Page 3 of Lady Charlotte and the Lending Library
The clouds parted, and the sun shone brightly upon the pavement around him. As the carriage rumbled away, he turned on his heel and strolled back to White’s, wondering if he would ever cross paths with the disguised young woman again. Secretly hoping he might.
Parliament was seated late this year, in February. The London season was upon the city and the ladies in the coach were most likely debutantes. He’d never been interested in the goings-on of the marriage mart, but now he found himself intrigued by one of this season’s debs, fascinated as to why a young lady of quality found it necessary to peek into the bow window of White’s.
Chapter Two
One day earlier
Thorne’s Lending Library in Berkeley Square was the favorite haunt of Charlotte, Louisa, and Edith. The trio of young ladies thought of the establishment as ‘their place.’ A haven where they could meet every week and discuss books, their families, and their individual interests. Interests which weren’t always activities the ton would look upon as befitting of a young lady’s notice.
Charlotte put aside the first volume of Ann Radcliffe’s The Mysteries of Udolpho as she found she couldn’t concentrate on the story. The tone of the novel was far too brooding. Her gaze wandered around the room.
She noted the library wasn’t as busy as she was accustomed to seeing. “There are few patrons this afternoon. The last fortnight has been uncommonly slow for the shop.”
“I think you may be right,” Edith replied with a frown, looking about her.
“Ackermann’s has included the color pink as one of this month’s fashionable colors,” Louisa remarked, her attention on the periodical in her hands. “I abhor pink.”
“Louisa, we are discussing the lack of custom recently in Thorne’s,” Charlotte responded with an exaggerated sigh.
The young women sat in a tiny alcove in the back left corner of the shop. The seating arrangements consisted of a plush sopha, a low round table, and two stuffed chairs.
“From all accounts, Hookham’s Library is the current fashionable spot for seeing and being seen,” Louisa said distractedly, not looking up from her copy of Ackermann’s Repository. Several issues of the periodical were scattered across the scarred mahogany table.
“Hookham’s?” Incredulous, Charlotte pursed her lips a moment. “What does Hookham’s have that our dear Thorne’s doesn’t?”
Louisa closed the magazine and settled it on her lap. Looking up, she asked, “Have you visited Hookham’s?”
“Only once.” Charlotte sniffed. “It is much too big. Thorne’s is cozy. We receive excellent service here.”
“Mr. Thorne is a pleasant enough man.” Edith added quietly, “Although Mrs. Thorne blows hot and cold.”
Charlotte had to admit Edith was right about Mrs. Thorne. While Mr. Thorne was all that was kind, Mrs. Thorne was often gruff and stand-offish.
“Mr. Thorne is a dear, but neither he nor his wife has the faintest idea how the shop should be furnished. Look closely at the sopha you’re seated on, Charlotte. The upholstery is not only worn, but it is also an exceedingly ugly color. Puce is no longer a fashionable hue for textiles.” Louisa waved a languid hand toward the front of the shop. “And the curtains at the front windows are neither new nor very stylish.”
She had to concede that Louisa made a good point. Her friend had exquisite taste when it came to fashion and decorations in the home. Charlotte had thought the furnishings quaint and cozy. Now she looked at the pieces with a fresh eye and had to admit they were not of the first stare of fashion.
Louisa sneezed. “The shop could also use a good dusting. That can only help with trade.”
“I’ve seen Medusa Library advertise in the papers,” Edith said thoughtfully. She was a devotee of the daily news sheets, her interests being current events and politics. “Perhaps Mr. Thorne should promote the shop.”
Charlotte got to her feet. “That is a splendid idea, Edith. I will suggest it to him right now.”
Louisa merely shrugged and reopened her periodical while Edith looked through the stack of newspapers on the table before her.
Mr. Thorne stood behind the sales desk on the right side of the room. His only clerk, Robbie, was usually posted at the subscription desk on the left side of the shop. The boy was nowhere in sight. Mrs. Thorne was frequently in the backroom as she was not easy with customers and chose to see to the bookkeeping.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Thorne,” she said brightly to the short, bespectacled man.
“Good afternoon, Lady Charlotte.” The shopkeeper nodded to her and smiled. “May I be of service?”
“Have you thought of promoting Thorne’s Lending Library in the papers?” she asked casually. “Lady Edith tells me Medusa advertises.”
A grimace wrinkled the man’s normally jovial features. “You’ve noticed our lack of customers recently.”
“I admit I did,” she replied awkwardly.
“Mrs. Thorne declares that we can scarcely afford to keep the library open. She will not approve expenditures for advertising.” He added despondently when she merely gaped at him, “It’s that bad it is, my lady.”
