Chapter Thirty-Two #3
Lillian accepted a glass and lifted it in Eleanor’s direction.
“I was just telling Eleanor that we must focus on the future. You and I have settled into new work now. It is time for her. There must be no more wallowing.” She pinned Eleanor with a demanding stare.
“What do you plan to do with your life?”
In an effort to hide her nerves, Eleanor scrunched and released her toes twice. They would notice any other physical manifestation of her worry, and then she’d face questioning on two fronts—details of her plan and why she was afraid to tell them.
Truthfully, she was afraid because her idea might not pan out. If she revealed nothing, then she’d never have to embarrass herself by telling them she’d failed.
But she’d been kept in the dark about Lillian’s plans for only a week and it had stung. Hiding such a huge endeavor would be an egregious betrayal. Besides, she had to commit to this newfound faith that if she failed, those she loved would not turn their back on her.
She took a deep and steadying breath. “Actually, I have the beginnings of a plan. It is not fully formed and I have no idea how to bring it to fruition, but the thought of it brings me joy.” She reached into the basket and pulled out a package wrapped in newspaper.
“Here.” She handed it to Mabel, who tore it open.
“Oh, Eleanor. This is beautiful.” She ran her hands over the sky-blue silk that Eleanor had glued to the cover of Emma. Rose-colored lace covered each of the corners.
“Imagine the title is embossed and leafed in real gold.” She’d not had gold leaf tucked away in her trunks, so the gold lamé yoke she’d unpicked from an ill-fitting dress stood in place of it. “There are artists out there who can paint the edges so that the image shifts as the paper bends.”
Lillian took the book from Mabel. “Eleanor, is this the dress you wore to Josephine’s Christmas party three years ago?”
“It was. It’s not anymore.” There had been some guilt as she took scissors to her favorite dresses.
Another woman could have worn them and felt beautiful, but by repurposing them this way, she could take her beloved rainbow with her.
She could picture it now—her books turned into artworks.
Her shelves organized by color. Who cared how long it would take to find a specific novel when the rest of the time it would be so lovely to look at?
“I need you to tell us more about this plan,” Mabel said, snatching the book back from Lillian and turning it over and over.
Nervousness became excitement. If complete strangers reacted like Mabel, then maybe her plan might succeed.
“I am going to start my own publishing company. It just won’t be like anyone else’s.
” It would be an homage to a lost art. Everything would be handmade; every step would use methods from before the invention of the rotary press.
She could pick up old machinery for a song and employ true artisans.
“Can you make money from it?” Mabel asked, chewing on her lip. “It is a lovely idea, but the world is changing. You will be vying with books that cost only a penny.”
That was the unknown variable. She would buy such editions. Her crafting method would add value. Charly would sell them in his store. But how much would other people spend, and would it be enough?
“There are still some questions that need answering. I will talk to Lady Wharton this evening. If I were to have customers, it would be people like her. Her thoughts will tell me if it’s viable.
And I would need to find the money.” She needed an investor.
This was not something she could do on her own. Not yet.
Mabel reached into her purse. “Perhaps this will help.” She handed Eleanor and Lillian each an envelope. “Mr. Bell asked me to pass these on to you. They are severance checks.”
Lillian’s confused expression no doubt mirrored Eleanor’s. “I thought they’d refused to give severance packages. They were very adamant.”
Mabel shrugged. “They changed their minds.”
Lillian tore her envelope open, her eyes widening in surprise. “This is a surprising about-face. I can’t believe it’s out of the goodness of their hearts.”
Mabel took a sip of lemonade. “Brendan said the same thing yesterday… when we met for dinner.”
“Mabel!” Lillian’s voice rose half an octave. “Since when have you been seeing Brendan Wiles?”
Mabel grinned, clearly pleased at how well she’d surprised them.
“Since he came to The Times to get his check. We got to speaking. I’d never thought he could be interested in someone like me.
But I’m a compositor now. I am his equal, and Jessica insisted I approach him to say hello.
We are going for dinner again next week. ”
The part of Eleanor that was listening was bursting with joy.
Mabel was getting the happy ending she’d been yearning for.
However, most of her attention was firmly on the line of zeros in front of her.
The check was for an enormous sum. It would keep her afloat for months, longer if she was frugal, especially once she’d moved into the boardinghouse.
It would buy her the time needed to pursue her idea without resorting to becoming a governess or secretary.
“Do we think Zoo Man is also responsible for those?” Mabel asked, gesturing to the checks. “Brendan thinks Mr. Bell would never have done it without a strong incentive.”
Eleanor swallowed. “It could be Peter, I suppose.” He had said that he would make amends. Whether he’d written the checks himself or simply strong-armed The Times was neither here nor there.
Mabel pressed her lemonade glass to her lips, studying Eleanor closely. “Zoo Man appears not to be the devil we thought, doesn’t he?”
Lillian also pierced Eleanor with a stare. “He does not. In fact, he seems rather the opposite. Don’t you think, Eleanor?”
She swallowed. “He does seem to be the opposite.” It was time to confess. Maybe they could tell her what to do. “Peter and I have seen much of each other this past week.”
Mabel’s eyes widened. She put aside her drink and grabbed Eleanor’s hands. “Have you come to your senses and fallen madly in love with him?”
“Madly in love” was an overstatement. But she had fallen in like with him.
Deeply, deeply, in like. It was a confusing “like” mixed in with an almost unbearable attraction, and an extraordinary amount of respect.
That he had gone to such lengths to see to Lillian’s welfare might have just tipped it over into something more than like. Maybe it was love. She couldn’t tell.
“I do not know exactly what I feel for Peter.”
Lillian huffed and slathered jam on a roughly cut slice of bread, but Mabel was not dissuaded. “What does he feel for you? It must be something. He’s gone to great lengths to impress you.”
Had he, though? He’d taken pains to hide his atonement from her.
Had Lillian not been a terrible liar and Brendan not suggested that Peter was behind the severance checks, then she would never have known of his good work.
If impressing her was the objective, it was not particularly well thought through and she couldn’t imagine that he would make such an error.
But then… “We’ve kissed,” she admitted. She would kiss him again if she could. “But I’m not certain what it means.”
Mabel gasped, her curls bounced giddily as she clapped. “That is superb. Was it wonderful?”
Eleanor dropped her head into her hands.
“It was.” She’d not been able to stop thinking of it.
Last night, she’d tossed and turned. Instead of sleeping, she’d lain there imagining what it would be like to do more than kiss him.
She’d remembered the touch of his hand on her back and fantasized about the way it might trail down her skin.
She’d thought of the first time they’d danced and how easily he’d kept her in rhythm and wondered what other rhythms they might find together.
Only the percussor had allowed her to get any shut-eye.
Then she’d woken up, thinking of the Captain, a half-penned letter in her mind already.
She didn’t know who she wanted to tell her idea to first: the Captain, with whom she shared all the colorful, hopeful, dreamy bits of her, or Peter, the man who challenged her and without whom she would never have had the courage to attempt such a thing.
Peter or the Captain? The Captain or Peter? Neither? Both?
Mabel squealed. “You could be a duchess. Imagine that, our best friend, suddenly the crème de la crème.”
If Eleanor had been foolish enough to let fantasies of Peter effervesce, those words would have been the oil that smothered them.
How could she possibly be a duchess? Men like Peter didn’t marry women like her.
It wasn’t the done thing. It would be unwise to let these feelings for Peter grow.
“I could not be a duchess. I am not ton.”
Lillian tilted her head. “Do we think he cares about that? He doesn’t seem like a man who is beholden to the opinions of others. He did go into trade, after all.”
“That’s true.” Mabel wagged a finger. “And you don’t care about that, surely. If anyone is unkind, couldn’t you simply sit with Lady Wharton and her friends?”
Eleanor didn’t care a whit for the ton’s approval and she enjoyed Agatha’s company. But it was not that simple. “Peter loves his sisters and he would not expose them to scandal.”
“Well, that is a legitimate concern,” Mabel said, swatting at a fly that had appeared the moment the jam jar had been opened. “But if they loved him back, wouldn’t they want to see him married to a woman he loves? I hardly think you should make that decision on their behalf.”
Eleanor’s heart pounded. “I did not say that either of us was in love.”
Lillian didn’t let the fact that she’d just taken a bite of her sandwich stop her from arguing. “But you are deeply in like with him,” she said, her voice muffled.
Eleanor nodded. “Yes, but it is not just that our social standing is so different.”
Lillian frowned, but her second bite had been too big for her to ask what other problem existed.
Mabel didn’t need to ask. She gasped and her hand flew to her lips. “Ohhhhhhh. It’s the Captain. Where does he stand in all of this?”
Eleanor dropped her head into her hands.
“I am deeply in like with him too.” It was such a mess.
How had she gone from happily having no interest in any man to being besotted with two?
Mabel tsked, and rubbed Eleanor’s shoulder.
Lillian was more practical, handing Eleanor a sandwich with extra jam.
When Eleanor was sure she could face them without her face flushing, she raised her head.
“Am I terrible because I cannot choose one over the other?”
They shook their heads vehemently. “No. It is entirely understandable,” Lillian said. “Each of them suits you well, just in different ways. It is a difficult decision to make.”
Mabel sighed. “It would be lovely if you could have both of them.”
“Mabel!” Lillian tossed a napkin, which Mabel caught and threw back.
“Not both at the same time! Or even at different times. What I mean to say is that it would be lovely if they could be one and the same. One body. Both men.”
That would be the perfect solution; she’d even dreamed about it.
But it was so, so unlikely. Unlikely to the point that hoping for it was worthy of Bedlam.
Eleanor confiscated both napkins and put them behind her.
“They are two men in two bodies, and it’s useless to wish otherwise.
I must be realistic. It seems far more likely that the Captain and I would have a future together, don’t you think? Peter is a duke.”
She didn’t know exactly what the Captain’s social status was, but unless he was a prince, he was a much more realistic life partner.
Lillian shrugged. “Unless the Captain is in prison following whatever it was that detained him that night. We never ruled it out and it would certainly stand in the way of a future together.”
Eleanor sighed. “He is not in prison.”
Mabel waved her hand. “We need to ignore titles and potential criminal records. You kissed Zoo Man, and you liked it. You deeply like him. You also deeply like Letter Man, but the two of you haven’t met, let alone kissed, and so you cannot make up your mind.”
“Precisely.” It was an impossible situation.
Mabel raised her glass. “Well then, you cannot make an informed choice until you kiss the Captain, too. That must be our next step. Cheers to all the kissing.”
“Agreed,” Lillian added. “So, how do we go about making that happen?”
Dear Captain,
I think it’s time we meet. Don’t you?
Dear Booklover,
Yes.