‘But quite so soon?’ I replied. ‘She is only eighteen and barely out of pigtails.’
‘You yourself marriedat twenty,’ countered Jane. ‘It is not so much older than Lucy is now, and she is mature for her age.’
‘That was an exceptional circumstance,’ I said.
‘By “exceptional circumstance”, do you mean you fell in love with Mr Stonyface?’ teased Jane.
‘I think you’ll find that Mr Stonyface fell in love withmeand proposed forthwith,’ I corrected.
‘Yes, the circumstances surrounding that event are still rather shady, but I shall get the truth of it one day.’
Not if I can help it, I thought, remembering Max’s drunken proposal in the field behind our house.Thatwas a story best left untold, especially to an aspiring author.
After a short walk from Queen Square, we turned left at the end of the road and reached our destination: Milsom Street. It was the most fashionable street in Bath and where the wealthy came to shop, if the number of ladies in richly coloured silks and feathered hats was anything to go by.
The circulating library was located about halfway along, in a narrow honey-coloured limestone building. It had six windows, three small on top and three larger on the bottom, and was sandwiched between a bank and a bookseller—the prices of whose books Jane pronounced ‘extortionate’.
‘Why’, she asked, ‘would we bother buying a book for two pounds when we could borrow multiple books for amonthly subscription of five shillings?’
I agreed that it was a much more sensible arrangement.
Elizabeth wanted to stop in at a milliner’s across the street, but Jane was itching to go to the library, and so was Lucinda. In the end, we said that we would meet Elizabeth inside and order a book for Edward. ‘Anything that’s comical or adventurous—Jane knows what he likes.’
I was not sure of the protocol, but Jane said it was a matter of perusing the library catalogue and choosing a title. The clerk would then retrieve it for us. We could also take light refreshments in the reading room if we so desired.
‘How civilised,’ I said, wondering if there was any proper food like cake to be had. I could definitely get used to visiting the library if there was cake.
I myself was not interested in scouring the catalogue. So I waited, feeling a bit bored, while Jane and Lucinda pored over it, discussing various titles. I went over to the other side of the room to look out the window and saw Elizabeth crossing the street, clutching a hatbox, which made me smile. She seemed to have ventured out more with the aim of shopping than visiting the library.
When I returned to the counter, Jane was checking out a book for Edward and already had one for herself sitting on the counter.
‘What’s that?’ I asked, peering at the brown leathercover.
‘Volume two ofThe Monkby Matthew Lewis. It’s just been returned,’ she said, sounding pleased.
‘What’s it about?’
Jane motioned me away from the counter and said in a low voice, ‘I will tell you later. It’s rather scandalous. The clerk warned me it was not for young ladies and was reluctant to let me have it. But I insisted, saying that I had read volume one and had not been overly shocked.’
‘Gracious,’ I said, intrigued.
Jane grinned. ‘Shall we see if there’s anything to eat in the reading room? Lucinda has already gone in.’
‘Ooh, yes.’
I had high hopes. But in the reading room, there were only a few hard-looking biscuits and tiny fish paste sandwiches, neither of which appealed, and cups of fruit-flavoured cordial that was bright orange. It was most disappointing.
Elizabeth joined us presently and agreed, saying it was not edible, so we decided to take our leave and have afternoon tea at home. Lucinda and Jane strolled off together discussing their books, so Elizabeth fell into step with me.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said conversationally. ‘But I took the liberty of picking up this from the library. Ithought you might find it helpful.’
Reaching into the pocket of her striped skirt, she drew out a pamphlet. She handed it to me, and I sighed inwardly when I saw the title:The Mother’s Companion: A Guide to Pregnancy and Child-Rearing.
I promptly handed it back to her. ‘That was kind of you, but I won’t need to read it.’
There was an awkward silence as she put the pamphlet back in her pocket, and we continued walking. But the subject was obviously still uppermost in her mind as she said, ‘How long have you been married now, Felicity?’
‘Two and a half years,’ I replied warily, having a notion of where this was going.
