“Sword.” Heathcliff held out his hand.
“Goodbye, Wilhelmina.” Victoria gripped the hilt close to her and grinned back at us. Heathcliff looked ready to fight her for it. I shoved him toward the door. “Next time we meet, you’ll be covered in blood.”
“Wait, what do you mean by—” I didn’t get to finish my sentence before the door slammed in my face.
“Hey.” I banged my fist on the door. “Hey, Victoria? What did you just say? Why am I covered in blood?Whose blood is it?”
“Relax, gorgeous. As long as it’s not your blood, or my blood, who cares? I need coffee,” Morrie yawned.
“You’ll have to buy it yourself.” I shoved him toward the living room. “Because I’m going to read this letter and I don’t want your shitty attitude anywhere near me while I do it—”
My words died in my throat.
In the middle of the hallway stood a teenage girl, tall and slim with a fair complexion and brown hair curled into luscious locks around her face. But what was unusual about her – apart from the fact she was standing in the flat, which was supposed to be locked and empty – was what she wore: a white muslin dress with an empire waist that stretched to the floor, white gloves extending above her elbows, and a lace-edge bonnet hanging askance around her neck. I hadn’t been following the latest fashion trends since I left New York City, but I wasn’t aware that empire gowns and bonnets were back in style.
“Pardon me, handsome sirs.” The girl rushed toward us, picking up the hem of her dress as she stepped over our belongings. She elbowed me in the side as she rushed to Morrie and grabbed his arm. “I was on my way to London with a most delicious paramour. He has declared his undying love for me, and everything's just wonderful! Our coach stopped in the town for lunch, and I seem to have taken a wrong turn. A rather wrong turn, judging by the shabby nature of your establishment.”
“If you’re looking for the rest of the Jane Austen fruitcakes, they’re on the town green or up at Baddesley Hall,” Heathcliff muttered. “Now, get out.”
Of course.This was probably one of the festival guests, unable to find the country lane that led up to Baddesley Hall. “Let’s not be rude. I’m sorry you got lost. If you tell us what event you’re supposed to be at, Morrie will take you where you need to go. Do you need a cup of tea first? It’s awfully cold outside.” Snow and wind hit the windows in icy sheets, although I noticed the girl’s dress was dry.
“Thank you, but I’ve already made myself quite at home.” The girl gestured to the living room, where the coffee table was buried under a stack of empty teacups and a half-eaten box of Wagon Wheels. Sticky chocolate fingerprints covered the arm of Heathcliff’s chair.
Heathcliff shoved his way past her and launched himself at his chair. “Your bloody arse has ruined it. It took me years to get this chair just the way I liked it. Didn’t you read the sign?” He glowered at our visitor. “No customers upstairs.”
I turned to Heathcliff. “If you’d let me hang that illustrated map of the festival in the shop window, this wouldn’t be a problem.”
“It’s unbecoming for a lady to gloat over her perceived victories, especially when they are at the expense of such a worthy gentleman.” The girl batted her eyelashes at Heathcliff. When he scowled and looked away, she turned her attention to Morrie. “Ah, I see you are the gentleman of this group.”
“Yeah, Mina. No gloating. We can’t turn away a damsel in distress. We’ll call you a rideshare as soon as we get downstairs, ma’am.” Morrie clasped his hand over hers, flashing her his brilliant smile. His eyes darted to mine, daring me to protest.
What’s he doing? Why is he acting so childish?
“Pardon? I don’t understand. What is this rideshare? Is it the name of your horse? How are you rich enough to afford to keep a carriage? Are you foreigners? Your clothes are frightfully odd.” She inclined her head. “My name is Lydia Bennet, soon to be Lydia Wickham. I’m looking for my fiancé. Have you seen him?”
Chapter Four
“Lydia Bennet?” My words dried on my tongue. I rubbed my side where her sharp elbow had caught me. “As in, Lydia fromPride and Prejudice?”
She squinted at me. “Did your mother drop you on your head? I said my name was Lydia Bennet, and I had no reason to lie about such things. As to your other insult, I have neither excessive pride, unless it be upon the handsomeness of my Wickham or the bonniness of my curls, nor unwanted prejudice! Since I have no reputation to speak of in this backward county, it could not have proceeded me. Yet you speak as if you know my name.”
“Ssssh,” Heathcliff snapped. “She doesn’t know who she is yet.”
Of course.This truly was Lydia Bennet, just as Heathcliffwasthe swoon-worthy hero of Wuthering Heights and Morriewasthe Napoleon of Crime and Quothwasthe bird who beguiled Poe’s sad fancy into smiling. The bookshop’s other power – apart from the room that traveled in time – was to occasionally bring characters from novels into the real world. That was how I ended up with my three guys. Until now, I’d only heard about the others – this was the first time I’d actually been present while it happened.
And for that fictional character to be Lydia Bennet,theLydia Bennet – perhaps the most famous spoiled brat ever to grace the pages of literature – and for her to arrive during the Jane Austen Christmas festival just after we exited the bedroom… like Morrie always said, I didn’t believe in coincidences.
If I was being honest, I wasn’t that fussed with Jane Austen. Sure, her skill with witty conversation and satirical lampooning of the concerns of the upper class was second-to-none, but there weren’t nearly enough dead bodies, exciting mysteries, or – Darcy aside – swoon-worthy passionate heroes for my liking.
But that didn’t mean the prospect of getting to know Lydia wasn’t exciting. Provided she didn’t keep clinging to Morrie and shooting me that possessive look.
If Morrie was in the least bit as shocked as I was, he didn’t show it. He swept up Lydia’s hand in his and gestured toward the living room. “If you’d like to come with us, Miss Bennet, my friend and I shall explain everything.”
She giggled. “I’ll come with you to the ends of the earth, sir, if your friend consents to accompany us. Oh, what fun we shall have!”
I smiled at Lydia slipped her other hand through Heathcliff’s arm and led them boldly down the hallway. How quickly she’d forgotten her ‘dear Wickham’!
“Croak!” Quoth said, his tone disapproving.
