“I heard a rumor that your mum used to do something special in this shop, something…magical,” I said carefully. “Someone told me she used to run a book club out of the back room here. WasPride and Prejudiceone of the books she used?”
I was taking a wild swing here, given I had absolutely no idea if anyof this was true, but I kept my eyes trained on Nick’s face for any sign of recognition at my words. But the pain had gone from his eyes now, replaced by that vague amusement I’d seen earlier.
“Isthatwhy you came back here today? You heard some mad conspiracy theory on the internet about a book club and thought that you’d stolen some—what—enchantedbook?”
He laughed softly at these last two words, and the sympathy I’d had for him a moment ago vanished.
“Are you really telling me it’s just a completely normal, run-of-the-mill copy ofPride and Prejudice?”
Nick faltered, but only for a fraction of a second. “Of course it’s a completely normal copy. Why would you think otherwise?”
I felt a crush of disappointment. Either Nick was lying to my face, which meant I clearly couldn’t trust him, or he genuinely had no idea his mum’s book was magic, in which case he wasn’t going to be able to help me return Darcy. Either way, I was wasting my time.
“No reason,” I said, pulling off my hat and stuffing it back into my bag. “I won’t bother you again. Goodbye.”
Chapter Ten
I left Cecil Court and hurried across Covent Garden to work. Whether or not Nick knew exactly what his mum’s copy ofPride and Prejudicedid, it was clear he didn’t trust me enough to confide in me, which meant I couldn’t trust him either. And given that there were no obvious clues lying around Baskerville Books, I was now back to trying to find the explanation for Darcy’s appearance on my own. My best hope was Lily being able to connect me with this woman who’d asked about the secret book club, as she may well know more about whatever Maggie used to get up to. And in the meantime, I’d keep searching for clues.
When I arrived at Cake Expectations, I found Enzo in the staff room doing his eyeliner in the small, grubby mirror.
“You’re alive!” he shouted. “I wondered if that Mr. Darcy impersonator had kidnapped you.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Did you find out what was wrong with the guy? Was it some kind of psychotic episode?”
“I don’t know, probably,” I said, turning to face my locker in case my face gave away the lie.
“He was so weird. I’ve only met one person with energy like that before, and she was dead.”
I spun back around. “Did you saydead?”
“Mm-hmm,” Enzo said, adding a well-practiced flick to the edge of his eye. “I was at the cinema with my cousin, Lucia; we were watchingInside Out—or maybe it was that film about mutant sharks, I can’t remember. Anyway, I suddenly felt this really cold sensation on my back, like someone had opened a freezer door behind me, and when I looked, I saw a young girl sitting a couple of rows back, laughing at something on-screen, only she was kind of gray and fuzzy. I asked Lucia if she could see her, too, but she just rolled her eyes and told me I was being witchy like Nonna.”
I’d never met Enzo’s Nonna, but I’d heard lots about the woman, a formidable Italian septuagenarian who was the all-powerful matriarch of the family. When Enzo’s parents had reacted badly to his coming out, it had been his grandmother who’d flown over from Sicily to berate them for not supporting their son. She was also the source of Enzo’s spirit medium aspirations, and he often told me stories of her “seeing” abilities.
“And you say the Darcy guy had the same energy as the dead girl?” I said, trying not to wince at the words coming out of my mouth.
“I felt it as soon as he walked in, that same creepy, cold sensation on my skin. I’m not saying the guy was dead, but there was definitely something peculiar about him.”
Peculiar indeed. “Enzo, this is going to sound like a strange question, but hypothetically speaking, have you ever heard of a fictional character coming to life?”
“What, like inEnchanted? I love that film; Amy Adams is a queen.”
“I more meant in real life.”
Enzo arched a perfectly microbladed eyebrow at me. “What are you saying? You think our poor man’s Matthew Macfadyen was the actual Mr. Darcy?”
I gave a shrill laugh. “No, of course not! As I said, it was just a hypothetical question. But I know you’re very sensitive to the spirit world, and I wondered if you’d ever heard of people communicating with characters from books.”
He frowned, tapping the end of the eyeliner pencil against his lips. “I don’t think so, but I wouldn’t rule it out. The veils between worlds are thin, and sometimes there are small tears where spirits can pass through. Nonna was once haunted for six months by the wife of the fishmonger, who’d somehow become trapped in our world and kept screaming at Nonna to tell her husband he needed to water the zucchini.”
Normally when Enzo said things like this, I’d just laugh or dismiss it as mumbo jumbo, but given recent events, I wasn’t in a position to scoff.
“When this happens, how do the spirits get back? Do they ever get stuck here forever?”
“They normally either disappear when whatever unfinished business they have in this world is resolved, or else they find their way back through the tear. So maybe this fictional character of yours should go to the place where they first appeared in our world, in case that’s where the tear is?Hypothetically speaking, of course.”
