“A ball?” A voice called from the end of the hall. Lydia stood in the doorway to the main room, her empire-waist dress sweeping the floor as she jumped up and down with glee. “It’s not yet the season of course, but I will acquiesce to attend.”
Mrs. Lachlan’s eyes widened. “You look as though you’re dressed for the ball already, ma’am. Do you not already have a ticket?”
“Who needs a ticket to a private ball? One is either invited or they aren’t,” Lydia glared at me. “Considering you’ve cruelly pulled me into your world from one where I would marry the delectable Wickham, this is my best opportunity to secure a husband—”
“This is Lydia, ah… Wilde,” I said, thinking fast, as Cynthia peered at Lydia with curiosity. “She’s my second cousin. Her parents sent her over for the Christmas holidays to enjoy the festival. She’s French, you know, so she’s a little…” I made a motion that Cynthia might interpret in a myriad of ways.
“I’m not French.” Lydia stamped her foot. “How dare you say such a thing!”
“I told you,” I winked. Cynthia nodded and stepped away. She pointed at the envelope in my hand. “I didn’t know you had family visiting. I’m afraid I have only four tickets available…”
Lydia scurried forward and grabbed the envelope. She pulled out one of the tickets. “This one’s mine. What you do with the rest is your business.”
I peered in the envelope at the three remaining tickets. My hand thrust into my pocket, touching the edge of my father’s letter.We just got this big potential clue about the mystery of Nevermore Bookshop, and that something in the future is going to be bloody, and my father is somehow mixed up in it. Is it really the time to spend a weekend away?
But then I thought about how weird Morrie was being lately, and how maybe it was to do with being shut up in the shop, and how the tension that held Heathcliff together relaxed when he was outside, in the fresh air, and how Quoth hid away in the attic with his paintings and his beautiful sad eyes.
And I couldn’t escape the idea of all those rich people with their fancy jewels, all the extra staff, all the people coming and going… the perfect hunting ground for the Argleton Jewel Thief. No way was the burglar going to pass up this opportunity.
As much as I wanted to sit in the bookshop and figure out why my father was sending me notes from the past, and why Victoria had seen me covered in blood, I also wanted to…notthink about it. Because my head was already a mess. I still hadn’t told Heathcliff or Morrie about seeing the neon lights. And when I did… Nevermore would no longer be an escape from my problems. I wasn’t sure I was ready to face any of it – my dad, my eyes, my feelings for the guys – yet.
Maybe getting out of Nevermore for a few days would help me prepare, and it might sort out Morrie’s bad attitude. That is, if Lydia didn’t force him to marry her.
Cynthia glanced from Lydia back to me. “So you’ll come?”
Behind her, Heathcliff poked his head through the door and made a throat-slitting motion with his hand. I beamed at him and swiped the three tickets. “Thank you, Cynthia. We wouldn’t miss the Jane Austen Experience for the world.”
Chapter Six
“What are we going to do abouther?” Morrie hissed. The four of us huddled around the flat’s blazing fire. Outside the window, light snow fluttered past the window on its way to blanketing Argleton in fluffy holiday ambiance. Empty takeaway containers from the Curry House littered the table, and the air was thick with the scent of rogan josh and Irish coffee.
In case we hadn’t figured out to whom he referred, Morrie jabbed his finger at his desk chair, where Lydia slouched, squealing with glee as she punched the keys with a single finger.
“I did it!” she cried. “Lord Moriarty, I have created my firstsocial media profile. Look at all the men who’ve inquired about my friendship already! This is infinitely easier than waiting for Daddy to introduce himself to the eligible men in the neighborhood. I wonder if I can talk to some soldiers…”
The floor at Lydia’s feet was littered with empty soft drink cans and chocolate bar wrappers. She’d spent the whole day demanding Morrie (or Lord Moriarty, as she now called him) acquaint her with the pleasures of modern living. After an exhaustive lesson in electricity and microwave popcorn, she dragged Morrie outside and demanded he order her a rideshare ‘carriage’ so she could experience the wonders of the automobile. They drove off into the countryside and returned with five bags of junk food and a very subdued master criminal. Now Lydia swiveled around in the chair, her eyes sparkling. “Lord Mooooorrrriarty, this man named Ahmed has sent me a letter. Oh, it appears to be some sort of portrait. I wonder if he’s handsome…”
“Click the envelope icon and find out,” Morrie said with a sigh. “None of our other fictional visitors have been this exhausting.”
“Your charge has settled in nicely,” Heathcliff said.
“She’s not mine,” Morrie shot back.
“You might want to tell her that,Lord Moriarty,” Heathcliff sneered.
“She insisted that if my bank account was as bloated as I claimed, I must have a title!”
Lydia frowned at the screen. “That’s not a portrait! It appears to be some kind of wrinkled sausage. But why would this man feel the need to share a likeness of his meat with me?”
I snorted. Lydia had just become the first Bennet sister to receive a dick pic. She had much to learn.
“Apparently, I’m to beherescort for this ridiculous weekend,” Morrie declared, pinching his temples as if he fought off a headache. “Perhaps I can arrange a convenient suicide.”
“Come on,Lord Moriarty. it’ll be fun,” I beamed, even as my own headache flared at the edges of my skull. In the corner of the room, a neon-green light wiggled across the darkened edges of my vision.
“Fun?” Morrie picked up the brochure and read from the list of activities. “What’s fun about a costume promenade, or a hat-making workshop, or a lecture on sex and sensuality… no, actually, that one does sound intriguing.”
“That’s the keynote given by Professor Julius Hathaway.” I pointed to the man’s picture over Morrie’s shoulder. “He’s the historian who first discovered Jane’s connection to Argleton. Apparently, he’s a bit of a celebrity to the Janeites.”
