Julia was once again alone with the children.
As soon as she got them all inside again and occupied with schoolwork, she would read her letters. And she would go over in her mind every look on Nicholas Langdon’s face, every nuance in his eyes, until . . . until she had driven herself to distraction wondering what he was thinking.
Julia and the children came back in the house and set to work—or at least, Julia set to work trying to interest the children in setting to work—finding all their various leaves and flowers in the sketchbooks and color illustrations in the children’s schoolroom. After an hour of trying to keep the children occupied with this and their other studies, during which they either ran back and forth to the window, pulled each other’s hair, or otherwise fought with and distracted each other, their nurse came in and announced they were to have a holiday from studying for the rest of the day. Their mother wanted them all to take a bath and put on their best clothes and present themselves to the guests in the evening.
The children screamed and yelled “Hooray!” until Julia’s ears rang. But she slumped in relief at being given her own holiday. She was free to go read her letters.
She grabbed them from where she had placed them on the top shelf of the bookcase and hurried to her room. Closing herself inside, she crawled into bed, feeling cozy as she opened Leorah’s letter first.
Dearest Julia,
I cannot tell you how welcome your letter was to me. Thank you for writing, even though I am normally a very bad correspondent.
I cannot fathom why my addlepated brother has allowed you to become a governess. He should have forced you to come and stay with us. I don’t know why he concerns himself so much with propriety. But I shall not pain you with any more mentions of him.
I must say that I cannot believe what your Uncle Wilhern was about. I hope you do not mind that Nicholas has told me all, for I shall never repeat it. But to resign yourself to be a governess—you are too good and too talented and too wonderful a lady to be teaching a passel of brats to read and write and embroider cushions. You are much more of a lady than I will ever be, Julia, and I do not mind telling you that I look up to you as the model of sweetness and gentility. You must come to me as soon as you get a holiday. You must spend your time with me, and if those people, the Athertons, ever treat you badly, you must come and live with me. Mother and I are quite independent, and we do as we please. Father never prevents us from getting our way. But do not worry. I don’t let it go to my head.
You are no doubt shocked at my manner of speaking, Julia, as you are so much gentler than I have ever been, but you must take my advice and speak your mind more often. It is good for the soul, I assure you, to tell people exactly what you will and will not allow.
I am not a very accomplished letter writer, as you will have guessed by now, but my point was entirely to beg you to come and let me pamper you as my own dear friend just as soon as you are able. You are expected, Julia.
Your humble friend,
Leorah Langdon
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
During the reading of Leorah’s letter, Julia found herself gasping and chuckling by turns. Julia went back to read the beginning, where Leorah had said, I cannot fathom why my addlepated brother has allowed you to become a governess. He should have forced you to come and stay with us. I don’t know why he concerns himself so much with propriety.
Julia closed her eyes as the emotions overwhelmed her. Oh, the sight of him today, looking kind and handsome and attentive. Then he had been commandeered by Mrs. Tromburg. Had he gone with her because he was ashamed to be seen talking to a governess? Julia didn’t think so, but yet he did not refuse his former fiancée. Though she had not given him much choice in the matter.
Pulling out the second letter, this one from Sarah, she held them both against her cheek, breathing in their smell, no doubt the smell of Nicholas Langdon’s coat pocket, until she shook her head at her foolishness. Sighing, she opened Sarah’s letter and began to read.
Dear Julia,
You will not believe what I have to tell you, for I am married, to the most wonderful man in the world, John Wilson! You have met him, so I do not need to tell you how kind and good and handsome he is. We were married rather secretly two days ago with only his mother and sister to witness. Can you believe they are not ashamed of me? John will adopt the baby as his own when he or she is born, in about four more months. I cannot imagine why he loves me, but he does. It is a miracle.