London was overwhelming. That was the conclusion that Laurentia had come to within minutes of arriving in the city. There were just so many people and so many things to look at, and smell, and hear; she did not know where to start. And so she started with her bedroom ceiling. She was lying spread eagled on the bed, still dressed in her travelling clothes, her trunk by the door and her shoes wherever she had kicked them off; just staring at the ceiling.
The journey to London had taken longer than expected. There was a problem with the coach between Stoke-on-Trent and Birmingham, and then there were further delays due to poor weather. By the time they had made it to Royal Leamington Spa, the coach that was supposed to by behind them by a matter of days had caught up and transferred other passengers and mail. All in all, it was not a pleasant journey. Yet Laurentia was finally in London and so she could begin to relax. Her hostess, Lady Huntington had been more than kind upon her arrival, and insisted that Laurentia head straight upstairs to rest, while she went through her correspondence. So that is what Laurentia was doing, 'resting', though her mind was a whirl of activity. Maybe I will meet someone, someone tall, dark and handsome who will sweep me away to start a new life. It was in equal parts a pleasant and heartbreaking thought. She certainly wanted to be swept away, but not by a stranger. It will do you no good to think like that Laurentia; you are supposed to be looking to the future. It is time to give up on the past, and Cranford, and Mr. Carter and what might have been. You are not a young girl anymore; you cannot always get what you want. It is time to be realistic.
The harsh reality was though; that Laurentia was north of five and twenty, well past her marrying years as far as society was concerned. She was, put simply, a spinster. And who wants to marry a spinster? Nobody. The other harsh reality was that Laurentia had to marry. She had no choice if she were to move out of Cranford and sell her millinery shop, she had no one and no source of income, and so a husband was the only answer; a husband other than Mr. Carter.
A knock interrupted any further thoughts. "Come in," she croaked, wiping her eyes clear of any tears. Surprisingly it was Lady Huntington. "A letter for you dear, I thought I'd deliver it to you myself."
Laurentia straightened, "a letter?"
"Yes, yes. It must have come in on the last coach. The sender must have just missed you if it is here already. "
"Indeed they must have. Thank you my Lady."
"You are most welcome. Come down to dine when you are ready, or call a maid to fix a tray if you are too tired. We are terribly informal in this household."
Laurentia nodded absentmindedly, "I will, thank you."
With that, Lady Huntington closed the door behind her, leaving Laurentia alone with her thoughts once more.
She turned the envelope over and her breath got caught in her throat. It was from him. He had written to her. What does this mean? Has he written to tell her he was glad to hear that she had left? Should I throw it in the fire? Laurentia could not bare the thought, the letter may well be the last piece of correspondence she would ever receive from him, and so she stood up and walked over to her trunk, opened it, and dug to the very bottom. She left the letter at the bottom of the trunk, underneath all of her clothes. Out of sight, out of mind, she would ready it when she feels emotionally stronger.
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A touch over a week had passed with no word from Miss Galindo and Edward was starting to go mad. What more could he possibly say to convince her to return to him? In all honesty, probably nothing, he had behaved abysmally to her. Every nerve in his body was telling him to try and make the situation right, but he understood that this might be a situation that needed to be resolved on Miss Galindo's own terms. He decided that he would wait an hope that she would reply to him quickly.