Page 16 of Her Whole Heart
“You are welcome, sir. Miss Loughty, may I introduce you to my friend Mr. Bingley?”
Drops of rain trickled haphazardly down the glass as Elizabeth watched the press of humanity outside the carriage. It reminded her of the Carutherses' ball, and then the surprised pleasure on Miss Loughty’s countenance when Mr. Bingley had left them to speak to a friend, then returned with two glasses of punch and invited her to the floor for the next set. She had been asked to dance by two other men after that.
Elizabeth was still surprised by how long it took to travel anywhere in London. With so many people on the pavement and the streets clogged with horses, carts, and coaches, it took at least twice as long to ride than it would to walk the same distance in the country. Unfortunately, the rougher neighbourhoods rubbed right up against more respectable addresses here in town—a lady was not safe walking alone. Evenin the parks, one required a male escort to discourage unwanted advances. It was wearisome.
“You have been very patient, Lizzy,” Amelia said cheerfully. “I know you have wanted to visit Hatchard’s since you first arrived.”
“I have not been patient,” Elizabeth said with a self-conscious laugh, “but today I am to be rewarded, nonetheless. Not a proper lesson for me, I am afraid.” She turned to face Amelia. “However, itisthe perfect outing for a rainy afternoon.”
“I am so sorry Jane was unable to join us,” Amelia said.
Jane had caught a little cold but was well enough to insist that Elizabeth not delay her trip to the bookshop on her account.
Amelia smiled. “Well, we shall find her a little something to cheer her.”
Elizabeth smiled at her friend. Amelia was a genuinely kind person. “Jane would enjoy that.”
When they arrived at the shop, she could scarcely wait for the steps to be placed and an umbrella raised before she descended from the coach and hurried inside. Amelia was just behind her, and Laramie, one of the footmen who often accompanied them on their outings, trudged into the shop with them. Laramie was in his late thirties, a former sailor who had certainly not been offered his position for his unusual height or elegant bearing. He was built like a carronade and spoke with a faint burr. Elizabeth was very fond of him.
He nodded at her and Amelia, which meant they were to wait for him at the front of the shop until he said otherwise. Elizabeth had said she was impatient, and she meant it. The books wereso close. The clerk watched them with a vague sort of curiosity as Elizabeth attempted to read the titles on the long shelves of books nearest her from where she stood.
Papa had allowed Elizabeth and Jane to read most of his books, and he had been willing to answer Elizabeth’s questions and engage her inconversation, his one concession to improving her education. Elizabeth’s time in her father’s book room was a memory she cherished, for they had felt closer when they read together.
Laramie finally returned to take up his post near the door. That was their signal that it was safe to proceed.
Elizabeth was happy not to be the niece of an earl, for the simplest sort of activity seemed to require a great deal of advance planning. She could not imagine anyone lying in wait for two young women among the shelves of books, but then, the world was a strange, unpredictable place, and as Lord and Lady Carlisle’s guest, she was certainly not going to protest their arrangements. Moreover, she was certainly not going to waste any of her time at Hatchard’s concerning herself with it. Instead, she plunged into the shop with abandon, Amelia giggling as she followed.
They had spent three-quarters of an hour perusing each shelf before Elizabeth checked her watch to see their time was nearly gone. She reluctantly gathered three books—a slim volume of poetry for Jane and two books for herself, one novel and one history—and made her way to the front of the shop. Amelia had remained in the section with the new novels, but Elizabeth would collect her after she had completed her purchase.
“I am happy to add this to the account for Carlisle House,” the man said, glancing suspiciously at her coin purse.
“Oh, not for such a small purchase as this,” Elizabeth said loftily, though no purchase in London was a small one for her, and books were especially dear. She simply did not want to risk the earl satisfying her debt. Jane accepted whatever the Carlisles wished to do with her usual grace, but Elizabeth was concerned the earl and countess would eventually tire of paying for them, and she did not wish to be thought a burden. It might be silly, but she relished the freedom of a few coins to spend just as she pleased.
“Very good, miss,” he said.
“Mr. Abernathy,” a small voice asked from Elizabeth’s right. The boy bowed. “I have come for my books.”
“Ah, Mr. Morris,” the clerk said with a hint of a smile. “Wait a moment while I help this young lady, and then I shall be happy to assist. It was six books and came to one pound six.”
“One pound six?” The boy’s face paled. “But I thought they were only to be sixteen shillings.”
Mr. Abernathy frowned. “Will you pardon me for a moment, miss?”
“Of course,” Elizabeth assured him.
When the pair walked to another corner in the shop, Elizabeth took a few steps in their direction. She knew it was unladylike to eavesdrop, but the boy seemed so distressed over not being able to purchase his books that she longed to help if she could.
“We are already providing the books to you for what they cost us,” Mr. Abernathy was saying gently. “I cannot lower the price, or the shop would lose money.”
“No, sir, of course,” Mr. Morris said stoutly. He lifted his little chin, and Elizabeth’s heart lurched in her chest. He could not be more than ten or eleven, and his clothes were mended many times over at the elbows and knees. Yet he was saving for books.
“Let us see which books you can afford to purchase now. The mathematics book is the most expensive, perhaps you might leave that one and the primer here? I will hold them aside for you until you can pay, but in the meantime, one of the other boys might be willing to share.”
“I am already meant to share with my brother, sir.”
He was trying to raise himself and his family in the world, just as she and Jane were. He needed the books to doso.
“However,” the boy said, pulling himself up as tall as he could, “that is not your concern. I am very grateful to you for agreeing to sell me the books at your own cost and will purchase what I am able.”
