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“Daisy, you told me that Mr Radcliffe had made no contact with you, did you not?” Bertha said, squeezing hold of Daisy’s hands as if she were desperate for her not to lie to her.
At the mere mention of the earl’s son, Daisy’s stomach clenched, her teeth gritted, and her heart skipped a beat.
“Do not talk of him!” she snapped at her sister, tugging her hands free from Bertha’s. The mention of him left her feeling drained and unsteady on her legs. “I do not wish to discuss him!”
She turned away, hiding her face from Bertha because the mention of him had instantly brought tears to her eyes.
“Daisy, you don’t understand,” Bertha protested, and her hand gripped Daisy’s forearm, trying to urge her back around. “I don’t mention him just to upset you. I have spoken with him.”
Daisy’s skin crawled at that, and she turned on Bertha, her eyes wide with shock. “What do you mean?”
“I … I was sneaking in from meeting Thomas,” Bertha explained, her cheeks reddening. “Mr Radcliffe was waiting for me beside the back gate.”
A lump formed in Daisy’s throat, and she pursed her lips to stop herself from saying something she might regret. She had no wish to know why Mr Radcliffe had been waiting for her stepsister; at least, that was what she told herself. She even began to shake her head. “I do not wish to …”
Yet before she could finish the sentence, Bertha reached into her dress pocket and pulled something from it, which she slipped into Daisy’s hand. Squeezing her fingers tightly around the envelope, Bertha explained, “Mr Radcliffe assured me that he had written to you every day since he left Oxford, and he has had no response from you.”
“But I wrote him several times,” Daisy protested, unable to understand. But Bertha quickly continued, “He said he hadn’t had a single letter from you, and he was concerned for you, and when he came to your window last night and you refused to speak to him he could think of nothing else to do but write you this,” Bertha explained, gesturing once more to the envelope that now sat in Daisy’s hand. “He did not trust it to reach you by any other means, so he was waiting for me to bring it to you.”
Daisy’s stomach clenched once more. A part of her wasn’t sure whether she should even consider reading it.Hasn’t he hurt me enough?she asked herself, though she quickly remembered the argument they’d had the night that he had promised to approach her father to request her hand and how they had both admitted never having received each other’s correspondence.
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” she protested, shaking her head, trying to give Bertha the envelope back. “If the letters weren’t reaching me, then where else would they be?”
Bertha shrugged her shoulders and pointed out, “Mama has been around on each post delivery time lately. Perhaps she has been …” the young woman broke off as if she didn’t like the thought of implicating her own mother, but Daisy had to agree that it was definitely a reason that made sense.
“But why would she do such a thing?” Daisy asked. Deep down she knew that her stepmother needed no other motive than the fact she liked to remain in power over everything that happened in and around the manor.
“That doesn’t matter right now,” Bertha protested with a shake of her head, “what matters now is that this one has got to you, and you should read it.”
Bertha gripped both of Daisy’s hands, clutching the letter between them and looking her deep in the eye as she said, “Don’t give up on him, Daisy. I believe he truly cares about you, and the look in his eyes when he mentioned your engagement was just devastating.”
Daisy’s stomach churned at the mention of her engagement; she was just as devastated as Bertha made Mr Radcliffe out to be whenever she thought about it.
“I will read it,” Daisy promised and drew her hands free of Bertha’s. Holding her breath, she turned her attention down to the envelope and saw her name written clearly in Mr Radcliffe’s hand on the front of it. Instinctively, her thumb rubbed over the front of it, and she imagined his hand stroking across the envelope just as it might have when he brushed a strand of hair from her face in the garden that night.
She could feel Bertha watching her, so she quickly recovered herself, breathing deeply as she broke the wax seal on the back of the envelope and pulled the paper from it. Then she began to read.
Dear Lady Daisy,
I fear something has gone awry between us. I have been concerned for you and have written many times but have never received any response. I do not know if you are aware of my recent departure from Oxford though I know you are well aware of my return.
I have been in the countryside at my father’s estate as he has been quite unwell, and although I was there to care for him, I have only been able to think of you and all that I promised you.
I was devastated to hear of your engagement and can only assume that you have either changed your mind towards me or you believe I have wronged you somehow, though I wish for you to believe me when I say that I wholly intended to ask your father for your hand.
I was preparing to leave my father’s estate to do just that when I learned of your engagement, and when I came to your bedroom window last night, it was to ask you not to marry Lord Bessington. I know it is foolish of me to ask it of you, but I could not live with myself if I did not at least try.
Upon returning to Oxford, after having been turned away at your door, I returned to my father’s townhouse to be told by his butler that you had tried to visit once during my time away. He said you looked confused at learning of my departure, and so I can only assume that my letters have not been reaching you.
Therefore, I am writing this and intend to await your sister, Bertha, for as long as it shall take to get it to you. I can only hope she will give it, and if she does, I wish you to know that my feelings and intentions towards you have not altered.
I must return now to the countryside to take care of some family matters, but I wish you to know that upon my return, should you wish me to, I shall approach your father as I always intended to.
For now, I leave you with the sincere knowledge that I am wholeheartedly sorry for any pain I may have caused you during my absence. Know that it has been heartbreaking not to see or speak with you for all this time.
All my love,
Philip
