Page 47 of Lady Charlotte and the Lending Library
The watchmen wore long coats. The men he approached carried lanterns, although he’d heard some watchmen still used candles. He’d also heard the men carried a rattle to warn others of any threat to themselves or the populace.
“Mr. Hobbs, Mr. Potts!” He approached the men. “Might I have a word?”
The men halted their shuffle along the pavement. They turned as a duo, in sync. Two pairs of eyes assessed him.
“My name is Lord Ashford. I could use your assistance.”
“How may we be of service, my lord?” one man, the taller of the two, asked.
“I need some information about your territory, as it were.” He paused. “A friend of mine is concerned about the security of their shop.”
“I’m Mr. Hobbs,” the shorter man said as he doffed his hat. “What shop is it?”
“Thorne’s Lending Library,” he replied and observed both watchmen closely as he said the words.
Ashford could detect no undercurrents between the two men, no signs of worry that he’d asked about that particular business. Instinct told him the men had not taken a bribe from Landry.
Mr. Hobbs rubbed a hand over his unshaven chin. “We know the shop well. It is run by Mr. Thorne and his missus. Although he is a nice enough chap, his wife is a moody woman. They have help, a young man by the name of Robbie. Hard worker, the lad is.”
“Have you seen anyone loitering around the premises at night?” Ashford asked, again watchful for any signs of caution by the two men.
“Naught that I can recall.” Hobbs looked at his partner again. “Potts?”
The other man shook his head. “Nothing strange or out of the ordinary. Of course, that is a pleasant part of the city, you understand. More quality goes about in that area than anything else.”
“Was there a problem, my lord?” Hobbs asked. “Any complaints? The beadle hasn’t told us of any.”
Ashford replied with a nod, “Thorne’s trade has declined, and I'm concerned there might be some sabotage at play. Dead animals have been found in front of the shop before it opens in the morning.”
For an instant, both men looked at a loss for words.
“Sabotage! Not on our watch, my lord.” Potts puffed himself up and stood a little taller. “We will make sure to keep an eye out for trouble at Thorne’s.”
Hobbs looked affronted at Ashford’s words. “Dead animals? That is a cursed trick to play. We don’t brook with none of that nonsense on our watch.”
He believed the watchmen. They behaved as if they were proud of their work. He handed Mr. Potts his card and each of the men a guinea for their trouble.
“If you see or hear of anything that may be cause for concern near Thorne’s, contact me as soon as possible.” He smiled briefly. “I am relieved that two such conscientious gentlemen are on the watch.”
The two watchmen looked embarrassed at the praise, and both made ungainly bows as Ashford took his leave of them.
* * * * *
The next day Charlotte was relieved to see both Edith and Louisa at Thorne’s. Edith had spoken very little during the carriage ride home from Bishopsgate other than to say their outing had been a waste of time.
Charlotte wasn’t so sure. Perhaps Mr. Jacobsen would give pause and think about the type of man who wanted to buy property in Berkeley Square.
“At least Mr. Jacobsen doesn’t know who we are,” Louisa pointed out. “He may tell Mr. Landry of our interference. From all accounts, Mr. Landry is a dangerous man to cross.”
If Louisa had wanted to reassure Edith, she should not have mentioned how dangerous she believed Landry to be. Charlotte refrained from chastising Louisa about her unfortunate comments to both Edith and Mr. Jacobsen. It rarely did any good to point out Louisa’s lack of subtlety.
Although Edith was subdued in her greeting when Charlotte arrived at Thorne’s, Louisa happily reminded her of their task for the day.
Mrs. Thorne had approved setting up a table to exhibit female authors and allowed Charlotte and her friends to organize the display. Edith supplied a tablecloth with an embroidered edge for a small table situated near the center of the lending library. Charlotte arranged the books lovingly as Louisa observed with a critical eye.
“Emma up front?” Edith asked, her face softening. “Lovely! It is a favorite of mine.”
“And mine,” Charlotte replied. She added in a whisper, “Emma Woodhouse’s surfeit of pride puts me in mind of our good friend.”
