After Alister’s departure, Mara had returned to check on Lyra, only to find tears streaming down her face. She’d instantly grabbed Lyra’s early Christmas gifts, contrary to Roarke’s request that she should wait. Lyra knew it was all in an effort to cheer her.
“Why can’t my life be normal?” she sighed.
“A normal life?” Mara seemed to consider that. “I don’t think there is such a thing. Everyone has personal trials and battles they have to confront. Look at what Roarke and I had to hurdle, and I’m sure Lord and Lady Rockford would agree that their journey was just as difficult. While each circumstance is different, nothing is ever easy all the time. People argue, they die, they have turmoil, but what matters is how you deal with it together.”
“I sound terribly ungrateful, don’t I?” Lyra surreptitiously wiped at her eye. “I’m going to have everything I’ve ever wanted, so why am I still so miserable?”
Seeing as how her presents hadn’t eased her friend’s melancholy like she’d hoped, Mara took Lyra’s hands in her own. “I think what you need is a trip to Bond Street for some shopping therapy.”
Lyra groaned. “Must we?”
“Yes,” Mara said firmly. “So get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs in thirty minutes, or I will come back and drag you down there myself.”
Lyra was smart enough to know when she was defeated, so exactly a half hour later, she was dressed in the pale pink striped silk that she’d acquired in Gretna Green and making her way to the foyer. She threw a lined cloak about her shoulders before adjusting her purple bonnet and tying the ribbons beneath her chin. She joined Mara, who was just as smartly attired in a periwinkle muslin with a matching cloak and bonnet.
Her sister-in-law looped an arm through hers and led her toward the Eversleigh barouche. “And tonight,” Mara chattered excitedly, “the servants are going to bring in a yew tree! Doesn’t that sound wonderful? We have almonds and raisins that we can wrap up and hang on the branches and light candles to decorate it. We’re even going to have syllabub and cranberries and plum pudding, and oh! Even a Yule log!” She shrugged. “I know it’s not quite the ‘thing’ in everyone’s house yet, even after Queen Charlotte married Mad King George and introduced the tradition from Germany. I, however, think it’s just what we all need to celebrate this special holiday.”
Even though Lyra couldn’t fully join in Mara’s enthusiasm, she could certainly appreciate it.
Since it was Christmas Eve, the hustle and bustle of London’s city streets slowed their carriage progress to a near halt. Lyra looked out the window to watch as men, women, and children from all stations of life walked in and out of shops, laughing and talking together as they made last-minute purchases for their loved ones.
They didn’t appear to have a care in the world.
If Lyra could wish for anything for Christmas, it would be the same.
Nevertheless, she forced a smile for Mara when they disembarked at their first stop. An hour later, they walked through the doors of Hatchard’s bookshop, a haven Lyra had traversed many times. “Oh, I wonder if they have any new Gothics!” Mara instantly headed toward one of the many marked shelves.
Lyra also began to peruse the numerous, leather-bound books, but because of her current troubles, nothing struck her with any particular interest.
“Can I help you, miss?”
She glanced up into a wizened, old face. “No, thank you. I’m only browsing while I wait for my sister-in-law.”
“Are you sure there isn’t anything of particular interest to you?”
Lyra thought for a moment as a spontaneous idea took root. “I don’t suppose you would happen to have a codex of any sort? Something unusual?”
The old man chuckled. “I wouldn’t have expected such a request from a young lady such as yourself, but I think I might have just the thing. It just recently came in, as a matter of fact. If you’ll just follow me?”
“I actually have a rather eccentric collection, but this is to be a gift for my husband. He’s particularly fond of…puzzles,” Lyra explained as she followed the slightly stooped man.
“Indeed. This piece should suit him fine then. It’s been a mystery to most for over three hundred years.” With that, he drew forth a delicate tome from behind the counter. Lyra’s eyes widened as she gently flipped through the aged vellum. Some of it was written in Latin, although most of the manuscript contained an unknown script, along with several illustrated pages. “As you can see, it covers a variety of subjects, from herbs to astronomy and beyond. It’s quite a rare find.”
“This is amazing,” she whispered, awestruck. She had certainly never seen its equal, and she possessed an early, sixteenth-century edition of Dante Alighieri’sDivine Comedyin her collection. Turning the book over, she studied the cover. “There’s no title?”
The shopkeeper winked. “That’s part of the intrigue.”
“Where did it come from?”
“An anonymous benefactor,” he replied vaguely, giving her cause to wonder if he really didn’t know the source of the donating party or if he just didn’t care to disclose the information.
Either way, Lyra knew she had to get it for Alister. “How much?” After he quoted her a staggering sum, she nodded. It would be worth every ha’penny if this would be a start to repairing the riff in her relationship with Alister. “I’ll take it.”
Mara returned once he’d wrapped up the book and handed it over to Lyra. “What did you get?”
“Something for Alister.”
Her sister-in-law winced. “Well, don’t I feel selfish now.” She set down three novels. “I fear these are all for me.” She winked. “But I shall certainly give Roarke the credit.”
