Chapter 11
Both men stood over Aurelia, their faces mirroring each other’s worry.
“Are you unwell, madame?” the man in uniform asked.
“I… You…” Aurelia stared at the elderly man, her breath coming rapidly as she tried to keep from passing out. “You’re… Sergeant Cuff?”
“I am, miss.”
“But… Sergeant Cuff? From The Moonstone?” The words were ridiculous, but she didn’t know what else to say.
“Yes, I am depicted in that novel.”
“You’re—you’re from the novel?”
“I am.”
Aurelia wanted to stare at them, run from the shop, hide under the desk—she just couldn’t decide which should take priority.
“But you just… You rented a costume and this is some kind of party?” she asked hopefully. “Or are you ghosts?”
“Not ghosts, miss, certainly not!” He laughed. “As for a costume, this is merely what I was wearing when I left my story this evening.”
“When you left your story,” Aurelia repeated, as though hearing it again might make it sound in any way rational. She blinked a few times, trying to sort her rushing thoughts. Characters from books, come to life… Sanity very much at risk, she told herself.
“You must be Miss Aurelia. Marigold told me to expect you.”
“Aunt Marigold? You know who I am?” In her shock, Aurelia managed to get to her feet.
“If your aunt is Marigold Clarke, then yes,” Cuff said, barely managing to suppress a teasing smile.
“Marigold… Marigold was my aunt…”
This is bizarre, Aurelia thought, shaking her head. She couldn’t believe she had to break the news of her aunt’s death to a character from a novel who apparently knew her.
“Well, she passed away recently.”
“Oh, that is sad indeed. May I express my heartfelt condolences.” He bowed his head, looking truly sad. “She did warn me that she was ill. Then, after so many nights without her company, I began to suspect the worst.”
“It happened very quickly—at the end. None of us were ready for it.”
Aurelia hated to think of Sergeant Cuff sitting in the shop wondering where Marigold had gone, and the strangeness of the situation hit her once again. If her aunt had talked to him and told him she was sick, was it possible this was all really happening?
The man in uniform stepped forward, elegantly maneuvering past Cuff to stand before Aurelia.
“My deepest sympathies for your loss.” He gave a slight bow. “I did not have the honor of making your aunt’s acquaintance, but I am honored to make yours.” He inclined his head toward her.
“Thank you,” Aurelia said, trying to keep the quaver from her voice as she stared at the two men in front of her. “Are all of you from The Moonstone, then? But no, that can’t be right.”
She once again took in the varying costumes—clothes, she corrected herself—of the people gathered in the shop. Some of them were clearly from a different period than The Moonstone’s mid-nineteenth-century setting.
“No, miss. As you guessed, that is not the case. I am from that novel, along with Rachel. Others are from their own novels.”
Aurelia looked around the shop, trying to place each individual in their literary home.
Those two women chatting together on the mezzanine: they looked like they were from a Jane Austen novel, but which one?
That man with the tumble of curly brown hair wearing the stylish frock coat: he kept mentioning someone named Joe and seemed to have a different accent—American?
—but Aurelia couldn’t place him. And the man in uniform—he was still a mystery.
If she really was surrounded by characters, which book was his?
Catching her eye, the uniformed man quirked an eyebrow at her.
“It is a unique circumstance, is it not?” he asked. “I myself was amazed to learn of it.”
Recognition was beginning to dawn on her—his manners, his demeanor—yet still she couldn’t put her finger on who he was.
He had a stiff way of standing that suggested military service but also had the casual, confident air of someone who felt at home wherever he went.
Aurelia’s curiosity got the better of her.
“I’m Aurelia Lyndham. And you are?”
He reached out his hand in greeting. Remembering the stapler still clutched in her grip, Aurelia quickly deposited it on the desk, then lifted her hand to his.
But rather than shake her hand, he bowed and made as if to pull it to his lips.
To their mutual surprise, however, his hand moved through hers, momentarily dissolving into a misty cloud of white studded with a swirl of what looked like printed black words before seeming to become solid once again.
A gasp caught in Aurelia’s throat as she looked from the man’s hand to his face.
Another disappearing hand! Although, unlike last night, the uniformed man appeared just as astonished as Aurelia to have seen his hand disappear.
Again, he tried grasping her hand, but again his hand passed through hers, dissolving and reforming as if he were made of vapor and air.
They stared at each other; despite what she had just seen, he looked as solid as she was.
“Have you never been in the shop before, sir?” Cuff asked.
“No, this is my first visit to this establishment.”
“Then I shall explain one of its unique features,” said Cuff. “We are never able to touch or manipulate persons or things which do not come forth from books, as we ourselves do.”
The man in uniform cast a glance at Sergeant Cuff, looking like he preferred to be the person delivering information rather than the one receiving it.
Aurelia’s hand flew to her mouth—she knew exactly who he was.
“Vronsky? Count Vronsky?” Aurelia’s voice came out in a whisper. “From Anna Karenina?”
“How intriguing that you seem to know me, madame, when I am only just making your acquaintance.” He again quirked one of his dark eyebrows at Aurelia as she looked him up and down. Her face drained of color and she lost her balance.
“Please, Miss Lyndham, let me help you to your chair. You look as though you have taken ill.”
He tried to guide her to the desk chair, only to recall—as his arm passed through her—that he couldn’t. Instead, he pointed at her chair, which was a few steps away. Aurelia backed slowly toward it and plopped down. She hadn’t stopped staring at him and he was starting to look uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry. I think I’m alright now, thank you.” Aurelia took a few deep breaths before adding, “That was very… Victorian of me.”
“Victorian?”
“Fainting couches, the vapors, and all that.” She waved her hand vaguely. “Are you… Are you really Count Alexei Vronsky?”
“I am indeed. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He straightened to his full height and inclined his head to her again. “I take it my reputation precedes me, as usual?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Aurelia mumbled.
“I hope you have only heard of my best attributes and qualities. Any ill ones I deny wholeheartedly,” he said, his face lighting up with a smile.
“I… It’s just that—”
Aurelia shook her head, muddled at how to put into words everything she felt about him and his novel.
How could she explain that she felt like she knew him, like they were friends?
She knew more about his thoughts and feelings than David’s, and they’d been friends for ages.
But she was saved from having to explain herself when the man with abundant curly hair and an older woman in a brown muslin dress approached the desk.
“Pardon our interruption, miss, but we hoped to introduce ourselves as well.” The man made a short bow, and the woman dipped into a brief curtsy.
Aurelia stood to greet them.
“Hello, I’m Aurelia Lyndham.”
She reached out to shake their hands, then—remembering that it hadn’t worked with Count Vronsky—she turned it into a wave instead.
“Miss Lyndham, I am Theodore Laurence, and this is my mother-in-law. You can call her Marmee—we all do. And you can call me anything you like, but I’m quite partial to the nickname Laurie.”
Aurelia’s eyes widened. She felt for the arm of the chair and dropped into it again.
“Laurie… and Marmee?”
The two characters exchanged amused glances, then smiled at her.
The warmth of Marmee’s smile almost undid Aurelia—it was the smile of an indulgent mother, of hugs when you’re sad or even when you’re happy—and she had to keep holding onto the chair to stop from flinging herself into Marmee’s arms as if she were her own mother.
Aurelia closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
She had just met Count Vronsky from Anna Karenina, and now Laurie and Marmee from Little Women.
This was the stuff of dreams and fantasies!
Any booklover would jump at the chance to sit and talk to their favorite characters, and here Aurelia was trying not to pass out.
She took another deep breath and opened her eyes.
Laurie, Marmee, Vronsky, and Cuff were watching her with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
Maybe it was a dream, or maybe she was hallucinating; either way, they were standing in front of her, waiting for her to talk to them.
“I’m sorry, I think I’ve recovered now.” Aurelia stood again.
“I don’t quite understand what’s happening here—or how it’s happening—or if it really is happening…
But, anyway,” she continued with a shake of her head, “I feel like I know all of you, like I’ve known you for years. I’m sure that sounds very strange.”
“Not strange at all, dear. Though I am glad to see you standing and the color returning to your cheeks,” Marmee said, smiling.
“I’ve read your books—you’re in novels that I’ve read and loved. Is that… Do you know about your novels?” Aurelia still couldn’t quite grasp whether these people knew that they were, in fact, fictional.
“Oh, yes. We know all about them.” Laurie nodded enthusiastically.
“Laurie and Marmee, I’ve read your book so many times and know, or feel like I know, you and your family.” She was struggling to keep her tone polite, not to fawn over people who, just a few hours before, had existed only in her imagination.