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ONCE SUFFICIENTLY RECOVERED, Elizabeth carefully walked back to the dining room. Her feet stung a little from the pressure, but her euphoria blurred out most of the pain. Three thousand pounds. That was easily one hundred pounds per annum in interest. Together with the inheritance she already received from her uncle, she could make upwards of one hundred seventy-five pounds. Every. Year. For the rest of her life.
She could support her younger sisters, in the event of her father’s death.
She could support Isabella, if needed.
She would not have to ask Charles for a single shilling.
Elizabeth leaned against the wall in the foyer. Her vision blurred and she felt the faintness come upon her again. She was saved.
She told herself to be calm. After all, there was no guarantee with an auction. She would require a great many trustworthy individuals to pull off such an event, and it would take time to arrange that. And she could not ask Aunt Cass to engage in that level of business when her last living brother was only lately put into the ground. No. She must be calm. She must exercise restraint.
Three thousand pounds.
Her heart skipped several beats while it leapt into her throat to regain its agitated state once more.
Three thousand pounds.
“Miss Knight?”
Elizabeth stared at Sally. “Yes?”
“Are you well?”
“Why...why do you ask?”
“You have been staring at that potted plant for several minutes.”
Elizabeth blinked her eyes and took inventory of her surroundings and discovered that, indeed, she had been staring at a potted plant. “Oh. No. Sorry. I got distracted and needed to order my thoughts before I went back to...sorting the books. I apologize for worrying you.”
Sally did not look convinced, but nodded and said, “Very well, miss. Did you need my help walking?”
“Yes, please, if it won’t take away from your duties.”
“No, miss.”
Sally helped Elizabeth up the stairs to the drawing room where she faced her aunt and dear friend. She put on a warm smile for them, though she did attempt to bring herself down to the calm and even Elizabeth that they were expecting.
“Goodness, Eliza! You look out of sorts!”
“Did Mr. Osborne not want that book?” Aunt Cass asked. “We can put it in with the general auction books.”
Elizabeth tightened her grip on the book. She did release it eventually, correcting her reflexive behaviour, but not in time for the others not to notice. At Aunt Cass’ inquisitive expression, Elizabeth said, “I wish to keep this book. Please remove it from all of the lists.”
“Is that not the book Mrs. Egerton would fetch a good price?” Maria asked.
“I wish to remove it from the lists,” Elizabeth insisted.
“Of course, I’ll do as you wish. But why?” Maria asked.
“Did Mr. Osborne say something to upset you?”
Elizabeth did not wish to lie, but she also knew both her aunt and friend well enough to know that asking them not to pry would only bring out more curiosity, not less. And, for now, she wished to keep this information to herself until she had an opportunity to think through the implications.
“I believe my uncle wished me to keep this one. Thus, it will not be for sale and I do not wish to experience any coercion to sell.”
“If you feel that strongly, I shall strike it off the lists immediately,” Maria said.
“Thank you, I shall put this upstairs before it becomes misplaced.”
Elizabeth assured everyone that she could walk unassisted, and delighted in the several minutes of solitude. It helped order her thoughts and helped calm her excitement. After all, the worry of the book’s sale began to settle in and she wondered if selling it for ten pounds might end up being the best option for her.
She placed the book in the trunk with the other autograph books. It was her trunk, left to her from her uncle, so there was no worry about it accidentally being returned to Mr. David Leigh. And this would allow her some time to figure out what to do.
Each time she considered her options, her heart began pounding loudly in her chest. The worry and uncertainty of attempting to sell such an item was so beyond her abilities, experiences, and indeed even her knowledge, that it completely overwhelmed her.
She told herself, rather sternly, that Mr. Thorne would assist her. Mr. Osborne, too, seemed a very trustworthy gentleman, who could have taken advantage of her ignorance and yet did not. Both her uncle and Mr. Thorne trusted Mr. Osborne. If her financial situation ever became dire, she could ask Henry Thorne to write to Mr. Osborne and request assistance.
Her heart began to settle back to its regular rhythm and she decided that it was not yet time to deal with the book. She would make decisions once she had sorted the library in its entirety. Then, and only then, would she address this apparently life-changing book.
Sense. Caution. Wits.
This was the proper path to a decision that she would not later regret. Caution must guide her. Greed must not.
Fortified with that decision, her anxieties mostly faded. Before her lay a path. Sorting. Selling. More sorting. More selling. Finding homes for what was left. And, finally, her eventual return to Bryden. Then, the knowledge of the book’s existence might be all she needed to walk through life as an unmarried woman.
Elizabeth smiled. She could do this.
*****
MR. OSBORNE SHOCKINGLY purchased three full crates of books. He had long been attempting to branch out more into occult materials for the general public and was very pleased by the diversity of Elizabeth’s collection. He took half of the botany books, a quarter of the farming books, and several of the historical occult books. He even took two occult novels. He was uncertain if those would sell, but he felt it was worth the one-shilling risk.
All total, Elizabeth was presented later that day with eight pounds, nine shillings, and three pence.
At first, she vowed not to count the money, however, Maria insisted upon seeing the money laid out on the dining room table. Even Aunt Cass asked to see it.
She counted the coins and the bills and exclaimed, “My god! In total, including what I arrived in London with, I have over eighteen pounds!”
Aunt Cass gave her a hug and said, “I never thought I’d be so excited by trade.”
“Indeed!” Maria said. “It is a bit like gambling.”
Elizabeth let out a laugh. “Only more profitable!”
“Ladies, if I may interrupt the giggling,” Henry Thorne said as he walked into the room. “With your permission, I must be off. I have received a letter from the Earl of Essex. He is in town, visiting a sick family member, and would like to see the book list.”
“I thought he collected art,” Aunt Cass said.
“Indeed, Mrs. Spencer. However, it says in his letter that he is looking for three specific books, and wished to know if we were in possession of them.”
“And are we?” Elizabeth said.
“In fact, we are in possession of various editions.” Henry glanced at the list and said, “Oh, excellent, Maria! You even noted the books with damage. Oh, you are a treasure.”
“I aim to be thorough in all things,” Maria said.
“That is why I married you, my dear!”
“I thought it was my rather large dowry?”
That brought a roar of laughter from Henry Thorne. “Well, that is why my family granted me permission!”
“Oh, Henry! Get out before Mrs. Spencer thinks ill of us.”
Aunt Cass laughed. “My dear Mrs. Thorne, I come from a time when husband and wife did not even have to like each other to be married. I believe it was a full decade before I even liked my dear George, may God rest his soul.”
“Aunt Cass! I know very well that you adored Uncle Spencer.”
Aunt Cass tutted. “You young people and your notions. Be off with you, Mr. Thorne! We rely upon your bargaining skills to fetch my niece an excellent price.”
Henry Thorne bowed deeply, as if he were addressing a duchess. “At your command, my dear woman.”
“Get out, Henry,” Maria chided.
Henry gave a final short bow and then waved to the ladies.
“Mrs. Thorne, I believe you are too hard on your husband.”
A chuckle escaped Elizabeth, bringing a scowl from her friend. “I married a scoundrel, Mrs. Spencer. A handsome, affable, good-hearted scoundrel. One smile from that man and I lose all resolve. My only protection is for him to think he still has to win my entire affection.”
“You married him. He already won, my dear Mrs. Thorne.”
“Ah, but with Henry, that was only a battle.” Maria lifted her chin. “I shall win the war.”
Elizabeth shook her head, unable to hold back her laughter. “The two of you are impossibly stubborn.”
“What has Henry said to you?”
“I do not break confidences, Maria Cuthbert Thorne, of which you know.”
Mrs. Egerton sighed. “Ladies? Might we get back to work please? We currently have more books to sort through than what the king of England possesses.”
“I believe that is an exaggeration, Mrs. Egerton,” Elizabeth said, careful not to put any chiding or sternness in her voice.
For her part, Mrs. Egerton made a displeased sound, which was answer enough for Elizabeth. The ladies chatted as they sorted. Aunt Cass was feeling fatigued, so she took on the role of scribe, and continued the task of writing out the books that were sorted into each crate and trunk. It was a tedious task, but it was necessary work.
Elizabeth had spent too long upon her feet, and she began to feel the throbbing in her heel. She attempted to ignore it, but soon a limp formed, which set her aunt and friend into a whirl of worry. James promptly placed a chair next to the sideboard for Elizabeth’s convenience, and assisted her into the chair.
“Thank you, James,” Elizabeth said, feeling rather embarrassed by the scene.
“Would you like a glass of wine, Miss?” James asked.
“May I tea instead? If it isn’t any trouble, of course.”
“I will inform Mrs. Cook,” James said. To his mistress, he asked, “Ma’am?”
“Ask Cook if we can have a light tray of food.”
“Nothing extravagant, please,” Elizabeth insisted. “A bit of bread and butter would be very acceptable.”
“Yes, miss. I’ll let her know.”
Food and tea was delivered and Aunt Cass asked James to close the door to the drawing room. He did so, and then they went back to work.
“Mrs. Egerton? I am feeling very overwhelmed by the choices before me. May I read out some of these titles for you to assist?”
“My dear girl, why else am I here?”
Elizabeth successfully covered a laugh with a cough, made more difficult by Maria making faces at Aunt Cass, and then her aunt attempting to swat Maria into silence.
The Adventures of An Irish Occultist, Interspersed with Whimsical Anecdotes of A Bottle (1744).
“Oh, put it in the sale pile. That will appeal to an older bachelor. Insipid book.”
The History of a Young Lady, Who Was Ruined By Her Excessive Affection for The Occult. With notes by men of sense. (1797)
“This is why I believe there should be laws preventing the publication of this filth. Men of sense. Ha! They wished a woman would call them that.”
The Amorous Adventures of the Famed Italian Occultist, an autobiography (1729).
“I am the lady in the red cap. That is the only faithful part of the tale.”
“You are mentioned in this book about amorous adventures?” Aunt Cass asked.
“Indeed, Mrs. Spencer. Now, if you please, into the For Sale crate.”
A twinkle formed in Aunt Cass’ eye that Elizabeth knew well. “Niece, I shall give you a shilling for this book.”
“Mrs. Spencer!” Mrs. Egerton said sternly.
“One shilling six,” Maria said with a wink.
Mrs. Egerton sighed.
“Aunt, Maria, I believe Mrs. Egerton would prefer her privacy in this matter,” Elizabeth said. “So, I shall place the book upon the top of the pile where I am certain neither of you will violate her wishes.”
“I do not understand why you are not married,” Mrs. Egerton said.
“No one is good enough for her,” Maria said.
“That is unfair, Maria Thorne!” Elizabeth said sternly.
“Though accurate,” Aunt Cass muttered. She offered her niece a smile when caught.
After a few more minutes of good-natured discussion, and a cup of tea, Elizabeth sighed and said, “This is going to take forever. There is still my bedchamber yet.”
“Don’t forget the dining room,” Maria added helpfully.
“I forgot what my dining room looks like,” Aunt Cass said.
Mrs. Egerton made a sound that seemed to announce she had come to a decision. “Miss Knight. Please open my book to my autograph. Now, turn the page. Good. Read the incantation out loud if you please.”
Elizabeth followed the instructions, though first asked before reading aloud, “What will the spell do?”
“I will be released from the page and go about assisting you.”
Elizabeth looked at Aunt Cass. “Should I?”
“Why are you asking her?” the book demanded. “I am right here, you know.”
“It is my aunt’s house, Mrs. Egerton. I wish to be a considerate guest.”
Aunt Cass shrugged. “If there are problems, I’m sure we could call in the Royal Occult Society, as a favour, to help.”
“Oh, please!” Mrs. Egerton scoffed. “That group of pompous old men would not know how to conjure the spirit of a dead pigeon. Now, hurry up. We have work to do.”
Elizabeth glanced about, only to endure another wave of caustic commentary from Mrs. Egerton. Elizabeth braved up and read the incantation:
Spirit of Chocolate and Roses, Join Our Quest.
“That cannot be correct,” Elizabeth said frowning down at the book. “What does that even mean? Oh!”
Elizabeth dropped the book. Mrs. Egerton stood in front of her, wearing a red riding habit from the previous century. She’d never seen such a masculine cut on a woman before, outside of paintings. A tricorne hat perched perfectly upon Mrs. Egerton’s elaborate curls that somehow seemed real and not the work of a wig. Elegant blue satin shoes with heavy embroidery poked out from her hem.
Mrs. Egerton squared her shoulders. “Well now. That is better. Bring the book, if you please. Keep it safe and away from wet or fire. The incantation only works if the book is in view of me. Please remember that I am visible to anyone like this, and they can hear me. Therefore, exercise extreme caution. I also cannot go out of doors.”
“Why not?” Maria asked in an awed voice. “Will the sunlight banish you?”
“Of course not, my dear Mrs. Thorne. This is London. I’d rather it not rain suddenly and dampen my hair. It will take hours of spellwork to fix the damage.”
Elizabeth reached out to touch Mrs. Egerton’s hair, but a fan slapped her hand hard enough to make it sting. “Do not touch a lady’s hair.”
Elizabeth rubbed at her stinging hand. “That hurt.”
“It was meant to. Were you raised in a barn, child?”
“How are you able to do that?” Maria asked. “I thought ghosts were, well, ghostly.”
It was apparent, however, that Mrs. Egerton did not wish to engage in a metaphysical discussion about ghosts manifesting. “Do you wish my assistance with the books, or do you desire a lecture on the nature of the occult? I can only do one of those tasks with the finite time granted to my existence.”
“Finite time? What does that mean?” Elizabeth asked. “Mrs. Egerton, are you dying? I understand that you are a ghost, of course, but...can a ghost fade?”
“Indeed, Mrs. Egerton. I am now rather a little worried for you,” Aunt Cass said.
“Is there a way we can help you?” Maria asked.
Mrs. Egerton sighed, though this sound was more weary than annoyed. A small smile came upon her face. “One of the pleasures of working with women is their consideration of others. I have been told that it is by habit, and not divine design, however, I do not know how to raise a man to have this habit.”
Elizabeth smiled back at the ghost. “Perhaps the confinement of society is what makes us ladies consider the other ladies in this polite prison.”
“Elizabeth!” Aunt Cass scolded. “Your life is not a prison. Surely, you do not mean that.”
“Only some days, Aunt.” Turning to Mrs. Egerton, who was silent for the exchange, Elizabeth said, “I would like you to tell us what you meant, if you are able, of course.”
“Shall we have tea first?” Mrs. Egerton asked.
“Do you...can you drink tea?” Aunt Cass asked.
“Of course, I can drink tea,” Mrs. Egerton said with disgust. “What am I? French?”
Elizabeth whispered, “My dear, Mrs. Egerton. I do believe the French also drink tea.”
Mrs. Egerton’s only answer was a snort of derision.
Aunt Cass leaned forward and whispered, “Where does it go?”
Mrs. Egerton rolled her eyes. “Are all ladies this curious? Goodness, how did men end up hiding you away from the occult if you are all so desperate for knowledge? If you must know, this body is formed by an incantation that gathers about the water and dust around me. If I were to drink tea, the small bits that I do not need go back out around me. Perhaps a little condensation will form on a window nearest me.”
“That is amazing,” Maria said.
“But, what is it that you need to tell us?” Elizabeth asked. Gracious, her aunt and friend were more curious about the ghost than she was!
“Thank you for bringing us back to the important information, Miss Knight. The incantation you used to summon me is limited. I will be available to appear as this for about a fortnight or so and then the spell will fade permanently. From there, Miss Knight will have to learn how to do the incantations herself to bring me forth.”
“Surely, you could help, Mrs. Egerton,” Elizabeth said.
“Only while in this form,” the ghost said. “Once the magic that was stored in the book for your use is gone, it is gone. That means I will be once again locked away in slumber until you can unlock it. Therefore, I suggest that we sort through these books, set aside all that you will need, and then get to work assembling your team of occult experts.”
Elizabeth blinked. “Team of occult experts? I need a team?”
“Indeed. You have no magical training, beyond your uncle’s limited instruction. I assume you are not a master of magical botany, chemicals, medicine, Latin, or Greek? I leave off French and Italian, since all girls of decent upbringing know those languages.”
“I do not, beyond what I have taught myself,” Elizabeth said softly.
“Not even French?” Mrs. Egerton exclaimed. “Good God, child. What kind of country upbringing did you have?”
“My stepmother and father did not approve of girls learning languages. They preferred to teach more useful pursuits, such as sewing, accounts, and reading.”
“How lucky we are that you can read a sentence, then,” Mrs. Egerton’s caustic voice said.
Elizabeth winced at the criticism. “I am sorry, ma’am, but I must defend my stepmother on this score. She was only doing what she felt was right. I am, after all, nothing but the penniless daughter of a country rector. At best, I would marry a country squire. I was sent to a school to help with the things I would need most in life. Accounts, sewing, reading. Those are useful skills for a wife, who will then have to teach her own children. I do not fault my stepmother and I kindly ask that no one criticize her in my hearing.”
“Eliza...” Maria said with a lot of kindness in her voice. “Augusta Knight was awful to you.”
“Nevertheless,” Elizabeth said. “I must insist upon silence on this matter.”
“Well,” Mrs. Egerton said, interrupting the two friends. “In any case, there is no point to dwell on insufficient parents. We have work to do.”