The sign over the brick fronted shop read "Books and Tea" in scrolling white letters.
"I've heard so much about this place," Hannah said, clasping her hands together.
Constance squirmed uncomfortably. She'd never been in a bookshop, couldn't afford them and she'd never had the time to read much more than days old newspapers anyway, falling asleep as soon as her weary head hit her pillow each night.
"They say it's delightfully disruptive and liable to get Ladies thinking in unorthodox ways," Hannah continued with a mischievous smile.
Constance smiled too, despite the voice whispering caution to her.
"Shall we go in? I'd like to buy you something to read in the evenings."
Warning bells went off inside her.
"Of course you can borrow anything from our library, but it's nice to have a tome of one's own, is it not?"
Constance looked down at her taffeta skirt, bought with Mary's money. Irritation tinted with shame needled her. Maybe all rich people thought they could buy you with gifts.
Hannah pulled the door open, a bell announcing their arrival. A dusty vanilla smell tickled her nose as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Wooden shelves crowded with books rose up to greet her from every angle.
"Good afternoon, ladies. Can I help you find anything?" Constance blinked at a black and white cat sitting on the counter. The cat blinked back.
"There's some lovely new fiction in, plus I always keep the most current National Academy of Sciences pamphlets and papers." A woman materialized from behind a stack of books.
Hannah laughed weakly. "I thought the cat was talking."
"Colonel?" The woman said, scratching his head. "He communicates, but not with the English language, yet anyway."
"Is he French then?" Constance asked with a smile.
The cat stuck his nose in the air and then leapt off the counter and sauntered away.
"Oh dear, now you've gone and offended him," the proprietress said with a sigh.
"I'm sorry," Constance called after the cat, feeling that she truly had spoken out of turn.
"His fur is easily riled these days. No matter, you're here for books and tea." She nodded toward the back of the store where several ladies sat drinking tea at small round tables. A young maid in a black-and-white uniform bustled back and forth with teapots and trays of scones.
"How delightful," Hannah said with a wide smile.
It was delightful, despite Constance's hesitations. The little tea annex had long windows looking out at a patio garden covered in pots of flowers, herbs, and mint. She wanted to sit down and enjoy a steaming cup of fine tea herself, but she couldn't help feeling that it would end up being another chain around her neck. Constance rubbed her wrists and then wondered absently if she could get a job here, if it would be enough to support her family. She worried her lip between her teeth.
She felt eyes on her. A lone woman sat in the back corner, sipping out of a delicate floral teacup. She was ghostly pale and gorgeous and she should have been completely disruptive wearing men's trousers and a flowing blouse, but no one else seemed to notice her at all.
The lady held up her cup and nodded to Constance as if in toast.
"Come on," Hannah said, linking their arms and pulling her toward a towering book shelf titled Fiction-The Good Stuff.
"Miss Olivia says these books catch you and don't let go. I know I should want to read the science papers, but," she shrugged helplessly. "Anyway, Hugh already gets the royal academy papers delivered to Carnsley."
They disappeared into a row of books, gilt edges and leather spines lining shelves.
"How can so many words and so many stories exist anywhere?" Constance wondered, running her finger along a title.
Hannah pulled out a book and fanned the pages under Constance's nose. "Doesn't that smell amazing?"
Constance took a step back, surprised at her nearness, but then she did smell it, glue and vanilla—It smelled like possibilities and maybe magic.
Hannah began pulling books out with alacrity. "Oh, this one is delightful," she said, handing one to Constance. "You should definitely have your own copy."
Sense and Sensibility, The book was heavy in Constance's hands.
"It's about sisters, and love," Hannah said with a sigh. She began moving again, pulling more books down as she went.
Constance followed woodenly. The book felt like bait to a trap she couldn't quite make out.
It's fine, she told herself firmly. It's just a book. But Mary had taken her arm in just the same way Hannah had. She'd gifted her gowns, gloves, even the hat Constance was currently wearing. She'd told Constance they were gifts of love bought out of an inheritance that should have been hers, anyway. And Constance had been stupid and desperate enough to believe it. To think her fortunes had finally turned.
Her hands were clammy. She slid Sense and Sensibility back onto the shelf.
"I can't possibly buy all of these?" Hannah said, throwing a smile over her shoulder. She waited a beat and then said warmly, "you're supposed to say, 'buy them Hannah, you deserve it, Hugh won't mind.'"
Constance smiled despite herself.
"Let's get tea and look them over and decide," Hannah said, leading her toward the tables.
Hannah ordered them tea and a tray of scones, and then she looked at Constance and cocked her head to the side. "Have you already read Sense and Sensibility?"
"No." It sounded wooden and awkward and terribly rude. "I don't think you should buy me things." She stumbled over her words.
Hannah's face fell. "Oh."
Constance felt like an ever loving fool who should never have left her leaky cottage and her empty kitchen.
The waitress came over and set teacups in front of them, followed by the pot and a tray of warm scones and clotted cream. Constance watched her work intently. It was so much better than looking into Hannah's face.
Hannah poured tea into their cups. "Cream or sugar?" she asked shortly.
"No," Constance said. "Thank you." She wanted to crawl inside her teacup and drown. She forced a couple of swallows down. "What was it about? The book I mean?" She was floundering.
"A family of sisters who lose everything when their father dies—" she trailed off awkwardly. Hannah picked up a book and flipped through it, her shoulders sagging.
"Thank you for the tea," Constance said, wondering why Hannah was so defeated over a book, even if Constance had been rude.
"If—If you have it at home I'd like to, I mean I could borrow it?" The awkwardness stretched tighter.
"You don't have to," Hannah said, picking at a scone. "You know," she said after a moment. "It isn't really my money. It's Hugh's and I'm sure that some day it might be yours too, so—" she trailed off again.
This poor woman. She was putting up with Constance and her family because she loved her brother and Constance had repaid her by being rude and standoffish. Still, Mary's smile clawed at the inside of her heart.
"I don't think your brother is interested in me at all," Constance said, remembering the brief kiss they'd shared and the regret she'd seen on his face after. If nothing else, she could at least be honest with Hannah about that, and then maybe Hannah wouldn't feel as if she needed to try so hard.
Hannah looked up at her, her brow raised skeptically, which was a hundred times better than her downcast face.
"It's too bad about those scars, poor dear." Lowered voices drifted from another table. Constance bristled.
"Too true," another woman answered. "It's positively ghastly."
Hannah's gaze had gone back to her teacup, but red spots blazed to life on her cheeks. Constance herself had ignored countless murmurings directed at her and her family in public, but anger coursed through her anyway as she studied the two women over the rim of her cup.
"I can't decide what's worse, poor manners or ostentatious dress," Constance said, her voice pitched just loud enough to be heard. She leaned toward Hannah, conspiratorially unsure of what was coming over her. "But there really is no accounting for poor taste. I will ask Lord Brummell what he thinks the next time Lord Connor extends an invitation."
"Pardon me," one lady said, turning toward them. "Did you say you know Lord Brummel?"
Constance reminded herself that she was wearing clothes Mary had chosen and were the height of fashion. Then she channeled her inner Lydia by peering down her nose at the lady and her companion.
"I'm not sure one really knows the master of fashion," she answered cooly.
"I'm lady Alderly and this is Lady Cumberlain," the woman said, the ridiculous pheasant on her hat trembling in excitement.
Constance made a face as if the names rang a bell. "Oh, your lady Alderly. Your fashion choices precede you."
"Why thank you," the woman said.
"Oh, you poor dear," Constance said, taking a deliberate sip of tea.
There was a beat of silence as the two women struggled to decipher Constance's words.
"Well, I never—" her companion finally said, drawing herself up.
"Is there a problem here?" The woman from the corner was suddenly standing beside them.
She was all curves and completely at ease with herself in clothes that were not ostentatious, but somehow looked more fabulous than anything Constance had ever seen. And she must have moved with the grace of a cat. Constance hadn't seen or heard her coming toward them at all.
Constance threw Hannah an apologetic look. They were sure to be thrown out now thanks to her, and they hadn't even finished their tea.
"This young lady just insulted my friend," Lady Cumberlain said.
"Did she?" The woman replied with barely concealed contempt.
Constance took a gulp of tea. It was fabulous and she might as well drink as much as possible before they were told to leave.
"She insulted my hat," Lady Alderly replied.
"I can see why. I'm impressed your companion was brave enough to be seen with you in public."
Hannah coughed behind her gloved hand, and Constance choked on her swallow of tea.
The women's faces turned red.
"I'd like to speak to the owner!" Lady Alderly said.
"Of course," the woman flashed a smile full of sharp teeth.
Lady Cumberlain's indignation wavered slightly. She looked at her friend nervously.
"Darling," the woman called in a melodic French accent, "This woman would like to speak with you about the horror she's wearing on her head."
The proprietress came out from behind the counter, the cat in her arms.
"That is an exceptionally ugly hat," she said matter-of-factly. "I have some haberdashery books around here, and a couple of fashion plates from Paris, if you're interested."
The women's mouths hung open in shock.
"Do you know who I am?" Lady Alderly said, standing, her friend following suit.
"Oh, I'm so sorry." The gorgeous woman said, placing a hand on each of their backs. "It's not just the chapeau, your entire mind is muddled." She was pushing them toward the door. "Honestly, that's a relief. This hat choice is hardly your fault after all. You better take your friend home. She is quite out of her mind, doesn't even know who she is."
The gentlewomen spluttered as the breeches clad woman thrust them unceremoniously onto the street.
Constance sat with her cup half raised. Hannah's mouth hung open in shock.
"Well, that was fun," the gorgeous woman said from the door. She looked at Constance as she walked back into the annex. "Merci beaucoup." Constance could almost feel the smug satisfaction rolling off the woman. "I'm Emile."
"Constance," Constance said, unsure of herself. "And this is Hannah."
"Lovely to meet you both. And now, I must be going."
"Goodbye Emile, thank you for the delivery," the shop owner said.
"That is what I do," she said, pulling a tricorn hat on to her head. "I have a feeling we will meet again," she said, turning to Constance and Hannah while adjusting the hat to a jaunty angle. She winked at the proprietress and then glided from the shop.
"She makes that hat work for her," the shop owner said, sighing longingly. She turned her attention to the stack of books on the table. "Shall I ring these up for you while you finish your tea?"
"Yes?" Hannah said
"Excellent choices," the lady said, gathering them up. "You take as much time as you'd like. These will be ready for you when you're done."
"I'm not entirely sure what just happened," Constance said, once the proprietress was gone.
"Me either," Hannah said, looking at her teacup like it might have some answers.
"Was it because I pretended to know Brummell?"
"Somehow, I don't think so," Hannah said, bursting into laughter. Constance joined her, a weight lifting from her shoulders. This was the first time she'd laughed since Mary's betrayal.
"Her hat really was ugly," Hannah giggled.
"Agreed," Constance said.
"I appreciate what you did back there," Hannah said, sobering. "But you needn't worry. I'm used to hearing things like that."
"Just because we're used to a thing doesn't make it alright," Constance said.
Hannah drummed her fingers on the table. "I'm sorry you're uncomfortable here. I've always thought this was the kind of place you go with a friend, and I'd heard such wonderful things about it, but I didn't think how it might make you feel."
"Surely you have friends," Constance said in surprise.
"I have a lot of acquaintances here, few friends." She said it matter-of-factly. "I have friends back home in Scotland, but most of the people in London came at my mother's behest and now that she's gone—" Hannah shrugged.
"For what it's worth, I haven't much experience with companions either. I shouldn't have been so rude when you offered to buy me a book." Constance wanted to go on, but she wasn't sure how.
Hannah refilled their teacups.
"Mary was my first genuine friend, outside of Gran, that is." She took a deep breath. "And she gave me all kinds of things. Everything I'm wearing, actually." Constance studied her tea, so she didn't have to look at Hannah. "She told me not to feel awkward about it, that they were things that should have been mine anyway because of our grandfather. She said we were family." There was a catch in her voice.
Constance took a moment to get her feelings in check. She absolutely would not fall apart in the middle of this bookshop.
"Maybe I deserved what they did for being foolish enough not to realize there was a price," she said finally. "I let them own me with every gift and kindness."
Hannah leaned forward and squeezed Constance's arm. "Don't let them turn you into a cynic," she said.
Constance's eyes burned, but she risked looking at Hannah, anyway.
"I have some experience with this," Hannah continued. "Don't let them steal the good things from you."
Constance nodded.
"Perhaps," Hannah said cautiously, "perhaps we may be friends."
"Be careful what you offer," Constance said, clearing her throat. "My mother is mad."
"You want to know a secret," Hannah dropped her voice to a whisper. "My brother is a werewolf."
A smile broke across Constance's face. Hannah smiled back and in all honesty, her scars were barely visible.