15
Aurelia’s mouth gaped open. Where were Lizzy, Jane, and the others? Who were these women?
“If my mother were here, she’d tell you to close your mouth or you’d catch flies,” said a young woman who looked to be about Julia’s age.
Aurelia closed her mouth automatically, then opened it again to speak.
“Who are you?”
“We? Who are you? Why have you locked us inside this place? We demand you arrange our immediate release,” said the woman who had first spoken moments before.
She was older than the other two, perhaps in her fifties, with a haughty look, expensive-looking clothes, and a parasol that she waved around emphatically.
“Well, I’m Aurelia. Aurelia Lyndham. I own this shop.”
“A shopkeeper, of course,” scoffed the third woman, who looked to be in her mid-twenties and had dark hair and eyes. She might have been very pretty if it weren’t for what appeared to be a permanent sneer on her face.
“We won’t be coming back to patronize this establishment, I can assure you,” she continued. “My mother will have this place closed down by the end of the week, you mark my words.”
“Yes, we must ensure no one else is held here against their will,” agreed the older woman.
“Okay,” said Aurelia slowly.
She began walking down the spiral staircase, trying to order her thoughts. New characters usually appeared when she put new books on the Recommended Reads table. Were the books she’d set out for Julia still there? Aurelia side-stepped the women and walked toward it.
“Excuse me a moment, I’ll try and answer your questions, just—” Aurelia fell silent as she looked at the table and confirmed that, yes, the same books were there. “Can I ask, is anyone here from a novel called Pride and Prejudice?”
“That’s my novel,” the youngest woman said possessively, as though Aurelia were claiming it as her own.
“Right. Okay. And are you two from Jane Eyre and Cranford?”
“I am from Jane Eyre, though saying that woman’s name sets my teeth on edge.” This was from the woman in her mid-twenties.
“Oh, are you Blanche?”
In her novel, Blanche had tried to catch Mr. Rochester’s eye before being thrown over for Jane.
“I am,” Blanche said proudly.
“Yes, and I am from Cranford, but I hardly see how that matters. Let us out!” The older woman shoved her parasol at Aurelia, who dodged it, forgetting for a moment that it would only pass through her.
“So, this is all very unusual—I’m sorry. Um… I take it none of you have been here before?”
The women gave Aurelia a collection of exasperated looks.
“No, right—that’s why you’re so upset. So, this is my bookshop, and what happens is, if I set books on that table there”—Aurelia pointed—“then characters from the books appear.”
The women stared at her blankly.
“I know, it’s incredibly awe-inspiring!” Aurelia said excitedly.
She never got tired of explaining how the shop worked to characters who hadn’t visited before, always eager to share with them what she’d had to keep secret from her friends and family.
“I was shocked the first time it happened, but it’s been happening for years. My aunt and great aunt and great-great aunt—”
Aurelia was interrupted mid-sentence as the older woman grew restless.
“Yes, that is all well and good. You come from a long line of incompetent shopkeepers, we understand.”
“Hold on a minute,” Aurelia began. “That’s quite rude.”
“Rude!” snapped Blanche. “Apparently no one taught you manners. Haven’t you ever learned that a hostess must greet her guests? If one can even call you a hostess.”
“Yes, ‘jailor’ seems more apt,” agreed the older woman.
Aurelia became very conscious of Julia, who was hopefully still asleep upstairs. She lowered her voice to signal to the others that they needed to speak in more measured tones.
“Look, I’m not a jailor. I’m sorry you’re unhappy. No one’s ever been upset about showing up here before.”
Aurelia suddenly remembered that there was, in fact, one time when a young female character had told Aurelia to take her book off the table so that she could leave, but they’d worked things out eventually.
And Count Vronsky, too, had asked to leave once—but again, he calmed down and changed his mind.
“The last time I was down here, just two nights ago, I met Jane and Rochester,” Aurelia continued, looking at Blanche. “And I met Lizzy and Darcy,” she said, looking at the younger woman. “And also Matty and Peter. They liked being here and getting to know one another.”
“If you think I’m going to sit down and socialize just because Mr. Rochester thought it was a lark, you are very much mistaken,” seethed Blanche.
“And Lizzy likes all sorts of things that I don’t. Just because we’re sisters doesn’t mean I want to be surrounded by books like her.”
“As for Matty and Peter,” the older woman said, drawing herself up and taking on her most patronizing tone yet.
“They are very dear acquaintances, to be sure, but there is a certain social standing that separates us. In any case, Peter is an eccentric, as you no doubt have noticed. It is hardly surprising he would find this sort of thing amusing, and of course Matty would be happy to go along where he leads. But I am not they.”
“Yes, but who are you?” Aurelia asked, still struggling to place the woman.
“I am Mrs. Jamieson, if you must know.”
Aurelia racked her brain but came up short. Well, it’s someone snooty, anyway, she told herself.
“And your name?” she asked the younger woman.
“Kitty Bennet.”
“Oh, Lizzy’s younger sister!”
“Yes, and Lydia’s older sister, if you must know,” Kitty said, puffing herself up in an apparent imitation of Mrs. Jamieson.
“Alright. Well, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you this evening. I didn’t realize I’d have a new batch of charact—people—to meet. This has never happened before, actually—a sudden change in who’s appeared from the table’s books.”
She looked around, thinking that the women might be interested in the anomaly, but it was clear that thought was misplaced.
“It would be lovely to chat with you and get to know you if you’d like to stay for a bit?” she added hopefully.
“No, thank you. As I said, I should like to return to my home. It is not my habit to pass the time with shopkeepers.”
Aurelia tried not to laugh at Mrs. Jamieson’s dogged snobbery, but it wasn’t easy.
“I agree. It’s time to end this bizarre turn of events and go home,” Blanche said, eyeing the shop with distaste.
“Me too,” Kitty added, though she just seemed to be following the prevailing winds.
“Oh, alright. Um, let me think.”
Aurelia had absolutely no idea what was going on, but she wasn’t quite ready to take their books off the table. What if Lizzy and the others would return the following evening? Maybe this was just a random blip in the shop’s usual workings and it would all be straightened out tomorrow?
“Here’s what we’ll do. I’m going to open the shop door, and then you’ll disappear back into your books.” In response to blank stares, she added, “You’ll go home.”
“Yes, do that at once,” Mrs. Jamieson said, waving her parasol imperiously.
Suppressing a sigh, Aurelia went to the door and opened it as quietly as she could, hoping that the faint tinkle of the bell wouldn’t wake Biscuit and startle him into thinking someone was breaking into the shop. She turned around and stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her.
Through the blinds that covered the door’s glass panes, she spotted three columns of mist rising up, floating across the shop, and disappearing into the three stacks of books on the Recommended Reads table. The light dimmed, and Aurelia let herself back inside, her eyes wide.
“What in the bloody hell just happened?” she wondered aloud.
But, of course, there was no one there to answer her.