Page 57 of Charmless
“I am very skilled with a needle. I will cut up my ballgown and sew us all the most elegant sacks to put over our heads.”
“Wicked teasing girl,” Em grumbled, but her lips tilted in a reluctant smile.
“Now I want you to go up to your room and write Lord Redmond a charming note,” I said. “Tell him how much you regret your misunderstanding. Invite the man to tea.”
“What if he does not wish to come?” Em asked anxiously. “I was so very cross with him.”
“He will come. I’ll wager he is as unhappy about this foolish quarrel as you are,” I said as I escorted her to the door. When she attempted another protest, I silenced her with a kiss on her cheek. “Go do it, Em. Or I vow I will write the letter for you and send it myself.”
After I succeeded in urging her out the door, I expelled a deep breath, silently cursing Prince Florian. How much more havoc would that man wreak in my life before I could be rid of him?
As soon as I cleared away the breakfast dishes, I headed straight for the library. This room had always been as much of a refuge for me as it had been for my father. But as I closed the door behind me and looked around at all those book-lined shelves, I felt daunted. Could there be anything more overwhelming than mounting a search for something that there was only the slimmest likelihood of finding?
But I had promised Mal that I would try, so I shoved back my sleeves and began. I started with Papa’s writing desk, even though I was thoroughly familiar with its contents. When my father had died and named me as his executor, I had been obliged to sort through all his account books and legal papers. But I combed through the desk again, tapping on drawers, even examining the ornate legs in case there was some secret hiding place I had missed. There was not.
That only left the books. The hundreds and hundreds of books. For the first time in my life, I wished Papa had not been such a prolific reader. I kneeled and began my search on one of the lower shelves, planning to work my way up.
I pulled out book after book, rifling through pages, shaking each volume to dislodge any paper that might be hidden between the leaves. My search was hampered when I stumbled across some favorite passage. I would become distracted and start to read, until I reminded myself of what I was supposed to be doing.
I wasted nearly an hour in this fashion without discovering anything beyond the fact my library shelves needed cleaning. Searching in this random way would take me forever. Rocking back on my heels, I dusted off my hands, wracking my brain for a more logical approach.
If my father had secreted something inside a book, which one would he have chosen? One of his favorites that he kept close at hand near his wing back chair? The problem with that theory was those books were my favorites too. I had read them as often as my father did. If he was going to hide something, it would make more sense that he would select a book he seldom read, one that he even disliked. One candidate leapt readily to my mind.
The ‘sack witches’book.
As a child, I had thought the book looked dull and uninteresting. Too many big words and no pictures of any kind. I was surprised to discover that my father felt the same way.
“If you don’t like the book, why don’t you just burn it up in the fireplace, Papa?”I remembered asking.
“Because that would be sacrilege.”
“Sack witches?”I had echoed, puzzled.
My father’s lips twitched. He seldom smiled after my mother died, but he did so then.
“It means that I think it wrong to destroy any book, especially one that was a gift from a friend.”
Could that friend have been Hiram Hawkridge? Was it possible that this search was not so futile after all?
I scrambled to my feet, scanning the shelves with new interest. As a little girl, I had thought of that volume as the ‘sack witches’ book. I did not remember its title. I had only a vague recollection that the book was some sort of history.
I concentrated my search on the upper shelves where Papa’s least favorite books had been consigned. Moving the library step ladder from stack to stack, I finally found it. The thick ancient volume was crammed between taller books so that it was all but obscured from view. This had to be it, the ‘sack witches’ book. Its title was as ponderous as the tome itself.
The One Complete and True History of the Most Noble Kingdom of Arcady.
It was stuck between the other books so tightly, I had to tug hard to pull it free. I dislodged a cloud of dust, sending me off into a sneezing fit. I dropped the book, clutching at the bookcase to keep myself from falling as well. As soon as I recovered, I used the back of my hand to dash the moisture from my watery eyes.
I blinked hard. I do not know whether it was finding the ‘sack witches’ book or perhaps the violent sneeze. Something jarred loose in my brain, the return of that elusive memory I had had when I was with Mal in the garden last night. A childhood memory long forgotten.
I had a habit of creeping out of bed at night after my stepmother and sisters were asleep. I would sneak downstairs to the library where I knew my father would be settled in his chair by the hearth, reading. By crawling on my hands and knees, I was able to escape detection. I would hide behind his chair, selecting a book of my own, while congratulating myself on being so stealthy and clever. I have realized since then that my father must have been quite aware of my presence but chose to indulge my misbehavior.
But one night, something very different occurred. When I inched open the library door to peek inside, I discovered myfather was not alone. Someone had been with him… Mal’s grandfather! My father had appeared agitated and?—
My mind threatened to cloud over again. I gripped the stepladder hard, fighting my way through the fog to retrieve the memory of Papa’s voice.
“No, Hiram! My beloved Cecily is gone. I will not risk endangering Ella or my new wife and daughters by proceeding any further.”
“We are all taking risks, Julius,” Mr. Hawkridge replied. “If you?—”
