Page 24 of The Curious Story of the Missing Lady
“What do you mean?”
“I mean ... where’ll you go? Once the ransom money comes.”
She raised her chin, her gaze long. “I’ve fancied Scotland since I was a girl. There are many areas there in which a Lady of means might sequester herself and live in peace and free of concern.”
He nodded slowly.
“Why do you concern yourself with me?”
“Oh,” he said, caught off guard, “I was just curious, is all.”
“Right.” She looked at him with distrust.
“Nothing by it, M’Lady.” He thought it best to change the subject. “Er, M’Lady, I was wondering about the books, since you brought them up?”
“What about them?”
“The last one you chose for, uh, thewretch– what was it?”
She shook her head frustratedly. “I don’t know.The Castle of Otranto, perhaps?”
“Huh.”
“What’s it to you?” she said. “You can’t read them anyway.”
“Oh, no, M’Lady, and I have no interest. But I thought, well, perhaps I’d like to know what these tales are about. I can’t concern myself with reading them outright, but that don’t mean I can’t enjoy a good tale to occupy my thoughts while on long journeys and such.”
She dried her hands on a cloth and threw it onto the table. “Come then.” She beckoned him to follow her to the bookshelf.
There were about twenty volumes of varying widths and heights, and of only three or four different colours. Garret often went and smelled them when she wasn’t aware of his doing so, feeling as though there was no wisdom in depriving any of his other senses of the joy that other people found in books.
“This one here,” she said, pulling out a rather thick volume compared to the others, “is calledThe History of Tom Jones, a Foundling. It’s by Mr Henry Fielding. This is Volume One of Four. The hero, a bastard child, endures many adventures. He rescues the daughter of a squire and breaks his arm. He then confesses his love for her. The father opposes it, of course, with Tom being a bastard. At any rate, there’s much more to it. It’s about human nature. A lot to learn from this one. This one here ...” she extracted another volume and squinted at the spine, then opened to the title page. “Ah yes,The Life and Strange Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe of Tork, Mariner: who lived eight and twenty years alone in an uninhabited island on the coast of America, near the mouth of the great river of Oronoque; having been cast on shore by shipwreck, wherein all the men perished but himself. With an account of how he was at last strangely delivered by pirates.” She chuckled, still beholding the page. “Well, there’s not much more to it than that.”
“Ah, I suppose not. Well, M’Lady, that’s certainly a help. I shall carry those tales with me.”
“You should learn to read, Mr Garret. I think it would do you well.”
“Oh,” he said with a smile, “I said I have not the time, and I mean it. Those tales what you told me just now will suffice for a spell, I’m sure.”
“Right,” said Lady Elizabeth. “Well, now you got me talking and I’ve not minded the time. I believe you ought to take the wretch up a plate of food.”
“Yes, M’Lady,” he said with a bow.
Chapter 17
Lady Madeline was awakened by the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door. The deadbolt slid, and the door creaked open. There was Garret with a tray, which he then placed on the table. He reached under his arms and took out something. It was a book. He laid this down next to the tray. Next, he reached into his pocket and fumbled out a candle, a cheap holder, and a small, plain tinderbox.
“There,” he began, his voice faltering. He cleared it with a massive, wet sound. “There’s a couple of brimstone spunks in there, along with flint and steel. You know how to use ’em?”
“I do.”
He nodded. “Good.” His eyes went uneasily back and forth between the book and the girl below him. “This, uh, this is ...” he thought for a moment, then slapped his side hard. “I can’t remember the title. At any rate, it’s the story about a man shipwrecked on an island. I don’t see any room on a deserted island for ghosts or anything that would frighten a girl in the night.”
A smile tugged at her mouth. “Thank you, Mr Garret. That sounds like the story of Robinson Crusoe.”
“That’s it,” he said. “That’s the bloke.” For a moment, his mouth moved without sound. “I thought, well, you’re in a situation here and ... well, this bloke here is, what do you call it, stranded ...”
“You need not say more,” said Madeline. “That was very thoughtful of you, Mr Garret.”
