“For the world to end. You did not hit the target. You are not perfect at something. Surely the heavens are about to crash down.”
She felt hot and cold at the same time. At least having just stared at the sun gave her an excuse to blink back the tears in her eyes.
If he noticed her watering eyes, he was gentleman enoughnot to comment. Instead, he grinned, wide and broad, as though her failure meant nothing, as though it could be an amusement, should she wish it.
Oh, Eleanor. What were you thinking? That would require coordination and patience. How I birthed a child with neither, I’ll never know.
“Will you try again?” he asked, gesturing to the discarded weapon behind them.
She would fail again. She was not naive enough to think that her next shot would find its mark when the first didn’t come close. But the smirk on his face called her a coward.
“Fine.” Her skirts swished as she marched back to where the gun lay.
So, she tried again. And again, and again. At first, she was keenly aware of him, and of their audience, and of the fear that pooled at the base of her throat, making itself known every time she breathed. As the minutes wore on, though, she relaxed and the rest of the party faded away. After thirty minutes, the closest she’d come to hitting the target was nicking the very top of it.
Peter whooped each time she fired, regardless. There was no surprisedOh, Eleanorfrom him. There was no frustration as he constantly adjusted her stance with no demonstrable improvement. There was no subtle disappointment in his tone.
Instead, at the end of an hour, when it was time to return to her duties, she was no better at shooting than she had been at the beginning, and he didn’t seem to mind that at all.
“So, what is next?” he asked as they climbed the hill, rousing her from her thoughts.
“Fetching sandwiches, I imagine.” Even from this distance,she could see the dowager’s rabid stare. Eleanor would have a lot of questions to answer.
He put a hand to her elbow, bringing them to a stop. He tipped her face until she couldn’t escape his gaze. “No, I mean,what is next?What other scary thing are you going to try now that you know you can?”
Dear Captain,
Absolutely nothing has changed since I woke up this morning. My circumstances are all as they were. And yet my body feels different, lighter, as though my circumstances weigh less and my lungs can fully expand. I think I’ll sleep better tonight, despite the fact that tomorrow I must undertake the impossible task of selling my library. I know you’ll understand the pain more than anyone. I wished you’d been able to see it in its full glory at least once.
But it’s necessary. I must let go of the past in order to face the future, however much I do not want to.
Yours,
Booklover
Chapter Thirty
Still with his mind half on Eleanor and the way she’d felt in his arms, Peter leaned against the door that separated his office from the warehouse that had once been crammed full of Linotypes. Most of the stock had been purchased. More machines had been ordered. He could have easily sold the few that remained to those publishers who were desperate to buy them. Certainly, he’d been offered obscene sums.
But the Linotypes that remained had another purpose, as did the telegraphs and typewriters and switchboards that sat on the rows of long benches he and Andrew had installed earlier that week.
“Are you ready?” Andrew asked.
“More than you can know.”
Andrew nodded and crossed to the front doors, dragging them open. The men and women who entered did so hesitantly, looking at the devices warily. At least, most of them did. One woman bounded in with enthusiasm, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw Peter.
“Your Grace,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here in person.”
“Miss Cole.” He took her hand. “I see you’ve chosen to use the door this time.”
Lillian colored. “Technically, I used the door last time. I just didn’t use a key.”
He grinned. She was sprightly and not at all lost for words in his presence. He could see why she and Eleanor were friends. “I suppose that’s true. In which case, it was you who picked the lock, wasn’t it?”
She winced. “Will I be arrested if I say yes?”
“No, I think you’ll be fine.” He looked over her shoulder to see if Eleanor was also attending. He hadn’t mentioned the school to her, and she’d not mentioned it today, yet perhaps he would still be graced with her presence. But there was no flash of bright color amongst those who milled about the entrance.
