12
Aurelia got very little sleep that night.
She was too nervous to go back downstairs to join the characters in case Julia might come down to find her again.
Yet her mind was much too preoccupied for her to go back to bed, so she sat on the sofa—in the dark—thinking.
Occasionally she nodded off for a bit before jolting back awake as questions hounded her, just like they had when she’d first seen the characters herself.
Had she only dreamt that Julia had seen them?
No, she was certain that Julia had been in the shop, seen them all gathered there, and even talked to Jane.
What did it mean? Oliver had never been able to see the characters; each time he’d come into the shop after midnight, they had disappeared the second he stepped inside.
So why Julia? Was it because she was family, a descendant of the shop’s founder, Cristobel?
Or was it because Julia would own the shop one day?
If Aurelia told her that the Jane Rochester she had met really was Jane Rochester, would Julia even believe her?
If Aurelia decided to lay all her cards on the table, what would it take to convince Julia?
And if—when—Julia told Antonia, what then?
The answer to all her questions seemed simple.
She would have to tell Julia that what she’d seen had been a dream.
It was a lie, and a cruel one since it meant making Julia believe she was imagining things, but it seemed the safest way forward.
Another lie to another person she loved…
They’d been stacking up for so long, ever since she’d discovered the shop’s secret, that Aurelia should be used to them by now.
But the pile was getting so big that she felt the weight of every single one of them.
But the truth—that Julia really had met Jane Rochester, that the others were all characters from the same books that sat on her nightstand at that very moment—seemed far too complicated.
Julia was too young to keep a secret like that, too young to appreciate that she shouldn’t go shouting about the shop’s magic from the rooftops when they’d never be able to prove it.
Aurelia was going to tell Oliver soon, and she and Julia might eventually be able to tell Antonia if the shop’s magic really did extend to family (even though several characters had told Aurelia that it didn’t), but that was all; only a small circle of people could ever know.
Meanwhile, anyone else wouldn’t believe them, and might even be concerned if Julia were to insist loudly enough.
That was it, then; when Julia was old enough, when she was ready to take over the shop and mature enough to keep the secret, Aurelia would tell her. In the meantime, telling her the truth just wasn’t an option.
When Julia emerged from her room that morning, Aurelia was showered and dressed with a bright smile plastered on her face.
“Good morning! How’d you sleep?”
“Fine,” Julia mumbled. “Can I have coffee this morning?”
“No—your mum told me you’re not allowed. But the kettle’s still hot if you want tea.”
Julia narrowed her eyes, then gave up the battle before it had begun and walked over to the kettle.
“How are you so chipper?” she asked Aurelia.
“I slept well last night.”
“You did? Even after your late-night book club?”
“My what?”
Aurelia tried for an innocent tone, feeling anything but.
Even though she’d thought it through and was following her plan, it felt worse than she’d imagined to put it into action.
Lying to Oliver about how she spent her nights hadn’t been easy, but she rarely had to surface those lies anymore since he’d accepted her stories about going down to the shop at night to write.
Now, seeing Julia’s trusting face and knowing she believed implicitly that her aunt would tell her the truth…
It was a fresh reminder of how much it hurt to lie to someone she loved, even when she believed the lie was necessary to protect them both.
“Your book club, or whatever it was,” Julia went on. “Aren’t you tired after being up so late?”
“I’m not in a book club. What do you mean?”
“Last night—I came down to the shop and people were there in, like, old-fashioned clothes. And you said it was a book club or something.”
Julia gave Aurelia a curious look, as though unsure whether Aurelia had forgotten.
“Sounds like a very interesting dream,” Aurelia said, looking impressed. “A costumed book club? I should consider that for the shop.”
“But I saw it last night. I saw you and the others.”
“I was in bed all night, Julia. I didn’t hear you get up, either. You must have been dreaming.”
What a terrible aunt, Aurelia thought miserably. I’ll be lucky if she ever forgives me for this.
“I’m sure I wasn’t,” Julia said, looking confused.
“Well, I was out like a light. And I don’t like the idea of having people in the shop late at night when I need my beauty sleep. Especially with the wedding around the corner.” Her tone was light, in spite of her heavy heart.
“I swear… You were on the window seat, talking to Jane Rochester.”
“What, like Jane Eyre? I’m glad to see the book is sinking in, then.”
Julia stared at Aurelia, as though waiting for her to break down and admit that it had all happened just as Julia had described it. Aurelia held firm and kept a smile plastered on her face.
“Huh. It seemed really real. Like it really happened.”
“I’ve had dreams like that before. They can be hard to shake, but I bet as the day goes on, it’ll seem less real and more like a sign of an active subconscious.” Aurelia took a sip of tea and then added, “A subconscious that’s telling you to keep reading Jane Eyre.”
Julia grumbled and took her tea into the bathroom, giving Aurelia a chance to close her eyes and catch her breath.
Eyes open once again, she exhaled, believing she’d convinced Julia.
She felt moderately relieved to know that Julia wasn’t upset about Aurelia’s insistence that it had been a dream, but she still had those lingering questions about how it had all happened in the first place.