“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, considering. “I don’t think he knows I was considering this step, but he might not be surprised when he thinks about 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.

Louisa sighed, and despite the freshness of her appearance, her eyes looked tired. “It’s the idea of being engaged, I think. At least, being engaged to him.”

She smiled ruefully, dropping her gaze to her fingers, which she began twisting together in her lap. “I suppose I ought to feel very fortunate, and I did at first. After all, I had come to London to meet someone just 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 marriage. 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 suppose I’d gotten used to being good at everything I put my hand to. I just 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.”

Her voice was hollow as she added, “It will probably get me the most attention I will have received since my come-out. An added bonus.”

“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. But for the most part, I was asking him questions about his library, and he was providing me with book titles and information about their condition. For the catalogue I was so excited about working on.”

She met Julia’s eyes. “That’s the romance of every girl’s dream, isn’t it? I suppose I should have tried harder to work things out, but inside I must have always known 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 fix it. “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, of course; 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 the older girl, 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.”

She smiled, hoping her expression warmed her voice so Louisa could hear it. “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 that quickly shuttered closed—“I am going to help you however I can. I’ve been selfish.”

Oh, God, how she had been selfish. Louisa must never know. 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 engage Louisa’s eyes, to bring warmth into her face, Julia grabbed her hands. “You are the dearest person in the world to me. Is there anything I can do to help you? I would do anything to help you find happiness.”

Louisa lifted her eyes, and fragile hope shivered in them. “I know. I know you would.”

She took a deep breath. “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, if no one else ever does. I don’t know what would make me happy, but at least I know what won’t.”

She smiled her self-deprecating half smile and began to look like herself again. The crisis seemed to be ebbing.

“Actually, there is something I would love you to do for me,” Louisa added.

“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 of course not in quite the same way. I know I should do this in person, but I can’t quite 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,” she finished ruefully.

“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.” Louisa’s expression was anxious.

“I really think you should do it yourself. You know, talk to him in person,” she coaxed.

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, nodded, and put what she hoped was a warm smile on her face. “Of course I will.”

Chapter 23. In Which the Second Letter Is More Significant