—what? Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m perfectly serious.”
“Does James know? Is it something he did? Or, er, that anyone else did?” Guilt washed over her, and she prayed that it wouldn’t show in her treacherous face.
Louisa frowned. “I don’t think he knows I was considering this step, but he might not be surprised by it. It’s certainly not because of anything that he did or didn’t do. He couldn’t be kinder to me.”
“Then why are you doing it?” Julia had to ask. The wash of guilt became an ocean.
Despite the freshness of Louisa’s appearance, her eyes looked tired. “It’s the idea of being engaged, I think. At least, being engaged to him.”
She dropped her gaze to her fingers, which she began twisting together in her lap. “I ought to feel fortunate, and I did at first. After all, I had come to London to meet someone like him, and get married, and become part of his world.”
She sighed heavily, seemingly from the very soles of her feet. “Julia, I can’t do it. I can’t go through another season, and I can’t go through with the wedding. I’m not ready; I don’t love him.”
Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. “You were right about courtship; it should be romantic. We had a business transaction, not an engagement, and that’s not what I want for myself. I don’t want a marriage of convenience, and I don’t want to be a viscountess, and I never, never want to come back to London again.”
She looked up at Julia, and Julia had never seen such pain in her sister’s eyes before. “Julia, I’ve failed. I failed our parents, and Aunt Estella, and I failed James, who is an honorable man.”
“What do you mean, you failed?” Julia’s face went white. Surely Louisa hadn’t . . . ? “Did you . . . ah . . . you know . . . with someone else?”
Louisa gave a sad half-smile. “Nothing like that. I just couldn’t do what they needed me to. I couldn’t be the carefree young miss who made everyone fall in love with her. I couldn’t be Evelina Anville, or Marianne Dashwood, or any of the other enchanting young women we used to read about. I couldn’t become a part of this glittering, busy world. I could barely even speak to people.
“Every time I went to a party, I thought, this time it will be different. I know how to act, I know who these people are, I know what they want from me. All I need to do is smile and speak. That’s all. But I could never do it, and people stopped noticing me.”
“Oh, Louisa,” Julia said softly. “I had no idea you had felt that way.”
“I was ashamed; I didn’t want to tell anyone,” Louisa admitted. “I’d become used to being good at everything I put my hand to. I didn’t realize I’d never tried anything I didn’t have an inclination for. I’d never been away from everyone I loved. It was a desperate feeling, and when James asked me to marry him, I thought—yes, this is it; this is my way out of this desolate situation.”
Julia’s throat closed; all she could do was nod her understanding as Louisa continued.
“But it wasn’t a way out. Do you see? Life with him would be the same world. Maybe not all the time, but every year he would want to come back to London. He knows this world, and he’s comfortable in it, and I never can be.”
Louisa shook her head. “He’s a kind man, and he wants a true companion in his wife. And he deserves to have that. I couldn’t make him happy in marriage, and he couldn’t make me happy. I know I’ll be branded a jilt because of this, but I think it is the only thing to do.”
“But you wrote so many letters to him when you were apart during the autumn, and they seemed to make you very happy. Didn’t that help?” Julia pressed.
Louisa’s smile was mirthless and swift. “Those letters were my favorite part of our engagement. I was asking him questions about his library, and he was providing me with book titles and information on their condition. For the catalogue I was so excited to work on.”
She met Julia’s eyes. “That’s the romance of every girl’s dream, isn’t it? Maybe I should have tried harder to be the person I’d promised to be, but inside I always knew I hadn’t made the right choice.”
Tears pricked at Julia’s eyes as she realized the depth of her sister’s discouragement. Surely she could have made this better. She, who knew Louisa better than anyone, should have known something was wrong and done something to help. “Louisa, I am so sorry. I neglected you once we got here, in my own excitement. I didn’t realize how you felt. I’m so ashamed of myself.”
Fleetingly, she thought of James, and her sense of shame deepened. There was no more she could say. Except—“What would make you happy? What can I do to help you?”
Louisa twisted her hands again. “I really don’t know. I always wanted more than our life at Stonemeadows. I never could resist all the books in which an insignificant country girl like me found happiness and wealth by going to London and making an excellent match. But when I got the life those book girls wanted, I didn’t want that either. It was so alien to me.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Maybe I’m not fit for either of those worlds.”
“Don’t say that,” Julia said, wrung at the sight of her elegant, proud sister brought to such a level of dejection.
What could she say? How could she comfort this girl she thought she had known so well, who had hidden such misery? Julia remembered hints; Louisa had spoken of her loneliness in London. But Julia had not known the sadness went so deep or back so far, that Louisa hadn’t felt happy for so long.
She got up from the bed and went around Louisa’s chair to wrap her arms around her sister where she sat.
“You’re fit for anywhere you want to be,” she insisted. “You’re the finest person I know.”
Still hugging her sister, she rested her chin on Louisa’s head and continued, “You came back to London for my sake, and I can never thank you enough. It gave me advantages you didn’t have. You brought our home with you, and I never had to feel alone as you did. I’ve never had to do anything without you since we met as children, except for the year you were in London alone—but then I was safe at home with everyone else.
“You came back here for me, and it has made all the difference to my season. You and James helped me feel comfortable right from the beginning. And now”—she straightened up and moved around the chair to face Louisa, who looked up at her with bleak eyes—“I am going to help you however I can. I’ve been selfish.”
Oh, God, how she had been selfish. A guilty memory of James, smiling at her with love, flashed into her mind and she ruthlessly suppressed it. She repeated, “Yes, I’ve been selfish. I came to London to enjoy myself, and I never thought of what it was costing you to be here.”
Desperate to cheer Louisa, Julia grabbed her hands. “You are the dearest person in the world to me. Is there anything I can do? I would do anything to help you find happiness.”
Louisa lifted her gaze; fragile hope shivered in it. “I know. I know you would. I didn’t mean to tell you all this. I meant to come in and ask you about the party, and perhaps say something about my engagement.”
Warmth was flickering back into her expression as she went on. “But I couldn’t go on without telling you. I finally had to tell someone how I really felt. It’s the only secret I’ve ever kept from you. I hadn’t wanted to say anything, because I so wanted you to be happy.”
“I have been,” Julia rushed to assure her. “You helped make it so.”
“Well, I’m glad you know the whole truth, even if no one else ever does. I don’t know what would make me happy, but at least I know what won’t.”
She offered a wry half smile and began to look like herself again. “Actually, there is something I would love you to do for me.”
“Anything. Anything at all.”
Louisa looked embarrassed. “Could you send for James and give him a letter for me? It will tell him everything I’ve told you, though not in quite the same way. I know I should do this in person, but I can’t yet bring myself to face him after all his kindness. And perhaps by being there, in case he’s shocked, you could be a comfort to him, or help to explain things. There may be no way around it, but I would not want him to think ill of me. At least, no more than necessary.”
“Give a letter? And talk to James? For you?” Julia repeated, trying to wrap her mind around the idea. It sounded like a very, very bad one.
“Yes, could you? As soon as possible.”
“I really think you should do it yourself. You know, talk to him in person.”
Louisa shook her head vehemently. “It must be this letter. It says exactly what I want to say. There’s no way I could do that in person. I’d probably lose my courage and wind up setting the wedding date instead of calling the whole thing off.”
Her eyes beseeched Julia. “Will you please do this? For me?”
Julia gulped, then pasted what she hoped was a warm smile on her face. “Of course I will.”