Fortunately, Mr Hart did recover enough to continue and gave us a tour of the grounds near the castle. These consisted of a rabbit-infested meadow and an orchard with around two dozen apple trees that needed a good prune. There was also a vegetable garden near the kitchen, whichwas in a much healthier state with neatly planted rows of carrots, turnips, cucumbers, and cabbages. I suspected Maurice tended that.
‘Now for the pièce de résistance, the library,’ declared Mr Hart.
‘Ooh, goodie,’ said Lucinda, clapping her hands, and he smiled at her.
‘Yes, I have not forgotten, although I did consider leaving it for another day as I did not feel up to it.’ He looked at me with a wounded expression. However, I averted my eyes and stared pointedly at a cabbage. Obviously, I was still not forgiven, and Lord, was he milking it!
The library was accessed through the smaller south turret, and we had to ascend a spiral staircase to reach it. Mr Hart led us up, and we followed him in single file, clutching at a rope railing. ‘Watch your heads at the top,’ he cautioned. ‘The doorway is low and has an overhanging stone. I have banged my head on it several times.’
Pity he does not bang his head on it now, I thought.It might knock some sense into him.
Up until now, I had not been particularly impressed with anything on the tour (including Mr Hart’s attitude!), but this changed when I ducked through the doorway and beheld the splendid library. Curved wooden shelves rose sixhigh and were filled with hundreds of leather-bound volumes. Round porthole-style windows, set at intervals throughout the turret walls, ensured that there was enough light to see by; and if not, there were plenty of candles and lanterns waiting to be lit. Woven rugs had been placed on the flagstones to make it cosy, and there were several comfortable chairs with folded blankets in the middle of the space. I imagined you could curl up here and read to your heart’s content or at least until you got too hungry to concentrate.
‘Oh, it is wonderful!’ cried Lucinda, running over to a shelf and immediately starting to browse the titles.
‘I think you have lost Lucy for the rest of the stay,’ Jane commented to Mr Hart.
He chuckled, looking pleased. ‘And do you like it too, Miss Austen?’ he asked her.
‘I do, very much so,’ she said, looking around with a small smile. ‘As libraries go, this is one of the most unusual I have ever been in. But I have a test to ascertain its true excellence—does it contain any romance novels?’
Mr Hart bowed. ‘Of course, there is a whole section dedicated to the latest ones. Please follow me.’
Now we have lost Jane too, I thought, amused.
They went off, and I was left with Mr Smith-Withers, who had plucked an encyclopaedia-sized book from abottom shelf and was seated in an armchair. It seemed to contain nothing but maps, but if that interested him, who was I to judge?
Idly, I wandered along the nearest shelf, peering at the titles. It was a whole row of Shakespeare’s plays and sonnets bound in rich red leather with gilt-tooled spines. I was interested in the Bard’s works per se, but not enough to sit down and read any at present. Yet it appeared we were to be here until luncheon the way everyone was settling in.Perhaps I should go and peruse the romance novel section too?I was just about to when I spied, on the next shelf over,The Monk: Volume One;and nestled next to it were volumes two and three. Oh, Jane would be thrilled. She could read the next instalment here and need not wait for it to become available in Bath. I looked around to call her over, but she was animatedly discussing something with Mr Hart. No matter, I would tell her later.
My fingers brushed the spines of the books next toThe Monkand landed on another familiar title:Fanny Hill. I jerked my hand back, as if it were burned, and looked around. But no one had noticed anything. Harriet had returned her banned copy ofFanny Hillto cousin Erica as soon as she got engaged to Evan, but I could still recall us giggling over some of the more lurid scenes. It was definitely educational, but not the kind of book young ladies shouldbe reading. I would not, therefore, be recommending it to Lucinda. Seraphina would kill me if I did. But how funny to discover a copy here!
There were a number of books in plain black leather covers sitting next to it. Curiously, I pulled one out and turned to the title page:Teaching Mollyby Anonymous.
It seemed to fall naturally open at a certain page, so I skim-read a couple of paragraphs. As I did, my eyes widened. A gentleman was visiting a housemaid called Molly in her chamber and was not being shy about his intentions.
He requested politely that Molly remove her chemise, but she refused, calling him a beast for asking. Yet to his frustration, she began teasing him by untying it and showing him a bare silky shoulder, then a glimpse of her white voluptuous bosom. This whipped him into a impolite and uncontrollable passion. He started chasing her round the room, whereupon there was much giggling (from her) and grunting (from him). She made a bid for escape out the door and almost achieved it, but he caught hold of her chemise at the last minute and unceremoniously ripped it from her. Molly, naked and laughing, was thrown ontothe bed, where he proceeded to unleash his fervent desire and teach her an enjoyable lesson ...
Blushing furiously, I slapped the book shut and shoved it back into its rightful place on the shelf. Good Lord, now I knew why the book’s cover was so discreet. I seemed to have stumbled upon the library’s smut section. No wonder Mr Hart had spent practically every waking moment of his teenage years in here when he was not at Eton!
‘Find anything you like, Mrs Fitzroy?’ a low voice said from behind me, and I spun around guiltily to find Mr Hart leaning casually against the bookshelf. He took one look at my pink cheeks and chuckled. I groaned inwardly. Trust him to come across me riffling through erotica. How utterly embarrassing! But maybe I could brazen my way through it.
‘No, not on this particular shelf, Mr Hart,’ I said, shaking my head at him reproachfully. ‘You would do well to keep these books under lock and key in case any innocent young ladies happen upon them by accident.’ I looked pointedly at Lucinda, who was curled up in an armchair, her nose in a book.
‘So you do not put yourself in the category of “innocent young lady” then?’ he drawled. I glanced back at him, and he was staring at me so intently that I gulped.
‘Well, no, of course not. I am married and well versed in what occurs inthe bedroom,’ I said decorously. I meant to give the impression that I was a mature woman and had no need of such silly books, but I realised that saying I was well versed in the bedroom was not a good thing to tell a rake.
‘Indeed,’ he replied huskily.
Oh no, this was dangerous. I needed to get off the subject of ‘the bedroom’ immediately. ‘Er, so shall we be having luncheon soon?’
‘Yes, in a little while. Hmm, I wonder what was it about this book in particular that you were so absorbed in,’ he said thoughtfully.
To my horror, he reached across and plucked outTeaching Mollyand unabashedly flipped to the page I had been reading! It was either to get back at me for my earlier admonishment or to make me feel even more excruciatingly uncomfortable than I already did. Whichever it was, it worked. My ears burned in shame as he scrutinised the passage with a smirk on his face, obviously enjoying my discomfort.
‘Well well well,’ he said, closing the book. He placed it back on the shelf, accidentally on purpose brushing my shoulder as he did so. ‘How interesting that out of all the books in the library, you should gravitate to this one.’
‘I did not “gravitate” to it!’ I hissed. ‘I was simply browsing andhappenedupon it.’
