It is clear you are displeased with me, and truly I cannot fathom the reason why. Please reply to this letter with an explanation. I have wracked my brains to discover what I might have done, and nothing comes to mind. I do not want to offend or hurt you in any way, believe me. Any offence was purely unintentional on my part, and I would like to rectify it immediately.
My fear is that somebody has misrepresented me to you. We both know how vicious the gossips can be in London.
Please write back to me. It is odd that you have replied to none of my letters. My concern is that either you are choosing to ignore me out of a very great sense of hurt, or… well, or that you are not receiving my letters at all. I care for you greatly, Ursula. In fact, I believe I am falling in love with you. It would be too painful, I think, to understand my feelings at last only to have you wrenched away from me.
Write back, please, or better yet, come home.
All my Love and Affection, Your Husband,
Graham
He tossed the letter aside grimly, and stared at the table, set for breakfast. Two extra places had been laid out as a matter of course one for Ursula, and one for his mother. Both were empty. Margaret had not come down to breakfast yet.
She also had not left, or begun to pack her things, according to Richards. Graham had noticed this and was not pleased.
Mother has something to do with Ursula’s departure, I’m sure of it.
He glanced over at the breakfast spread once more and shuddered. Even the notion of eating made him feel nauseous. Rising from the table, Graham left the room at once.
He went into the parlour, not entirely sure what he was looking for. A clue, maybe? Ursula and Georgie had gone into the parlour, Richards had said, and soon after had rung the bell. Ruthie had gone to answer it, and moments later she was up in her mistress’ room, packing her things, white-faced.
Graham was glad, at least, that Ruthie had chosen to go with Ursula. A viscountess should never be without her ladies’ maid.
A flutter of paper on the floor caught his eye, and he bent to retrieve it. It was a letter, a crumpled one, discarded on the carpet. Another inch or two, and it would have been hidden underneath the sofa.
As soon as he picked it up, Graham recognized the handwriting. His blood turned cold.
My dearest, darling Graham.
I write to you with tears in my eyes. News has come to me that you intend to wed, or that you may already be wedded. How can this be? How can you break my heart in such a way?
I am undone. I confess, my dearest, that you have never left my thoughts. I trust I am forever in yours. The love we once shared was a most precious gift, and I regret my own foolishness in allowing my fears and doubts to part us.
Is it too late?
I can only hope not. I know in my heart that your love for me is as pure and fresh as it ever was, and I can assure you that mine for you is every bit as strong.
I will write my address at the bottom of this letter. I must confess, you will find me in a sad and cheerless place of residence in town without the benefit of society or any of the usual comforts of life. I know in my heart that you will come to me, and we will be together once again.
All my love, Your True Wife,
Jane
P.S. With tears in my eyes and on this very page, I must tell you that my esteemed Papa has departed, leaving me with his debts. I grieve day and night for him, and for you. Come to me quickly.
Graham stared down at the letter, sure that he must have misread it.
How dare she write to me with this letter? Jane told me, before we parted, that she could not love me the way I wanted. She took the money my mother offered me and disappeared, together with her scoundrel of a father. She only writes to me now out of desperation.
He hadn’t received the letter, however. It had been opened and clearly read, and had his name on the envelope, but he had not received it. Heart pounding, Graham checked the date, and his heart sank.
It would have arrived yesterday morning. The morning that Mother was at the breakfast table before me, and the post had already arrived.
He sunk down onto the sofa, numb. The reality of the matter was plain to him now. The letter from Jane was a cruel coincidence, a desperate attempt to seduce him back now that their money was gone and her father was deceased. His mother had taken the letter and had made it her mission to show it to Ursula.
How could I have been such a fool?
A sharp intake of breath caught his attention, and Graham glanced up sharply.
