“Has the paper arrived yet?” she asked a footman.
“I believe Larrow is pressing it right now.”
Emily thanked the footman and continued toward the butler’s pantry. She knocked on the door and pushed it open when Larrow’s voice invited her to enter.
His eyes widened when he saw it was she, and he instantly drew to attention. “Good morning, my lady. How may I be of service?”
“Please take care not to burn that,” Emily said, noting that he’d released his hold on the iron and left it on top of the paper. “I’m very eager to read it.”
“Of course.” He snatched the iron back up. “I’ll just be a moment.”
Emily tried her best to remain as patient as possible while the butler finished his task, but could not refrain from tapping her foot.
“Sorry,” she muttered when he sent her a curious look.
“Will you not go upstairs?” he asked. “I can bring it to you as soon as it’s ready.”
“Very well. Just don’t take too long.”
She removed herself to the dining room where a hot cup of tea provided a lovely distraction. The paper arrived the next moment, offered to her on a silver tray. Emily snatched it up with more haste than was deemed proper and promptly leafed to the only section of interest.
Relief sped through her veins when she saw the page Harriet had created. It was perfect. The old review was gone and in its place was the new one she’d written.
Emily re-folded the paper and placed it neatly beside her father’s plate. She then downed the rest of her tea, quickly ate a slice of toast, and returned upstairs where Georgina helped her prepare for the day ahead. By eight-thirty, the two of them left the house and set their course for Hatchards.
The place didn’t open until nine o’clock so they were still a bit early. They were, however, not the only customers to have arrived. A queue was already forming. Since this was slightly unusual, Emily approached one of the ladies who waited for the doors to be opened.
“Excuse me,” said Emily. “May I inquire as to your reason for having come here so early?”
“I love Miss Austen’s novels,” the woman informed her. “I’ve read every one and was very sad when I learned there wouldn’t be any more. But apparently there’s a new author who’s writing similar stories. I just read the review, written by The Lady Librarian. Her opinion has never steered me wrong, so I’m hopeful this story will be compelling. I thought it best to arrive in good time in case others were of a similar notion.”
Apparently, they were, Emily decided. The line had increased in length during the brief time in which the woman had spoken. Emily thanked her and moved to the end of the queue where she was able to get a similar opinion from another customer.
Rejoicing at the immediate hint of success the book was getting, she did her best to keep from grinning too much. By the time she entered the bookshop, only a few editions of the book remained. She refrained from taking one for herself since she already had a copy.
Instead, she left the shop with Georgina and headed toward Between the Pages, the bookshop owned by Ada’s uncle. The lovely aroma from the next-door bakery tempted her to stop there first and purchase a bag full of raisin buns. She offered one to Georgina before venturing inside the bookshop. Much like Hatchard’s, it was packed with customers.
Ada’s uncle, Mr. Quinn, was in the process of wrapping an order for one of the many women filling the space.
“Thank you so much,” the woman said when Mr. Quinn handed over her parcel. “Taylor & Jones over on Dean Street was already sold out. I’m so relieved to have found a copy here.”
“I hope you enjoy the story,” Mr. Quinn told her. “And should you wish for it to be properly bound, simply return with your receipt and we’ll give you a discount.”
The lady thanked him and departed.
Leaving Georgina by the door, Emily approached the counter. “I’m happy to lend a hand if you need a break.”
Mr. Quinn’s mouth slanted as he wrapped another copy ofSeductive Scandalin brown paper. “I can’t believe the speed with which this book is selling. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen before. The customers don’t even want to wait for the book to be bound. They just want the pages so they can start reading at once.”
Emily set down her parcel of buns and helped the next lady in line.
“I hope you enjoy the story,” Emily told her.
“Oh, if the hero is anything like Mr. Darcy, I’m sure I’ll love every moment.” The rest of the women who stood behind her voiced their agreement.
Emily chuckled and wished her a pleasant day before helping the next customer with her purchase.
She bid Mr. Quinn farewell a half hour later and walked to Pall Mall. There, she stopped by an additional bookshop before taking a hackney to Westcliffe House. It was not her preferred destination of course, but as a young unmarried woman, she ought not stop by Stratton House without bringing her parents.
