“We adore it,” Lady Alexandria said. “It’s a play on your own name, isn’t it?”
“It is, yes, although not everyone understands that. Some think it needs an apostrophe and anS.”
“That would absolutely ruin it.”
“I thought so as well.”
“So you actually own the shop,” Lady Victoria said.
“No, my brother does. Because of the law regarding married women and property.”
“Oh yes, dastardly thing.”
“But other than that, it’s all mine. I decide which books I’ll carry. I arrange everything, create the displays. Would you ladies like a tour?”
Lady Penelope looked at her friends. They all nodded. “That would be splendid.”
Fancy introduced Marianne to them—not certain she’d ever seen her clerk so starry-eyed—and while she watched the counter, Fancy took the ladies up to the reading parlor.
“Oh, isn’t this lovely?” Lady Penelope said. “It’s like a regular parlor only with lots of books.”
“People can borrow them and read them in here.”
With her delicate brow pinched, she looked at Fancy. “I thought you had a bookshop, which means selling books.”
“I do. Downstairs. Up here is a lending library. But there is no subscription fee.”
“How do you maintain it?”
“With donations.”
Her brow smoothed out, and she seemed quite relieved. “Oh, I see. How clever you are. So people who can’t afford books can read them.”
“Exactly.” She went on to explain about her classes.
“What good works you do, Miss Trewlove,” Lady Penelope said, while her friends smiled and bobbed their heads. “You must find it all very satisfying.”
“I do.”
“What if you marry a man who won’t let you continue with these endeavors?” Lady Alexandria asked.
“Well, I shan’t marry a man who won’t.” Fancy had spoken without thinking. And yet, she knew she’d stated the truth. No matter how much she wanted to please her family, she couldn’t marry a man who would make her unhappy. Could she? Would they ask her to make that sacrifice?
Lady Victoria appeared shocked. “You get to choose whom you marry? I don’t believe my parents are going to let me. They care too much about his position—their position.”
“Hopefully it’ll work out that the man you love is the man they want you to marry.”
“I don’t know that I have to love him, but I would very much prefer to like him.”
“We’re all going to have splendid matches,” Lady Penelope said.
“I’m certain we are,” Fancy concurred.
“Oh, my goodness. Is that a cat on that shelf?” Lady Penelope asked.
Looking toward the bookcase to the right of the fireplace, Fancy saw Dickens lounging between Austen and Brontë. “That’s Dickens. He keeps a watch over things for me.”
“I love animals, but my mother would never let me keep one inside.” She wandered over to the bookcase, lifted her arms, then glanced back at Fancy. “Will he scratch or bite?”
