Page 167 of A Winter By the Sea
That could be good or bad, she realized. “Oh?”
She looked at him expectantly. When he did not explain, she glanced down at the pages on his desk, hoping to forestall her confession a bit longer.
“W-what are you working on?”
“I am reading an early copy of a new book. Not officially published yet.”
Heart twisting, Emily recognized the title on the unbound pages.Oh no.
“How did you get that?”
“The printer is a friend of mine. I send a lot of business his way. More than ... my competitors.”
“Mr. Wallis, I came here to tell you something. I hoped to tell you before you read it, but it appears I am too late.” She licked dry lips. “I am afraid I helped Mr. Marsh write that.”
For a moment he stared at her, expression inscrutable, while she held her breath.
Then he nodded curtly. “I thought so, but thank you for telling me.”
She tucked her chin in surprise. “How did you know? Did Mr. Marsh give it away?”
“No. You did.”
Surprise flashed through her once more. “I did?”
He nodded. “Or rather your words did.” He turned a few pages and read, “‘Bicton Church has a most pleasing and solemn appearance. The elegy of Gray must occur immediately to the mind of the spectator on contemplating its solitary and shadowy churchyard, thrown into twilight even at noon-day by the masses of impeding foliage.’ This is followed by a stanza of Gray’s poem.”
He looked up. “You cannot expect me to believe an uncultivated mercenary like Marsh wrote that.”
Emily ducked her head, feeling embarrassed, chastised, and flattered in equal measures.
“I’m curious,” he asked. “Why did you quote this particular stanza, when Thomas Gray himself cut it from later editions?”
Emily lifted one shoulder. “I did not wish it to be lost.”
Mr. Wallis slowly nodded, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Then the smile quickly faded.
He regarded her over the top of his small spectacles. “I confess I was far less pleased with the comparisons between Marsh’slibrary and my own. I thought you liked my humble establishment.”
“I did. I do!”
“Evidence to the contrary.” He flipped a few more pages and read, “‘The views from the Marine Library are good, but rather inferior to those from the library of Mr. Marsh. And Wallis’s shop furnishes a few books and newspapers; but labours under the disadvantages of confined space and accommodations. These considerations induced Mr. John Marsh to build a new most beautiful structure, combining the advantages of an uninterrupted view of the sea with an extensive library, furnished with every appropriate article of utility and fancy.’”
Her stomach knotted. “I did not write that. That is, some of those are my words but others have been changed. I did describe the pleasant situations and views of each library as well as their offerings, but Mr. Marsh edited the manuscript and made changes to flatter himself. I was as surprised and unhappy to read those revised sections as you no doubt were.”
He studied her expression as though for sincerity and nodded once again. “My just deserts for urging Mr. Butcher to praise my library to such a marked degree in his book. I suppose it is only natural Marsh would do the same. Turnabout is fair play and all that. I must say I am relieved to learn it was not thewriter’sintention to malign me, though perhaps a bit of revenge for my failure to aid in her own publishing aspirations?”
Emily shook her head. “Revenge never crossed my mind, I assure you. Though I admit I had never even entered Mr. Marsh’s establishment until after you rejected Mr. Gwilt’s story. I had been trying to find the courage to ask if I might edit or proofread for you, but I had no intention of asking you to read my novel, which isn’t even finished yet. When youmade it clear you were not interested in my work, I lost my nerve. So I went to Mr. Marsh instead.”
His brows rose in surprise. “If it was proofreading work or editing experience you wanted, I wish you would have asked me. I am weary of finding mistakes in my publications.”
“Really? I have noticed a few, but I doubted you’d want me to point them out.”
A corner of his mouth tipped up. “I would much prefer you to find mistakesbeforewe print a thousand copies rather than after, when there is precious little I can do about it.”
He hesitated, as if weighing what to say next, then began, “By the way, I would not expect to receive much work from John Marsh in future, nor a publishing offer. I have it on good authority that he is on the verge of bankruptcy.”
Emily gaped. “What? Oh no.”
