by Ella Edon
Thomas just grinned back at her. She was so very pretty and seemed to be enjoying herself so much here in the little village early on a misty morning. Looking at her face, young and kind, yet very strong at the same time, he could easily forget that there was any such thing as the weight of the Worthington lands and family resting on his shoulders.
"Now, you see, miss," Thomas went on, "I happened to be in the confectionary at the same time as the lads here. And I could not help, but overhear that they had it in mind to find a bookseller."
"Yes. That was me. I'm the one who wanted to buy a book," said John, and then gave his brother a little shove. "He just wanted candy."
"Hey, you wanted candy, too! And I gave you some of mine! You can't – "
"Boys! Boys!" scolded Grace, stepping between them. "Perhaps Mr. Wheeler would be kind enough to show us the way to the bookseller's shop. If you find something there, John, you can share it with Noah the same way he shared his candy with you. With all of us," she added quickly.
"I'd be very pleased to escort you to Mr. Nestor's Books," said Thomas. "But before I do, I have a favor to ask of all three of you."
Grace looked at him a little warily, but curiosity got the better of the boys. "What?" the two of them asked together.
Thomas grinned. "As I mentioned to you, I was also in the confectionary. I bought some sweets, too, and now, I have far too many. Would the three of you be kind enough to share them with me?"
"Oh," said Grace. "That is very kind, but I don't think – "
"Yes!"
"Wow, yes!"
The two boys crowded round as Thomas held out the large paper packet he carried, and were even further excited when they saw that it contained a beautiful assortment of large almond dragees.
"Wait. Wait!" Grace insisted, and reluctantly the boys paused. "You may each hold out your hand and allow Mr. Wheeler to give you just a few of the candies. That will be more than enough of a demand on his generosity. And what do you say to him?"
"Thank you," said Noah.
"Thank you very much," said John.
"Wheats and meats, nothing like sweets," Thomas said, shaking out a generous portion into each outstretched hand. "And you are all very welcome."
Thomas glanced up at Grace. "And you, miss? I'd be pleased to share with you, also. Too many here just for me."
"Oh – why – no, no thank you," she answered, a little flustered. "I'm sure my brothers will be glad to save me a few – "
Then she realized that the boys were happily and loudly crunching up all of their candy-shelled almonds. "Here, miss. A few for you." Thomas held out the packet, and after just a little hesitation, she held out her hand.
He did note that her hands were well-accustomed to work – roughened and callused, with a broken nail or two. She suddenly seemed to realize that he was studying her fingers and quickly closed her fist on the candy, withdrawing her arm. "Thank you, again."
"Now, then," Thomas said briskly. "Who's for the bookseller?"
"I am!"
"We are!"
"And so am I," said Thomas, laughing. "Now, invite your sister and follow me. I know the way."
She smiled gently, apparently surrendering, and stepped back to allow Thomas to go on ahead. "We’re in your hands," she said. "To the bookseller's shop."
"To the bookseller's shop," he said, and led the little group directly across the street.
Chapter Seven
Chapbooks And Confections
There were more and more people appearing along the street now, as the rest of the shops opened up for the day. "I must say," called Grace, walking behind Thomas, "that it’s very nice to have such a kindly guide in a new town. I believe you mentioned that you are new here, too, Mr. Wheeler?"
"Oh – why – yes, miss, I am new here," Thomas remembered to say. "Just came in a few weeks ago. But I know the town well enough. Pretty little place."
"It is," she agreed. "This is our first visit in town."
"Well, then! Welcome to Birdwell. I hope you will like it here." Thomas glanced back just in time to see her flash him a smile. It was a lovely image that he knew would stay with him for some time to come.
Nestor's Books & Stationery was located directly across the street from the Dove and Daisy. Thomas opened the door, ushering in his three new charges.
The shop was dimly lit, with lanterns going even in the daytime, for all of its walls and most of the windows were covered with shelves full of books, pamphlets, folders, and printed papers of every description. Thomas had been here before, of course, and enjoyed browsing for books both new and old. If anyone in town might recognize him, it was old Mr. Nestor.
Grace and her brothers all seemed to love the bookseller's shop. They immediately began walking among the shelves and past the barrels and bins on the floor, all filled with reading material. And, true to the sign, there actually was a fine display of writing papers, along with a few quills and pots of ink, far back in one corner.
Mr. Nestor, small, gaunt, and grey-haired, appeared behind the counter with a cup of tea in his hand and nodded to Grace. "Good morning, miss. And good morning to you, young lads," he said. "What might you be in search of today?"
Grace turned to him. "Good morning," she answered. "My brother John has a half-penny. He would like to know what he might buy for that amount."
Thomas stayed at the back corner, pretending to look over the stationery. He reminded himself to forego his usual tall, straight way of carrying himself as the earl, and instead stayed a little bent, allowing his shoulders to become rounded. The pebbles in his left boot kept him walking with a slight limp. And most importantly, he remembered to speak like a working man and not like Lord Worthington.
"I should think that you could take him to look along the back wall, miss," said Mr. Nestor, after a moment. "Look in the bins and stacks sitting on the floor. Titles of every sort. Many that a young boy would like – adventure, history, that sort of thing."
"Thank you." Grace walked with the two boys to the back wall and they began whispering together as they looked through the many, many folded paper chapbooks, some with fine illustrations and drawings to go with the stories.
Just then, the door to the shop opened again. Thomas glanced up, peering from beneath his flat woolen cap, and was greatly amused when he saw who was walking inside.
True to his word, Simon had come into town this morning to observe his friend's little test. "Good morning, Mr. Nestor," said Simon. "Anything new today?"
"Oh, I'm sure there is, Mr. Clarke. And if I ever took inventory, I'd know where it was."
"That's quite all right. The joy of a book shop is in discovering all its secrets. I'll just have a look through. If I do find anything new, I'll let you know."
"That is very kind of you, sir," said Mr. Nestor, quite seriously, and then sat down on a stool behind the counter to finish his tea.
While Simon pretended to browse, Thomas wandered over to the bins and shelves full of chapbooks and listened as Grace tried to help John choose something.
"There are so many," she said, looking at one after another. "Most of these, I don't know what they are. It looks like – sermons? Histories? Bible verses for children? The proper care of hens and ducks?"
"We already have bible verses," said John. "I want something new. Something different. Something I've never seen before."
Thomas began looking through another stack a few steps down. "Well, now, young master John," he said, carefully pulling out a chapbook from far down in the heavy stack. "I think I may have found you a story that's rather better than what your sister's discovered."
John looked up at Grace, and then stepped closer to Thomas. "What is it?"
"A story I think you'll like very much. You and your brother both." Thomas handed him what looked like a very worn stack of folded paper. John studied the front of it and then read the title with some difficulty. "The Adventures of Cap-Captain Gul – " He paused, a little frustrated.
&n
bsp; "It's called 'The Adventures of Captain Gulliver,'" said Thomas. "It's what you call a fanciful tale."
"A – what kind of tale? Fancy-full?"
Thomas laughed. "Fanciful. That means it's filled with all sorts of wonderful things that are like nothing you've heard of before."
Mr. Nestor came wandering over, apparently done with his tea, and took the chapbook out of John's hand. "This is indeed a fanciful tale. It's filled with giants and talking horses. I think that a boy of your age might enjoy it very much."
John just looked up at him, his eyes shining, and began looking through the folded pages of the little book.
"A nice find, sir," said Mr. Nestor to Thomas, looking up at him. "I believe all of you are new to Birdwell. Welcome."
"Why, thank ye, thank ye," said Thomas, touching his cap and making sure it was pulled down as much as he dared. "Fine place. Round and down, pretty little town."
"Ah, I see. Born within the sound of the Bow Bells, were you?" asked Mr. Nestor.
"You could say that, guvnah," answered Thomas brightly. "East end of London, most of me life." Then he caught a glimpse of Simon giving him a fierce stare and shaking his head, as though warning him off taking this too far.
Thomas cleared his throat and turned back to the boys. "I think you'll both like that one," he said to them.
"Oh, they will, they will," said Mr. Nestor. "And there are plenty more where that came from. If ever I find them, I'll put them back for you."
"Thank you very much, sir," said Grace, clearly delighted at finding the little book. "John, you must pay for your purchase now. We must be getting home."
"All right, Grace." Quite proudly, John reached into his pocket and gave the half-penny to Mr. Nestor. "Thank you, sir," he said, very politely. "I'm sure we will all be back."
"You are most welcome to come back whenever you like. It's not every day I get four entirely new customers in my shop." Mr. Nestor glanced up at Thomas again. "I hope you'll come back as well, sir. You do seem to know your books."
Thomas hesitated for an instant. "Not at all, not at all," he said, with a wave of his hand. "Just happened to find that one. May read it meself, some time. Good day to ye now."
"Good day to you all." Mr. Nestor opened the door for them and all four walked outside into the soft grey day.
Grace stepped back out onto the walkway with John and Noah. The tall coachman, Adam Wheeler, followed after them.
She was feeling a great whirling of emotions right now. This one morning had held more joys, gifts, beauty, and happiness than all the other days of her life put together. And yet, the appearance of this coachman had suddenly threatened to send all of her carefully made plans into a jumble of wreckage.
This man, this Mr. Wheeler, seemed very different from any other man she'd ever met. Northcliff had been somewhat isolated, but it was not without visitors, many of which were of the upper classes and even the peerage. And, of course, there had been any number of coachmen, gillies, and other male servants coming and going, certainly all as strong and as stout as this man.
Yet his air was simply – different. He had a bit of polish that she had never noticed on the other servants, who were all simple and gruff and down-to-earth like her father and even Uncle Leonard.
Mr. Wheeler, though, knew about books and fine sweets, and carried himself as elegantly as any duke even though he did walk with something of a limp. He wasn’t old, though his face looked a little coarse. And he had been so very kind to John and Noah both, something not often seen with the overworked servants who usually had no patience with boys, unless they could put them to work.
He was a mystery, this one. Her curiosity was well up.
"Miss Miller," asked Mr. Wheeler. She turned to face him and saw, now, out in the daylight with the mist burning away, that he had neatly trimmed light brown hair under the flat leather cap and sparkling hazel eyes that looked merry.
Grace suddenly found it a little difficult to speak. "Ah – ah, yes?"
He smiled at her, a kind and mischievous smile. "I came down here today in a little governess car. My – I mean, Lady Worthington sometimes likes to take the air in it while driving her favorite pony. I've driven that same pony here today for a bit of work, and of course, I have to drive her back."
"I see," Grace said, although she wasn’t sure that she did.
"So – if you tell me where you live, I would be pleased to drive all of you back to your home this morning."
Grace took a deep breath. "I don't – I mean, I cannot accept. That is very kind of you, Mr. Wheeler, but my brothers and I do not mind the walk. It isn’t far."
"Where do you live, Miss Miller?"
Again, she stopped, just staring up at him, not sure what to say. "We – that is, we – "
"Ah, of course. Forget I asked. That was rather forward of me. Though Orri will miss meeting you, of course."
"Orri – ?"
"Oriole. The little Highland mare I drove here today."
"Oh. Of course. Well, perhaps we will meet her next time."
"I would like that." The coachman stared down at Grace in silence for a moment, and she felt that she could hardly breathe – much less move from the spot. "Then, Miss Miller, I will leave you and your two fine young brothers to it, and I will get on home as soon as I finish making my other purchases here."
"We do thank you, though, for all of your generosity," said Grace, and glanced down at the boys. They were finishing the last of the brown sugar bits from the paper and looking through John's new chapbook.
Grace gave them a nudge. "Thank you, sir," they said together, and the coachman laughed.
"The pleasure was all mine," he said, touching his cap to them again. "I hope I will see all of you here in Birdwell again very soon." He looked at Grace when he said that, and then finally turned and walked away towards the livery stable.
Grace closed her eyes, finally letting out a deep breath. Her head was spinning from the heavy and unaccustomed sweetness of the confections and from the curious presence of Mr. Wheeler. Slowly, almost without thinking, she placed a hand on the shoulder of each of her brothers and began walking with them along the boardwalk towards the north.
She couldn’t get the images of him out of her mind. He was quite tall and slim, though very strong under the rough wool coat, and as graceful as a stag even with his uneven walk.
And his hands . . . Grace had noticed his hands when he'd offered the dragees to the boys. He’d worn no gloves and his fingers were smooth and slender and unblemished. Well, perhaps he was accustomed to wearing good gloves while working and driving. That would seem to be the only explanation for such pretty hands on a coachman.
Finally, in an effort to make herself think of something else, she looked back at the boys. "How is your book, John? It seems very exciting to think you bought your own book today, for only a half-penny!"
"Well," said John, finally giving up on trying to read and walk at the same time, "I got most of the book for a half-penny. This one is old and I think it has a page or two missing."
"But – how will we know all about the story if some of it is missing?" asked Noah, clearly concerned. "Especially how it ends?"
"Noah, I promise you," said Grace. "If need be, we’ll make up our own ending and fill in all the gaps. The book will be perfect just as it is."
John grinned up at her. "We can all take a turn reading it after I am done," he said, obviously feeling quite important at being the buyer and owner of his very own book.
"That would be lovely," said Grace. "Perhaps you could read it aloud to us at night, while Mother and I do the sewing."
John merely nodded, but his eyes shone.
"I think that sounds good!" said Noah, scraping the paper with his finger for any last traces of brown sugar.
"It sounds wonderful!" said Grace with a laugh, and together the three of them continued along the road to Applewood Cottage.
With all the extraordinary and frightening and wonderful
things that were suddenly happening in her life, it seemed strange that the most disorienting of all was meeting a simple coachman who was merely visiting Birdwell on an errand in the same way that she was – as anyone might.
Grace could hardly believe how her life was turning around. It seemed like the most wonderful of dreams. But she was well aware that, sooner or later, one always woke up from a dream.
Chapter Eight
The Earl Plans A Deception
