Chapter Nine
I had a work shift on Saturday, so after breakfast, I made Darcy pledge an oath on King George III not to touch the oven, the microwave, or my hair straighteners, and reluctantly left him while I went into Cake Expectations.
Although I was fairly confident that he’d spend the day glued to Planet Earth, I still locked the flat door when I left, just to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally wander outside and get lost.
I caught the Tube at Kentish Town station, found a seat, and pulled out my phone to see a message from Bianca.
I paused with my finger over the reply button.
Darcy had now been with me for almost forty-eight hours, and I’d still not told my best friend.
We’d never kept secrets from each other before—I’d even told her about the time I farted so loudly during sex that Crispin thought a chair had fallen over in the next room—so surely I had to tell her about Mr. Darcy, even if I knew she’d make me throw him out of the flat.
I thought back to last night. Darcy was proving to be every bit as kind, steady, and thoughtful in real life as he was in the book; plus, I wasn’t sure the last time I’d slept as deeply or felt as safe, and that was all because of the presence of this man I’d known and trusted for more than half my life.
And so, although I hated keeping a secret from B, was it so terrible that I wanted to enjoy Darcy’s company while I worked out how to get him back home?
I typed a quick laughing emoji in response to the message, trying to ignore the now-familiar guilt gnawing away at me. As I was about to put my phone away, I saw an email notification from someone named Lily Howard.
Hi Zoe! Thanks for your message and for reading my old blog!
I actually stopped writing that years ago—I’m on TikTok these days.
I’m afraid I don’t remember much about Baskerville Books beyond what I wrote in the post. Maggie was super sweet and really funny, but I heard she died a few years after I wrote the post. Her son took over the shop, so you could try talking to him if you have any questions?
Funnily enough, you’re not the first person who’s contacted me about my Baskerville Books post—I’ve had a few people message me over the years asking about it.
Some lady from Canada asked me if I knew anything about a secret romance book club that Maggie apparently used to run out of the back room, but she’d not mentioned it to me.
Sorry I can’t be more help, follow me on @lilyloveslondon x
I felt a flicker of excitement as I got to the end of the message.
For one thing, the fact that other people had messaged Lily about Baskerville Books suggested that I wasn’t the only person who suspected there was something strange going on at that shop.
Also, this news about Maggie’s “secret romance book club” was definitely interesting.
Maybe Maggie had a whole library of magical books that brought their characters to life, and she used to share them with romance readers at the book club?
If that was the case, I needed to speak to someone who’d been, in the hope they could tell me what to do about Mr. Darcy.
I quickly typed another email to Lily asking her if she could forward me these other messages.
I put my phone away and stared out the window as the train pulled into Euston station, my mind whirring with possibilities.
Nick told me he’d destroyed all his mum’s books, but maybe that was a lie to put me off the scent, and he actually still had her magic books hidden somewhere in the shop?
If that was the case, the answer for how to get Darcy back into Pride and Prejudice might be hidden somewhere in Baskerville Books too.
Nick’s glowering face popped into my mind—he’d surely know how to do it, given he’d inherited the shop and its contents from his mum—but I quickly pushed the idea away.
This was a man who refused to sell his own mother’s favorite genre of book and mocked me for being a “Darcy stan,” so there was no way I was asking for his help.
What I really needed was another chance to explore the bookshop without Nick around.
Both times I’d visited, he’d been the only staff member working there, but I assumed there must be other employees; even someone as evil as Nick must have a day off to read dick lit or murder bunnies or whatever he did for fun.
If I could just work out what days Nick wasn’t there, I could visit the shop and have a snoop around without having to explain what I was doing and arouse his suspicions.
I glanced at my watch. It was 9:20 a.m., and I was due at work at ten, but if I hurried, I could probably take a quick diversion via Cecil Court to see if I could spot who was working today.
I got off the Tube at Leicester Square and made my way down Charing Cross Road.
As I turned onto the side street, I could see the front shutters were already open at Baskerville Books, so I retrieved an old baseball cap I kept in my bag for bad hair days and pulled it on low to disguise my face.
I slowed my pace as I reached the shop, trying to surreptitiously glance through the front door.
I could just make out the counter at the back and, behind it, a young woman with bright-pink hair.
Did this mean Nick wasn’t working right now?
And if so, should I take this opportunity to have a snoop around, given I might not get this opportunity again?
Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The young woman looked up as the bell rang and gave me a half smile. Her arms were covered in tattoos, and she had a book open in front of her on the desk.
“Hi,” I said, trying to deepen my voice in case Nick was in the back and could hear me. “I was wondering if the owner’s here?”
I bit my lip, praying he wouldn’t overhear my question and suddenly appear.
“I’m afraid Nick’s not in this morning. Can I help you with anything?” the woman said, and I had to stop myself from grinning. Bingo!
“No, it’s fine, thanks. I’ll just have a browse.”
She nodded and returned to the book in front of her, and I crossed to the nearest bookcase.
The coast was clear, but the question now was, what the hell was I looking for?
It wasn’t like there was going to be a reference book entitled How to Return Fictional Characters to Their Stories sitting on the shelf—but still, there might be something here that hinted at how Maggie’s magical book worked.
My eyes scanned the shelves, but as Nick had said himself, there wasn’t a single romance novel for sale.
Why did he hate them so much? Was he really such a misanthrope that he refused to sell them simply because of “the lie of the happy-ever-after,” as he’d told me the first time I came in?
No, it had to be more complicated than that.
Perhaps he’d been so scarred by his mum’s death that he couldn’t bear to be around the books she’d loved.
I reread my mum’s favorite books so I could feel close to her, but I could imagine a state of grief where someone had the opposite reaction.
If that was the case, I couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for Nick, even if he was a moody arse.
I carried on browsing the shelves, but it soon became apparent I was wasting my time.
Everything about this bookshop seemed completely normal, and aside from the lack of romance novels, there was actually an excellent, thoughtful selection of books from authors around the globe.
However much I wanted to hate him, it was clear Nick had good taste.
Which was all very well, but didn’t help me in my hunt for answers about getting Darcy home.
“Are you looking for something in particular?”
I turned around to see the pink-haired girl watching me from behind the counter. I was about to say no when a thought occurred to me. Nick might not want to talk about whatever his mum had been up to here, but maybe this woman would?
“Do you have India Holton’s new book in?” I asked.
“I’m afraid not. Foyles or Waterstones will probably have it in stock, though.”
“I see you don’t have any romance books on the shelves. Is there a reason for that?” I asked the question as innocently as I could, but I still saw a wary flash in the woman’s eyes.
“It’s the personal choice of the shop owner.
I only work here two mornings a week, so I don’t have anything to do with stock-purchasing.
” There was a slight edge in her voice that told me this was a question she’d been asked before, and she had her answer prepared to cut customers off before they could start complaining.
“That’s such a shame. I heard this shop used to be a mecca for romance readers. I wonder why it changed?” OK, so this was a massive long shot, but the shop assistant refused to rise to my bait, her face remaining politely neutral.
“I’m afraid I don’t know; I only started working here last year.”
Damn. It was clear I wasn’t going to get anything from her.
I glanced over the woman’s shoulder toward the door that I assumed led to the back room.
Lily’s email had said that was where Maggie’s secret book club used to take place, so maybe I’d find some answers in there?
But how to get past the pink-haired sales assistant who gave off strong don’t-mess-with-me vibes.
What I needed was something to distract her so I could slip past.
At that moment, as if in answer to my prayers, I heard the bell above the door ring as another customer came in. Maybe this person would require her help so I could—
“Morning, Kat, how’s it going?”
Oh, SHIT! I hurriedly pulled the brim of my cap down lower, hoping with all my heart I was mistaken.
“Hey, Nick, you all right?” the pink-haired woman said, and I almost groaned. So, not mistaken, then. I needed to get out of here before Nick realized who I was and why I was here, but he was currently standing between me and the door.
“I just wanted to drop off these flyers for the event next Wednesday,” Nick said, his deep voice growing nearer as he moved past me.
I stayed still, my eyes fixed on the floor so he wouldn’t see my face. With any luck, he’d go into the back room and then I could escape.
“This customer came in asking for you,” the woman said.
What? No! I held my breath, mentally willing Nick to ignore me and carry on with what he was doing, but even with my head down and the cap blocking my view, I could sense him stopping behind the counter.
“Can I help you?”
Oh crap, what was I meant to say? Maybe I could put on a fake accent and hope he didn’t recognize me? No, that was ridiculous—of course he’d recognize someone who’d stolen his mum’s magic book. I should just turn around and make a run for the door before he could stop me and hope—
“If the hat’s meant to be a disguise, I’m afraid it’s not working. You should have gone for a fake mustache instead.”
I snapped my head up to see Nick’s bright-blue eyes fixed on my face, his expression a mixture of amusement, confusion, and something else I couldn’t quite place.
“Kat, would you mind taking these flyers out the back and sorting them into six bundles, please?” he said to the pink-haired girl, still not taking his eyes off me.
“Sure thing,” Kat said, picking up the box. “Shout if you need me.”
She disappeared through the door, leaving Nick and me alone. He was the first to speak.
“Not that it isn’t lovely to see a return customer—albeit one who steals from me—but can I ask why you’re here, in a crap disguise, the one morning I’m not working?”
Argh, what was I supposed to say now? Should I make up some excuse about trying to find a dick lit book for an elderly male relative, or should I bite the bullet and tell him the truth?
Nick clearly hated Darcy, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wouldn’t be willing to help me get him back into the book if he knew how.
And given that I had no other proper leads at this point, maybe I should swallow my pride and ask for help.
But if I was going to put Darcy’s fate in this man’s hands, I had to make sure I could trust him.
I cleared my throat. “I need you to tell me the truth, Nick. Is there something unusual about that copy of Pride and Prejudice?”
For the first time since he’d spotted me here, Nick’s eyes snapped away from my face. “Why do you ask that?”
“Last time I came in, you told me I should destroy it. Why would you want me to do that if it’s just an ordinary book?”
Nick didn’t say anything, and I found myself silently begging him to tell me the truth so I could finally talk to someone about Darcy. His eyes had settled on the countertop between us, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet.
“When I lost my mum, I destroyed all her personal books. I know that might not make sense to anyone else, but I just found being around them too painful. So when I saw you with her old copy of Pride and Prejudice the other day, it threw me completely. I thought Mum’s books had all gone years ago, and it hurt me to realize one had been sitting on the shelves all this time. ”
Nick’s eyes flicked back to mine, and I saw genuine anguish behind that icy blue.
The poor man—he really was still grieving.
Not that I blamed him; I still felt the raw pain ten years after I’d lost my mum.
Yet something told me he still wasn’t being entirely honest. His mum’s book wasn’t just an ordinary copy of Pride and Prejudice, and he had to know that, so why wasn’t he telling me?
“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. Was Pride and Prejudice one of the books she used?”
I was taking a wild swing here, given I had absolutely no idea if any of 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.
“Is that why 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—enchanted book?”
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 of Pride 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.”