by Beth Byers
“Oy, Jane!”
Georgette didn’t so much as look up because she’d heard her false name but because someone was hollering in the street. She turned towards the shouting, saw the nephew of Edna Williams, and then whispered to Marian. “Go with the lies.”
“What?” she asked as Georgette turned and smiled.
“Why hello, Kaspar, fancy meeting you here.”
“I wondered if you wanted to accompany me to my aunt’s home?” He was, she only just realized, quite a handsome man, with a deep brown tan that set off his blue eyes and golden hair. He was perhaps around the same age as herself and Harrison.
“Oh that is nice,” Georgette lied. “This is my friend, Miss Parker. I’ve arranged to spend the evening with her, but I imagine I’ll be seeing you soon at dear Edna’s.” Georgette stumbled over the last word as she realized she had no idea if Edna lived in a house, a cottage, a set of rooms, or even a caravan.
“Indeed. Tea tomorrow, isn’t it?” he asked and Georgette found herself helplessly nodding.
“Did you go to the same school as Jane?” Kaspar asked Marian as though there wasn’t almost a decade between the two women.
“Ah, no,” Marian replied. “We’re friends…outside of school?” Although Marian was telling the truth, she was so bad at lying, it came out as a question and left her flushed.
“How do you know Jane?”
Marian looked frantically at Georgette, who said, “It is Georgette now that I’m not at school anymore.”
“Of course,” Kaspar said, his gaze landing on Georgette’s face before looking at Marian again. Georgette could almost see him calculating the difference in their ages too late. He looked awkwardly between them, cleared his throat, and then leaned down to pet the dogs.
Marian stared hard at Georgette while Kaspar’s head was turned down but tried to blink it away when he stood.
“I’ll be seeing you soon,” he said, too intensely. His gaze landed first on the lovely Marian and then turned to Georgette. Given his frown, she wasn't sure that he believed his aunt’s lie, but Georgette had no idea even why Edna Williams was so determined to keep her nephew out of her house and why she hadn’t just said no.
“What in the world was that?” Marian breathed as Kaspar walked away.
“I don’t even know,” Georgette admitted. She described the afternoon with Edna Williams.
“You bought your own book?” Marian asked, completely ignoring the relevant information.
“I did,” Georgette squeaked, and she put her hands over her mouth.
“They had a display?”
Georgette nodded, her lips pressed together to hold back the second squeak.
“And they have a tea shop here that you love? Maybe we should move to Bath.”
In the same moment, both women shook their heads. Bath was too far from London. With Marian’s fiancé a Scotland Yard detective and Charles owning half of a publishing company, they needed to find a village within a reasonable train ride from London.
“Perhaps we should just stay in London?”
Again, in unison, they shook their heads.
“What we need,” Marian told Georgette, “is somewhere quirky like Bard’s Crook, but where you haven’t made an enemy of half the town.”
Georgette scowled at Marian’s smirk and then couldn’t help but laugh. “I find that I feel very out of place in Bath. I don’t know everyone.”
“Neither do I,” Marian said with twitching lips.
“Oh no,” Georgette said, nudging Marian’s arm. “Not all of us have traveled the world over and lived in the city of strangers.”
“I like Bard’s Crook, too. They’re completely mad but lovable,” Marian told Georgette. “When I imagine us married to Joseph and Charles with our little ones running around, I don’t want to think of London’s air in regards to my children, let alone neighbors who don’t even know your name.”
Georgette grinned. They were engaged to be married to an uncle and nephew. Though, Joseph Aaron was around Georgette’s age, maybe a year or two older while Charles was a decade ahead of his nephew.
“Has Eunice found anywhere for us to live yet? My mother won’t let me set a marriage date until after Joseph has somewhere to take me. His bachelor’s rooms won’t work.”
Georgette shook her head. Eunice was technically Georgette’s servant, but in practice, Eunice was family. She had taken on the task of packing Georgette’s cottage and setting it up to be sold after Georgette had been revealed as the author, Joseph Jones. Given that Georgette had fictionalized her neighbors’ lives in her novel to the terrible result of multiple murders, Bard’s Crook was no longer so welcoming of Georgette Dorothy Marsh.
They made their purchases from the tea shop with Georgette buying so many teas that she was going to have to double her intake or, she thought with a smile, share her teas with Charles. Eunice, darn the woman, refused to drink anything other than English breakfast tea or Earl Grey. Charles, however, had accepted Georgette’s odd teas without a quibble and had even come to love the one with cocoa and coffee in it nearly as well as Georgette.
They were walking down the street slowly as neither of them really wanted to return to the house and Harrison.
“You will, though,” Marian turned to Georgette, “tell Harrison that you’re marrying Charles before he comes.”
Georgette winced. Earlier that day, Harrison had left the snippet of his newest book and a rose next to her plate. He really seemed to think that he could just wear her down. There was a part of her that wanted to box his ears. There was a part of her that was flattered. The fact that those two parts of her were so diabolically opposed made Georgette wish to box her own ears.
“Yes,” Georgette promised, ignoring the roiling anxiety in her stomach. “Of course I will. It would be unkind to let him discover that when Charles arrives.”
“When will he be here?” Marian asked.
“He didn’t give a specific date.” Georgette nodded at the bookseller, who had just stepped outside of his shop and was locking the door. The day was coming to a close for the little shops. Georgette and Marian had been the last visitors to the teashop. “I think it’s going to depend upon finishing things that need to be done in London.”
Marian nodded, her mouth twisting, and Georgette had little doubt that her friend was wishing that Joseph could work as easily far from London as Charles could.
Chapter 3
Charles Aaron
“When are you leaving?” Joseph asked as Charles loaded his briefcase later that same evening.
They hadn’t discussed Charles leaving for Bath, but they’d both walked around the subject since they’d left Bard’s Crook for London while their ladies had gone to Bath. No one had chosen Bath so much as followed Mrs. Parker, Marian’s aunt, there.
Charles was, he supposed, grateful to Mrs. Parker for giving Georgette a place to stay while her cottage was being sold and they were searching for a married home. He was also selfish enough to wish that Mrs. Parker had been willing to take the ladies to London or even Mersea. Somewhere close enough to pop over for a day or the weekend.
Charles hadn’t received a reply to his letter to Georgette, but he had little doubt that she’d welcome him coming to Bath when he arrived. He calculated quickly in his head and realized she’d probably only received his letter that day. Until they found somewhere to live, their marriage plans were paused.
Charles scowled as he considered. He’d thought it would be easy to find a place for both of them to live, but they were struggling to find a place in London when they wanted it for just a short time and Georgette finally said they should just find the village, buy the home, and marry. He didn’t disagree that was the rational thing to do, he just disagreed on the delay.
He glanced at his desk, checking for anything he’d left behind while wondering if Georgette wanted a large wedding. They hadn’t discussed it, but if he had to guess, he’d say that she’d be happier with a quiet wedd
ing rather than attempting something large. Maybe she was assuming he wanted a large marriage? He didn’t. It would be an avenue for those who were mere acquaintances to appear. Those who he really wanted there? His nephews. Perhaps his partner, though Luther wouldn’t be offended if Charles were to elope. He’d just clap Charles on the back, wish him well, and hand over another author to handle. Luther preferred the handling of distribution and contracts while Charles discovered the writers and dealt with them directly.
“It’s not clear yet,” Charles told Joseph, noting the envy in his nephew’s gaze. Charles grinned at his nephew and winked. “We’ve a bit more freedom than you and Marian. Is her family still eyeing you sideways?”
“As though I were going to run her off to Gretna Green or whatnot. Steal her away and refuse to bring her back.”
Joseph’s fiancé was watched far more closely than Georgette—who was entirely free to do as she wished. With a large dash of protective reserve, Joseph’s future in-laws were welcoming. The reserve was more for the age difference than a dislike of Joseph specifically. Charles’s nephew was thirty-one and Marian was only nineteen.
“You have no idea when you’re leaving?” Joseph stretched his neck.
Charles paused in clearing his desk to examine his nephew’s worried gaze. “It’ll depend on when Micah Banister can come in for his meeting about his latest manuscript. He prefers not to meet with Luther, so I’ll need to be here for that meeting before I can go.”
Joseph nodded, distinctly uncaring of Charles’s business concerns. Charles began packing his pipe before they left the office. He had been ready for a pipe for the last half of the day but too busy to stop and enjoy a smoke. If Joseph wanted to talk about why he was worried, Charles wouldn’t be waiting any longer for that pipe.
Joseph watched as Charles put a match to his pipe and lit a cigarette himself. “How goes the house and village search? Mr. and Mrs. Parker won’t let Marian even set a date for our wedding until I’ve got a house for her. She wants a big event, so it’s not like we’ll be doing anything other than choosing something in the future and scheduling the church. I’m going to pin her down when I reach Bath regardless of her mother’s wants. We can ensure we have a house before then, but it’ll give her a chance to focus her attention on the wedding and get things moving.”
“We’re dealing with similar delays,” Charles admitted. “Georgette could move into my rooms, but I realized we’d become packed to the gills when I looked for a place to put her things. She’ll be happier, and I as well, if we start in a new house together. Especially as there isn’t room for Eunice, and I have no desire to alienate her.”
As far as his nephew’s situation went, it was all too easy for Charles to see both sides of the issue. On Joseph’s side, he was a respectable man with a good position and money in the bank to pay for his home. On Marian’s parents’ side, their daughter was very young and had fallen for the dashing, older man quite quickly. To Charles’s surprise, he found himself thinking he’d be as protective of his daughter as the Parkers were being of Marian.
Charles patted Joseph on the shoulder. If the delay was not having a home, there was an indefinite one before them both.
“I sent Robert down to help Eunice finish with the cottage. They’ll be done in a day or two and then Eunice will go over the lists of villages we’ve been sending her. Eunice will narrow down where to look, Georgette will find a likely village, and I’ll come in and agree to whatever she says. You are determined to buy in the same village?”
Joseph nodded absently. “Marian won’t forgive me if we don’t. I’m convinced she loves me, but your Georgette is necessary to Marian’s happiness, especially with her mother not being in the same village. We could stay in London, but Marian chose Georgette over her family already. If we live in London and you in Harper’s Hollow or wherever you choose and then I have to travel? No, it won’t do.”
“Georgette does seem to nest in your heart until you’d prefer not to live without her,” Charles agreed. “She also doesn’t treat Marian like a child. I think that might be part of your problem with Marian’s family.”
Joseph nodded. “You think the girls are getting into trouble?”
Charles looked up in alarm. Why would his nephew even ask that? But he shook his head in answer. Of course they weren’t. Georgette was responsible, Marian was a good girl. She might be a bit young, but she followed Georgette’s example.
“Really?” Joseph asked, sounding surprised. “Not even a little bit of trouble?”
“I’d prefer to assume that they’re drinking an excess of tea, walking an excess of dogs, and generally reading an excess of novels. Georgette could do Aaron & Luther a favor and write another bestseller.”
There was too long of a silence before Joseph agreed hesitatingly, “I’m sure they’re doing all of that.”
Charles glanced up again in alarm. “Why are you asking this?”
Joseph began to pace, stopping only often enough to drop his ashes into the ashtray.
“Think about those two,” Joseph muttered as he paced. “Georgette wrote a very charming little book that had her neighbors murdering each other.”
Charles puffed on his pipe. That was all too true. It had been pure madness but it was also when he’d realized she had captured his interest, imagination, and soon after his heart.
Almost manically, Joseph added, “Then, she wrote another very charming little book that was almost entirely fictional. Which caused two murders and a side of blackmail.”
Charles winced and puffed heavily on his pipe until the clouds of smoke were rising over his head as though he were a train chuffing up a hill.
“Then, of course,” Joseph said, “they were in Bard’s Crook, which seems to be the quietest, sweetest little hamlet in the countryside of England. I’m not saying Bard’s Crook isn’t rife with mad people. Many places are. That being said, Bath is no hamlet. Given that it’s far larger—”
“There are more mad people to find,” Charles finished.
“Exactly,” Joseph said tellingly.
“Still, it’s hardly London,” Charles protested, but his nephew’s worry infected him. “Perhaps they’re taking the waters? Visiting the bridges? What else is there to do? They don’t know anyone there, by Jove!”
Joseph laughed. It was a sarcastic bark that chilled Charles.
“Perhaps they’ll go for a swim,” Charles suggested, sounding desperate.
“I’m sure they will go swimming,” Joseph agreed darkly, “and stumble over some drowning victim.”
Charles cleared his throat, shooting his nephew a quelling look.
Joseph snapped his mouth shut and let a few minutes pass before he asked, “Would you like to go to dinner?”
“Who can eat after the worries you’ve dumped on me?”
“You’ll be in Bath soon,” Joseph reminded him. “Let me know if there’s trouble and I’ll see what I can do.”
Charles shook his head and tapped his pipe. Joseph had ruined whatever peace Charles had about Georgette being in Bath. It was bad enough that Harrison Parker was there with Georgette while Charles was in London working. That might even be worse, Charles thought. The man had, after all, wanted to marry Georgette.
Charles wasn’t blind, so he knew that to most people Georgette was nothing more than another quiet, plain spinster. Her pretty smile and bright eyes were there for anyone with wit to see but few did. Harrison Parker was not, however, stupid. He’d seen those pretty eyes and smile as easily as Charles had—eventually anyway. When you added in that Harrison had discovered Georgette’s cleverness? It might just make Harrison appealing in return.
Charles loved Georgette for the way she looked through everything around her, catching glimpses of what most people missed. She didn’t just see more deeply, which was fascinating in and of itself, but she took the little threads of interior lives and wove the details into new stories. It was enchanting.
Again, however, that wasn�
�t why he had fallen in love with her, but he had to admit it was how she’d captured his imagination. He’d fallen in love with her because she was kind, thoughtful, and generous. His love was as simple as her unfettered kindness.
What if Harrison saw the same things in Georgette as Charles had? What if Harrison had gone beyond seeing a woman who could help him become a published author and realized she was actually a treasure?
“I’ve become a little girl,” Charles told his nephew, taking a deep inhale of his pipe and then opening the door of his office. Dinner would be a distraction at least. “Harrison Parker is there, you know. Lurking, sharing the same house.”
“He did propose to Georgette,” Joseph told his uncle with a mischievous grin. It was the kind of grin that both took pleasure in the other’s discomfort and yet—somehow—conveyed affection.
“You’re riling up my worries to get me to go to Bath more quickly, aren’t you?”
“They’re trouble,” Joseph told Charles. “Our girls are trouble magnets together and as we cannot talk ourselves out of loving them, we must instead try to keep someone from wringing their necks.”
“Banister is not too far from Bath,” Charles mused. “I wonder if he’d allow me to visit him in his home for this next meeting.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Joseph asked as he hailed a black cab. “Then he doesn’t have to rearrange his life.”
Charles muttered options to himself aloud that would get him to Bath sooner. As he arranged the possibilities, Joseph admitted, “I cannot go this weekend as I had intended. I’ve got a case in Newcastle.”
“Newcastle? Marian will be disappointed.” Charles scowled at his nephew. “You deliberately worried me over them because you cannot go yourself.”
Joseph’s wince was nearly as deep Charles’s had been when Joseph had been taunting his uncle about Harrison Parker.
“I might have done. But you’ll go to Bath yourself, won’t you?” Joseph asked, and this time there was a bit of a plea in it. “I’ll check out that village, Harper’s Hollow, on the way up to Newcastle.”
