“Of course not. Anyway, he has no fortune, he is a sensible man, and he would never desire me over you.” Julia tried to smile but felt the corners of her mouth trembling.
“Oh, Julia, I knew you could never want the man I love.” Phoebe sprang forward and threw her arms around Julia.
Her embrace caused a gnawing in Julia’s chest, and she barely returned the hug.
Julia pulled away. “Do something for me, Phoebe.”
“Of course.”
“Tell your father that you know there is nothing between Mr. Langdon and me, that you know I have no intentions of betraying you in any way, and that I will do anything I can to maneuver Mr. Langdon’s affections in your direction.”
“Oh, will you, Julia?”
“Of course.” Julia ignored the painful knot in her chest.
If Julia could not have a love of her own, at least she could see Phoebe happy. And Mr. Langdon would be her cousin, practically her brother, if he married Phoebe.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Julia took breakfast the next morning with her aunt and Phoebe. Her aunt said no more than was necessary, but Phoebe made a show of speaking with Julia as much as ever, no doubt to reassure Mrs. Wilhern that all was forgiven.
Forgiven. How could Julia help being a little resentful of her relatives for making her feel as if she had committed a sin by allowing herself to dance a second time at a ball with an eligible young man? How different things would be if Julia had a family who loved her as much as the Wilherns loved Phoebe.
But such thoughts would only make her bitter. It was perfectly right and fitting for parents to want the best for their daughter. They couldn’t be expected to care as much for a niece as for their own child.
A manservant entered the room and presented the morning’s post to Mrs. Wilhern. She shuffled through the letters and handed one to Phoebe and one to Julia.
Julia’s was from Sarah Peck. She had wondered if her friend was angry with her after Julia had reported what she had said to Mrs. Dinklage, destroying any hope of a marriage between Julia and Mr. Dinklage. She had also worried she had offended her friend by warning her against becoming so familiar with her employer’s oldest son.
Julia placed the letter in her pocket, quickly drank her tea, and hurried upstairs to read it. Once in her room, she sat by the window and unfolded it.
Dear Julia,
I am sorry I have been a bad correspondent of late. I must tell you that I hardly have any time of my own. When I am not teaching the older children, I am amusing the younger ones. I do not have a single friend in the household besides Mr. William, as the housekeeper is an irascible old complainer, and the other servants treat me as if I think I am better than they are. I confess, I do not crave their company either. And since William is away most of the time, I find myself wishing for a Julia to talk to, or a Phoebe, someone who neither looks down her nose at me, nor thinks me too high-minded—a companion to make my evenings less dreary.
Such is the life of a governess, Julia. You probably think I blame you for what you said to Mrs. Dinklage. I was rather dismayed at the way things ended for you and Mr. Dinklage, but I wish I had been there to hear you give that insufferable woman a rightfully earned set down. She deserved it, I have no doubt, for you are such an even-tempered, docile person, Julia. You are everything that is gentle and good, and you deserve the best of men.
Julia had to put the letter down for a moment and dry her eyes with her handkerchief. Docile. Yes, she had thought being docile and good and everything society dictated a young lady should be would gain her the love and favor of her aunt and uncle, and of a good man. She was realizing now that she quite possibly had got it all wrong.
She went on reading. At this point in the letter, the color of the ink was slightly different, the handwriting more hurried and messy.
Julia, since writing the above I have left the employ of the Smithermans. You will blame me, no doubt, for my weakness. In truth, I blame myself. I know I behaved foolishly. And now I fear I shall be ruined forever. Julia, I have run away with William to London, have given myself to him completely. And now I believe he has abandoned me, for he did not come back last evening, and I am alone, with very little money and nowhere to go.