Chapter Three
Edith jerked awake, blinking in the dimness. Not true darkness; the pale blue-grey light before dawn had crept into her room when night was nearly spent, but the sun had yet to rise.
Rolling onto her back, she stared at the ceiling far above her. Shapes swirled, probably the bulbous curves of fruit, vegetables, and flowers. However, she couldn’t see any of it without her spectacles.
All that work, and all that dusting, and I can’t even see it, she thought wryly, biting back a smile. People don’t tend to look up in any case.
From what she had seen, Barendale Manor was the sort of showy, elaborate place that one might read about in a novel.
Doubtless, it would have looked impressive if it had not fallen into disrepair.
Corners of the ceiling were dusty and cobwebby.
Chandeliers hung at an angle, decorated with spiders and their webs.
Brass fixtures were as dull and unpolished as wood, grime accumulated beneath furniture legs, and so on.
She wondered why it had been left in such disrepair.
The duke had not struck her as a disorganized sort of man.
There were stories about him back in London, of course.
Stories of his father’s madness and his brother’s strange and untimely death.
They called him the Beast in London, as the coachman had informed her, and Cate was not received into many families on account of her brother.
He did not look much like Cate, with her blonde good looks.
No, the duke was a tall, sturdy sort of man, with shoulders and a muscled chest that looked impressive even beneath his demure layers of clothing.
His figure seemed more suited to a farm labourer than a duke, and certainly his wide hands were not like anything she’d seen on a gentleman before.
She hadn’t expected a dandy, of course, and the Duke of Barendale certainly was not such a thing.
His clothes were serviceable, his cravat simply tied, and his black hair was combed back in a practical style.
She had not expected him to be handsome. And he was handsome, with a strong jaw, powerful profile, and a pair of sharp, glittering eyes. His eyes were the same as Cate’s, clear and blue, drooping just a little at the outward corners, making the owner of the said eyes appear almost sleepy.
There was nothing sleepy about the duke, that was clear. The man never seemed to blink, and every time that gaze of his raked over her, Edith could not help but feel that he was pulling out all of her secrets, one by one.
But that did not matter. He’d made it clear that she was to leave him alone, which no doubt meant that he would leave her alone, and that was perfect.
Well, I had better get up and do battle with the dust and chaos in that library.
There are probably not enough servants to manage a house like this, Edith thought, swinging back the covers and getting out of bed.
She was supposed to wait for Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, to bring her to breakfast and then take her to the library, but why wait when she could just go there herself?
Cate had shown her the door to the library last night, and Edith was sure that she could find her way there again.
She dressed quickly, washing in cool water left out for her in the jug beside the washbasin. Her mind spun, taut with excitement.
How long has it been since I got my hands on some real books?
Too long, no doubt. Well, it didn’t matter now, because she was here, and for the next month at least, she would be able to eat well, and sleep soundly at night without wondering if she would have a bed for the next night.
And she’d have company, of course. There’d be Cate.
While Cate hadn’t fallen so far and so fast through Society like Edith had, she certainly knew how hard it could be to have people look at one in that way. Pitying and contemptuous, all at once.
Disdainful.
Oh, Edith knew how to interpret those looks.
Before Papa’s ruin was complete, and before she had to leave Society, she had attended one or two small, informal gatherings.
People had looked at her out of the corner of their eyes, whispering behind their hands.
Some of those whispers had, inevitably, made their way to her ears.
“Didn’t you hear? Her father left her penniless, beyond penniless, actually. Everything has gone to pay his debts. She hasn’t a bean.”
“Why is she here?”
“Heaven knows. Hoping to make a desperate, last-minute match, I daresay. As if anybody would have her now.”
Edith had wanted nothing more than to round on the gossips and bellow at them.
“This could be your fate,” she wanted to scream.
“Do you think you can stop your father, husband, brother, or any man who controls your life from spending every penny of his fortune? You cannot force him to care for you, to provide for you. He can do as he likes with his money, even if it was once yours. He can do as he likes with you, and you won’t find out until it’s too late. ”
She hadn’t said that, of course. It would have seen her ejected unceremoniously from whatever event she was reluctantly attending. Shortly after, the invitations had stopped coming, and frankly, it was a relief. It wasn’t as though she had anything to wear, anyway.
Pausing to button up the back of her plain gown, Edith cast a quick, disinterested glance at herself in the mirror. There she was, in all her plain and ordinary glory. Dull brown hair, an uninspiring gray dress, a simple hairstyle, and to finish it… spectacles.
No wonder I couldn’t make a match to save my life.
That was probably for the best, though. Gentlemen had a horror of bluestockings, and of course, Edith squarely was such a woman.
Poking out her tongue at her reflection, Edith slipped out of her room and into the gloomy corridor beyond.
She passed a servant, a housemaid carrying a duster, and the woman eyed her inquisitively.
No doubt the servants were unsure as to whether she was another servant or a guest. Edith smiled at the woman, who smiled uncertainly back.
“Could you tell Mrs. Reynolds that I have found my own way to the library? I shouldn’t like her to have a wasted trip to my room only to find that I am not there.”
The maid nodded curiously, and they parted ways. Edith went on, trotting through corridors and hallways of varying length and down several velvet-carpeted staircases. At last, she found herself in the wide, drafty hallway which ended in a tall, rounded doorway.
The library.
Letting out a long sigh, she reached out and twisted the doorknob, pushing open the door.
As expected, a plume of dust swirled out, making her cough. She stepped inside hastily and closed the door behind her.
She had expected gloom, but already light was streaming through wide, high windows. Not sunlight yet, of course, but enough of that greyish predawn light to let her get a look around. Blinking, her eyes adjusted, stinging in the swirling dust.
“Oh,” Edith breathed aloud. “It’s beautiful.”
The library was perhaps the biggest space she had ever seen, including Lady Champers’ ballroom.
There were two stories, and on the ground floor, shelves covered the walls, reaching up to the ceiling.
A brass ring circled the shelves, with several rolling ladders attached to it.
On the upper floor, there were similar ladders.
Chairs were scattered here and there, each covered in a thick layer of dust. Two fireplaces offered to heat the room, although she would have guessed that they had not been used in a long time.
How many books were here? She could not have guessed.
Thousands and thousands. In places, the volumes were piled up on the bare floor, creating little hillocks of paper.
Some had been carelessly piled with some of their pages creased or covers torn.
However, there were empty shelves here and there, and one bookshelf had toppled over entirely.
Stepping closer to the shelves, she saw that there was no rhyme or reason to the way the books had been organized.
Poetry and historical books were jumbled together, a book on phrenology placed directly next to Lord Byron.
It seemed that just about any book in the world could be found here, if one only knew where to look. Swallowing down her awe at the sheer volume of the place, Edith forced herself to look around properly, taking in the finer details.
When the sun is out, light will come straight through that window and onto the shelves, she thought, frowning.
A number of shelves would have to be moved.
She guessed that they had been thrown up quickly to house the growing number of books in the library, but placed without any thought to their location.
Well, never mind. That is what I am here for. I shall draw up a plan, and have dedicated sections. History, philosophy, the sciences, fiction, poetry, and so on.
But there was no getting around the fact that every single book would have to be taken off the shelves, catalogued, and replaced.
Papa’s library never got this bad, she thought, a lump forming in her throat. He would never have allowed it. His books were precious to him.
There was no time to think of Papa, though, or of herself. The present was what mattered now. There was work to be done. As the duke had hinted, this was indeed an enormous task.
But I can do it, she reminded herself, with a surge of delight. I know that I can.
All those books! Frowning, Edith took a step forward, crouching down to pick up a large, leather-bound tome from the ground. The leather was cracking along the spine, and the front cover was faded from the sun.
What a pity. Such a beautiful book, but now it may need to be rebound.
Well, that was her job to arrange, was it not?