Chapter Ten
Tess wasn’t sure she wanted to go on a second date with some bloke from a book who wasn’t Darcy.
She’d tried hard to think of a likely candidate from a novel whose author had been dead for seventy years. But she and the Romance Girlies, who still preferred contemporary romcoms and romantasy – the smuttier the better – despite their brief flirtation with the classics, kept coming up blank.
Tess, however, loved a good Regency romance. But even her beloved Georgette Heyer (she’d inherited her grandmother’s complete collection) had only been dead just over fifty years, which was very inconsiderate of her. Meanwhile, the Victorians were so gloomy and consumptive.
She’d wondered about picking another Austen hero. Maybe Mr Knightley from Emma or Persuasion’s Captain Wentworth, but she really wanted to save herself for the main Austen event, Mr Darcy.
It wasn’t just that she couldn’t come up with a suitable candidate. It was also the prospect of being rejected again by a man who wasn’t even real; Tess wasn’t sure that her ego could take it.
However, she did want to write another article for Sarah. Even more than that, she really wanted to see Gabriel Sharma again. They’d exchanged a series of terse emails to arrange her second date, and she couldn’t wait to be icily dignified in his presence.
‘Babes, I love you, but you have never been icily dignified, not once in your life,’ Jay said with an affectionate eye roll as they parted company outside The Sentinel offices. Jay off to a dinner at a swanky restaurant for the launch of a new range of male skincare and Tess to walk to the library.
At least she’d get her steps in, so even if the date proved to be a disaster, the evening wouldn’t be completely wasted.
The streets were crowded with the usual pavement drinkers, all laughing and flirting and generally giving the impression that they were having a wonderful time.
Tess hoped desperately that she too would have a wonderful time that evening but who could blame her heart for sinking when she saw a figure waiting for her on the library steps?
‘Just kill me now,’ she muttered under her breath as she drew closer so she could see the supercilious expression on Gabe Sharma’s face. Though really, did his face have any other kind of expression? Tess had yet to discover if he could feel any other emotion apart from superiority.
‘Here you are on the dot of eight,’ he announced with some surprise once Tess had reached his side, as if he’d read the emails from Claire where she’d complained about what she called Tess’s ‘shoddy timekeeping’.
Claire was a big believer in the saying, ‘Early is on time, on time is late’.
Tess wasn’t. On time was on time as far as she was concerned.
‘Punctuality is the politeness of princes,’ Tess said.
‘Actually, I think you’ll find that it’s “Punctuality is the politeness of kings”,’ he said.
‘No, it can be either one. But I prefer princes. I love alliteration.’
That earned her another look of surprise like he hadn’t expected Tess to know such a long word or what it meant.
‘I think not,’ Gabe said firmly, his arm barring Tess’s way as she tried to push past him and open the door. ‘Before you enter the library, I have to insist that you read the library rules.’
‘Really?’ He was the most pompous man. A stuffy jobsworth in a hot nerd’s body.
‘Really.’ He thrust a piece of paper at Tess.
At least it was just the one piece of paper and not a laminated and bound book of rules.
Tess skimmed her eyes over the contents. ‘OK, done that,’ she said, trying to hand the paper back to him.
‘Read it again,’ he ordered. ‘And sign it.’
‘Oh my God,’ Tess said. She was clenching her jaw so hard that it might never return to its usual relaxed setting. Was any article worth this much grief? Probably not.
She had to dig out a pen and the romcom that she was currently reading from the depths of her bag so she’d have something to rest on while she signed the rules with an angry flourish. Then she shoved them at Gabe.
With a patronising little smile, he held the door open for her. How was it that he could even weaponise that polite gesture?
The door had barely shut behind them, Tess had only taken one step forward, when he asked in a weary voice, ‘So, who’s it to be then?’ Then before Tess could even answer. ‘Not Darcy.’
‘I know not Darcy,’ she snapped, moving past him to walk down the hall into the library.
Her memory hadn’t done it justice. It was such a beautiful space.
There was something about stepping foot into that huge, hallowed room full of books that instantly calmed Tess.
Or half calmed her. ‘You only mentioned it in every email that you sent.’
‘I just wanted to be sure that we were on the same page,’ Gabe said, which was never going to happen. How could it when they didn’t even read the same books?
Tess was still no nearer to making an informed choice about that evening’s entertainment. Aware of Gabe now leaning against the edge of the Loans Desk, practically twitching in irritation, she tried to harness her thoughts.
‘The whole copyright thing is really stifling my vibes,’ she mused out loud. ‘I was thinking about Gilbert Blythe from Anne of Green Gables but he’s too young. Then I was thinking about Vronsky from Anna Karenina. That’s meant to be one of the great love stories, isn’t it?’
Not that Tess had read it all the way through. She’d started it three times, but all those Russian surnames. The long waffly bits about farming and religion. No thank you.
She wasn’t going to share that with Gabe. He already seemed to think that she was an empty-headed creature governed by her heart. Which was maybe half right, but unbelievably, both his posture and stern expression softened.
‘Trust me on this, don’t go for any character from Russian literature,’ he warned Tess.
‘Quite intense?’ she asked and he nodded. That might even have been a faint smile breaking through. More likely, it was a trick of the light.
‘Miserable and melancholic. Yes, I know that I don’t read novels, but I did try to read Anna Karenina once. It completely defeated me and I’ve read Hegel in the original German,’ he said and at last, they had something in common.
‘Too much farming?’
‘So much farming,’ Gabe agreed and he smiled properly this time and it was like the sun peeking through a dark, stormy sky with the promise of balmy days ahead.
Tess smiled back. Maybe in her next piece she’d promote him from assistant to deputy head librarian. Then he stopped smiling, but even as he assumed his usual long-suffering look, there seemed to be a twinkle in his dark eyes.
‘So, the Russians are off the table but I do like a man who broods. A little intensity is manageable. What about Edward Rochester from Jane Eyre?’
‘You’ve done your research?’ Gabe asked sharply like he was about to interrogate her on the complexities of Rochester’s character and what it said about the portrayal of masculinity in Victorian literature.
In which case, he was going to be very disappointed. Tess shrugged. ‘I’ve read Jane Eyre a couple of times. Not lately though. I’m more of an Austen girl than a Bronte stan.’
‘Well, if you’re absolutely certain, I’ll fetch the book,’ Gabe said and as he walked away, Tess was sure that he muttered something which sounded a lot like, ‘It’s your funeral.’
Tess hoped he didn’t mean that literally. ‘He’s a tough crowd,’ she said to the woman behind the desk, who looked up from her card index.
She was about Tess’s age and was wearing all black in a cute bookish, gamine kind of way like Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face.
She had an excellent fringe too, which framed her elfin features.
‘Gabe? He used to be my tutor at uni. His bark is worse than his bite.’ She chewed the end of her pencil thoughtfully.
‘Except if you hadn’t done the set reading then his bite was pretty ferocious too. ’
‘Luckily, he hasn’t made me do any set reading. Though I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that he plans to make Love Library borrowers submit an essay justifying their choices.’
The woman grinned. ‘Best not to give him any ideas.’
‘Mona, have you finished that filing?’ Gabe asked as he returned. ‘Because if you’re looking for something to do …’
‘I’m just taking a little break,’ Mona said, entirely unbothered by Gabe’s bark. She rested her elbows on the desk. ‘Your crabby handwriting gives me a headache. I thought we agreed that you’d stick to block capitals so that we might have a chance of deciphering it?’
Tess steeled herself for the wrath of Gabe to descend on Mona’s very relaxed shoulders, but it never came. He shook his head. ‘Sorry. I do try to write legibly but my left hand has a mind of his own. Can I have the key for Jane Eyre, please?’
It was quite the revelation to see Gabe interacting with someone in a manner that could be described as cordial. Even friendly.
The key was retrieved, the book was unlocked and placed in front of Tess, who now knew what to do.
With a hand that was only slightly sweaty, she opened the book and said, ‘Edward Rochester.’
That thing happened again. A bell began to sound its sweet song and the air in the library shimmied and shimmered while gold dust gently fluttered around them but never settled. As if the library were a glitter globe that had been stirred rather than shaken.
Tess’s heart quickened its beat. She already knew to look towards the double doors, which suddenly opened, and a figure strode decisively towards them. No, towards Tess. His gaze fixed on her.
It had been so long since she’d read Jane Eyre and her memories of Edward Rochester were a bit vague. But it turned out that he was a fine figure of a man. He was tall, dark and looked as if he was in mild torment. Just her type!
‘Rochester, this is Tess,’ Gabe said.
‘You must call me Edward,’ he said in an earnest tone. ‘I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.’