Page 17 of Her Whole Heart
Elizabeth stepped silently back to the desk and counted out her coins. She had brought a bit for Gunter’s, where they had planned to visit next. If she put back one of her own books and did not order anything for tea, she would have enough. When Mr. Abernathy stepped back behind the desk with a warm apology for the interruption, she picked up the novel she had been waiting months to read. “I have decided I do not wish to purchase this one after all,” she said. She slid her payment across the surface, a guinea and five shillings, and watched as Mr. Abernathy’s brow creased. He glanced up at her, and she looked askance at the boy, then back at the clerk.
One side of his mouth curled up. “Very good, madam.” He wrapped up the books. “Will your man take them?”
Laramie nodded.
“Thank you, Mr. Abernathy. I will find Amelia,” Elizabeth said cheerfully. It felt wonderful to do something meaningful with her money, a gift to herself even more than the boy.
“Mr. Morris, I must ask your forgiveness,” Mr. Abernathy said as she stepped away and he pretended to peruse the books he had set to the side for the boy. “I seem to have miscalculated the cost. You were quite right. The books were only sixteen shillings.”
“Truly, sir?” little Mr. Morris asked. He sounded overjoyed, and Elizabeth blinked hard against the tears that threatened. She said a little prayer for his health and success, and then lifted her head just in time to smash her face into something hard and unyielding.
She stumbled back, stunned, and two strong arms reached out to steady her. Her hand flew up to her nose, the pain sharp but already fading.
“My apologies, madam.”
Elizabeth knew that voice. She released a huff and allowed her hand to drop as she stepped back. “Mr. Darcy,” she said.
Chapter Six
Darcy had entered Hatchard’s a quarter of an hour before. It was the first time he had left his house for anything beyond his club, the bank, and the solicitor since meeting with Lord Carlisle almost a fortnight before. If possible, he would have remained at Darcy House the rest of the season, but he had been lured out today, at a rather early hour, in the hopes of securing a new copy ofThe Lady of the Lake, his own having been pilfered by Fitz. Once inside Hatchard’s, he had allowed himself to be distracted by the many new volumes on the shelves, but the young boy’s dismay had carried across the floor of what was, at the moment, a nearly empty shop. He had listened to the conversation very carefully, hearing enough to understand that the lad required books for his schooling, and Darcy was about to motion to the clerk to put the shortfall on his account when his movement had been arrested by a familiar head of black curls atop a slender figure. His height allowed him to observe her as she handed back one book of three but left her entire payment and then some with the clerk.
The woman was a curious creature. According to his cousin, she had twenty-thousand pounds, but here she was, picking shillings out of herreticule like a miser. And yet she was not a miser at all, for she had handed one of her own books back to purchase a mathematics text for a schoolboy she did not know.
He liked to think that his sister Georgiana would have done the same. She was a sweet girl and sensitive to the plight of others. But she would not have been required to sacrifice a book she had selected in order to do it. Georgiana could use the Darcy account at nearly any establishment she might have a desire to visit. It would not have been an inconvenience in any way for her, not the way it apparently was for Miss Elizabeth. Yet she had handed the tome back without hesitation.
And now she had nearly knocked him over. Darcy was certain he detected vexation in her stance, thoughshewas to blame for their collision.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said. “Good morning.”
“I see you are also fond of Hatchard’s,” she said, though he had been so busy watching her interactions that he had yet to find the book he had come to seek.
“How do you know that I am fond of Hatchard’s?” he asked, just to see whether the spark of impertinence he had experienced from her the night of the Ashfords' ball had been unusual or was instead a part of her character. “I might have been sent here on behalf of one of my cousins.”
One slim eyebrow arched at his suggestion. “Do your cousins often use you as an errand boy?”
He shook his head, attempting to quell his sudden offence. “Of course not.”
Her nod was satisfied. “As I thought. You willingly sought out a bookshop this morning, likely in pursuit of something to add to your library. It may not mean that you are fond of this particular shop, I suppose. Are you like so many of the ton and come here only because it is well-known?”
Perhaps this had not been a good idea. Her impertinence was even sharper than it had been. “I come to this shop because it stocks books nearly as soon as they are printed.”
She nodded. “Thus, you prove my thesis, sir. You are an avid reader, for you must have the books that interest you as soon as they are available. And it follows, that if you are an avid reader, you would be fond of a good bookshop. Hatchard’s is a very good bookshop. Ergo, you are fond of Hatchard’s.”
How had she turned such a banal remark into a debate? She was exhausting, and he was done. “Indeed, you have found me out, madam.”
“Mr. Darcy,” Miss Hamilton called. “Good morning to you.”
He offered Miss Hamilton a bow, suddenly realising he had not done so for her friend.
“Elizabeth and I have been savouring the delights of a well-stocked bookshop this morning.” Indeed, she held several volumes in her hands. “If you are able to accompany us, we are for Gunter’s next.”
He almost offered a polite refusal, for he had not meant to remain out so long. But he had no pressing engagements, and the command of the earl could not be ignored when he had been in hiding since the Ashfords' ball. He was to be a friend to the quarrelsome Miss Elizabeth, and he supposed it was best to bow to his fate. Being invited by Miss Hamilton to join them for tea was innocent enough.
Darcy glanced over at the rather distinctive footman standing at the door, a man he recognized as belonging to the earl’s household, and who would certainly offer Lord Carlisle a report of his behaviour.
“I would be pleased to meet you there,” he said to Miss Hamilton. Movement in the street near the pavement caught his eye, and he noted that his carriage had returned for him. He would return to the shop some other time to seek his book. “Shall I travel ahead to secure a table?”
“That would be very kind of you, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Hamilton said politely. “We will not be long.”
