Chapter 4

Chapter 4

“How can all of the copies already be taken?” Henry frowned at the young girl behind the counter at the Evergreen.

It never took more than a few days for the books to come in once he’d enquired. A week at most, but never more than that. It was one of the reasons he frequented the Evergreen.

The young girl with doe-like eyes and pale skin gave him an apologetic look. “I have checked a few times, but the ledger says that we do not currently have any copies of the book. They have all been checked out.”

Running his tongue over his bottom lip in frustration, Henry proceeded to take a deep breath. His morning had started well enough when he’d ignored an invitation from Alfred Hampton. He’d been looking forward to fetching the new novel and starting it in the shop. Ignoring social interactions wasn’t nearly as fun if he didn’t have the book he wanted.

“I wish I could give you an answer, but I’m afraid that only my uncle will be able to tell you what happened, and he is out at the moment. He will be back later this afternoon if you wish to come by again.” She looked a little panicked when Henry grew increasingly annoyed.

“No, it is quite all right. I will purchase the book instead.” He grumbled a farewell before making his way from the store.

Who could possibly want all the copies?

He placed his hands behind his back and started down the road, headed towards one of the better-known booksellers in London. Although the situation struck him as odd, he made his peace with the fact that he could purchase a copy of his own. The morning was still salvageable, even if it wasn’t perfect.

Mr Charleston would certainly not object to him reading a book at the Evergreen, even if he had purchased it somewhere else. After all, he had been a loyal patron for many years since his wife had died.

Entering the bookseller after a few minutes of walking, he greeted the man behind the counter and provided the name of the book he was after. The man scurried away and came back after a few moments.

“What do you mean that you have sold every copy you had? Is there some kind of book shortage in London that I am not aware of?” He grew increasingly impatient as he strummed the tips of his fingers on the counter.

The tall man with a thin frame and large nose cowered slightly at his words. “I do apologize, My Lord, but I have checked twice. The books in question were all purchased yesterday. We won’t be receiving another batch for a few weeks.”

Tilting his head in confusion, Henry began to wonder if he wasn’t going mad. The kinds of novels that he liked to read weren’t exactly popular. The fact that nobody else seemed to like them had been one of the selling points for him. That and the fact that he actually enjoyed them.

“Very well, I suppose there is nothing else to be done. I will just have to go and look elsewhere.” He nodded a curt goodbye and left the shop.

At least it cannot happen a third time.

He reassured himself that the worst hurdles of the day had been conquered. It was strange to find the book out of stock at the Evergreen, and even stranger to find it missing at a seller. The likelihood of it being sold out at a second seller was damn near impossible.

Entering one of the smaller sellers down the street, he strode right up to the counter and provided the name of the book without hesitation.

“I am sorry, My Lord, but all the copies we had have been sold.” A plump woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties offered him an apologetic smile. Her short, red curls had been pinned to the back of her head in an elaborate style that added to her overall plumpness.

“What do you mean that you have sold all the copies? Have I suddenly become the victim of some grand jest?” He looked at her incredulously and shook his head. In all his years of becoming a social recluse, nothing like this had ever happened to him before.

The woman behind the counter seemed to have a little more gumption than the others as she stood her ground. “I am not sure what you are referring to, My Lord, but I can assure you that I am not aware of it.” She stared him down until he began to feel guilty for his outburst.

He lowered his tone to a more respectful volume. “Do you happen to recall who purchased all of the books?”

She seemed thoughtful for a moment as she stared into the distance. “A woman, a spinster of sorts. She said she was thinking of starting a book club or something like that. I did find it odd, but who am I to question a customer when they are paying?” She shrugged, lifting her shoulders almost to the height of her ears.

“Indeed, it would not be proper at all to ask too many questions.” He held her gaze for a moment as he cursed the old bat, whomever she was. He pictured an elderly woman in a shawl with a hunched back, someone who hailed herself the guardian of her family’s meagre collection. It had to be someone with the means to purchase books in bulk.

“May I suggest Ben and Teller’s down the street? They are the largest booksellers that I know of in London. If they do not have any, then I am afraid you will have to wait until we get more.”

Taking a deep breath, he composed himself. “Thank you for your time. I think I will pay a visit to Ben and Teller’s.”

“Good luck, My Lord.” The woman nodded curtly while her eyes betrayed that she didn’t wish him any luck at all.

What does a man have to do for a book?

He shook his head in displeasure and headed down the street to one of London’s largest and best-known booksellers. The woman hadn’t been very sympathetic but had been right about his chances. If the books were not on their shelves, then none were left in London.

The thought served to heighten his anger as he practically fumed with displeasure.

Hurrying towards the shop on the bustling street, he lost his breath just as he came to the door, taking a moment to compose himself before barging into the shop.

A large bell announced his presence as he stepped into the larger, far busier establishment. He wasted no time in pushing his way towards the counter and providing the man with the title.

“I’m sorry, My Lord, but I am afraid I sold quite a few copies just yesterday,” the young man, who looked to be in his early twenties, informed him with a bright smile as if the news brought him a great deal of pleasure.

Of course, he would be happy to have made a sale.

“May I ask if an elderly spinster purchased the books?” Henry’s patience began to wear thin as he fumed at the ears.

The young man’s light brown eyes seemed thoughtful for a moment while he tapped his lower lip. “It was a lady who looked as if she could have been a spinster, but she was by no means old. At least I would not describe her as old.”

The answer struck him as odd, as his brow creased into a frown. “Can you provide me with a description or perhaps even a name?”

“I do not recall her name, but she was a younger woman with dark eyes and brown hair. I can’t say that she stood out in any other way, but she did seem a bit on the thinner side.” He drew his mouth to the side in a thoughtful expression as his hand dropped to his side.

A sudden swish of light green fabric flashed across his mind, catching him off guard.

It can’t be.

“Did she happen to look as if she were too thin to be a lady, almost as if she were impersonating someone of status and wealth?”

“Yes, that is exactly how I would describe her.” The man nodded enthusiastically. “Although, I wouldn’t exactly say that she was impersonating a lady. The way she carried herself and spoke definitely hinted at a proper upbringing.”

Just maybe …

A strange idea began to form at the back of his mind. The possibility was slim, but it was certainly there.

“Thank you for your time.” He bade the man behind the counter farewell and headed out the door. If anyone could confirm his suspicions, then it was Mr Charleston himself.

Retracing his steps from the entire morning, Henry headed straight back to the Evergreen shop. The sun was low enough in the sky for the man to have returned from whatever errands kept him busy.

It took him almost an hour before he reached his destination once more and entered the shop like a grumbling bear with a sore foot.

“Good afternoon, My Lord. I heard you were in here earlier looking for a copy of that novel. I am afraid I won’t be able to order another for quite some time,” Mr Charleston spoke apologetically as he looked up from his ledger.

Waving the apology away, Henry stalked right up to the counter. “May I ask if the person who ordered the novels was a Miss Sutton?” He cut straight to the point.

The man seemed taken aback but answered the question, nonetheless. “Yes, Miss Isabelle Sutton. She said she was thinking of starting a book club of sorts. Do you know her? She mentioned that you may have been an old acquaintance of hers. I did try and keep a copy for you when she came back, but she was most insistent on having them all.”

“Yes, we have met,” he answered curtly before clenching his jaw and pursing his lips.

Angry eyes flashed across his mind as he recalled the look of resentment she had given him from the carriage. He would never have guessed it, but it seemed as if she had somehow launched a grand scheme of vengeance against him.

“Would you like me to let the young lady know you were looking for her? She does come in here quite frequently, usually during the mornings.” Mr Charles offered the information freely.

“Does she now?” A sudden idea began to form in his mind. If she wanted to play dirty, then he would be more than happy to oblige her in her little game.

Mr Charleston nodded. “Twice if not three times a week.”

“And does she get a new book each time she comes in?” Henry drew his lower lip between his teeth before letting it go and smiling.

“I would certainly say so.” Mr Charleston nodded once again.

Doing a few quick calculations, he came up with a plan. “Can I confess something to you, Mr Charleston?”

The man leaned over the counter conspiratorially and nodded more vigorously. His arm pressed down on the open ledger that had been lying open in front of him.

“You see, Miss Sutton and I are old friends. We have devised a little game between us, and I was wondering if you would be so kind as to tell me what book she took yesterday?” Henry narrowed his eyes as if he were making the man privy to some great secret.

Hastening to look at his ledger, Mr Charleston quickly moved his eyes over the page. “Ah yes, it’s a novel from last year. Sense and Sensibility by A Lady. She had mentioned it last year, but there were a few other books that she wanted to read first. Seems to be an anonymous publication by some lady who has written her first novel.” He turned the book over in his hands as he eyed the cover wearily.

Of course, it’s a romance novel. And one by a lady to boot.

Henry caught himself just in time before shaking his head. “Do you perhaps have a copy I could take home with me now? I’m sure she would be delighted to discuss the book next time we see each other.” He couldn’t help smirking at his own plan.

Mr Charleston seemed thoughtful for a moment before hurrying to the backroom and returning with a small brown book. “Here we are; it is quite popular with the young ladies.”

“I’m sure it is; thank you for your assistance, Mr Charleston. You have been a great help.” Henry reached over and retrieved the small book before shoving it into his coat pocket.

“Of course, and I will keep things just between the two of us.” He shut one eye and tapped his nose conspiratorially. “I wouldn’t want to spoil the game.”

“Right, I will appreciate that. I bid you a good evening, Mr Charleston.” He hurried from the shop, realizing he had started something with the old man. All he had wanted was a copy of the novel that Miss Sutton seemed to want, but he had inadvertently started a conspiracy with the poor old man.

He made a mental note to rectify the problem in the future. Perhaps he would casually mention that he and Miss Sutton had a falling out or that they had decided to end their little game. Either way, he would put an end to the tomfoolery and regain his life of reading in seclusion. Mr Charleston’s meddling would be of little consequence after that.

None of that mattered to him now anyway as he hurried back to his home. If his calculations had been correct, he would have had exactly two more days to read the book before sending a note of thanks to Miss Isabelle Sutton.

He could just picture her face when she opened his note and read everything he’d have to say about the book.

The sun was low in the sky when he finally reached his home and headed straight for the study, where he made himself comfortable in an armchair and rang for tea.