Chapter Six
Evans Principle 6: There’s always more than one person to please. Consolidate your efforts but never compromise yourself.
“So where were you last week, Honoria?” Predictably, that would be the first thing Marissa would ask. The tenacious Mrs. Marissa Clarke always dove headfirst into whatever question preoccupied her. Some might even say she resembled a bulldog, with her stout, solid body and her snub nose. One could never say Marissa gave them the wrong impression. People saw exactly who she was and what her intentions were; she saw no need for finesse or tact. Such subtlety was the job of the sisters, Mrs. Helena Martin and Mrs. Elizabeth Addison, the same Helena and Elizabeth who sat across the room by the picture window, ostensibly minding their knitting. They’d appear so even if they were eavesdropping; such was a skill they’d mastered as children in their father’s study.
“A business opportunity arose,” Honoria explained, “a dinner hosted by Lady Rose Devin, and I thought it would be an excellent chance to make some new connections. The guests were among the country’s most touted intellectuals. I made sure to offer them my card in hopes of having them do public readings at the shop. I suspect one or two might even be open to disseminating our more controversial work.”
“Speaking of which,” Marissa replied, “I think Helena has new information for us from a visit with some Bethnal Green children. But that can wait. How did you come to be acquainted with Lady Devin?”
“By chance, really. Her son Lord Alexander Devin purchased a book from Evans as a birthday present for his mother. I suppose he must have mentioned the encounter and she must have thought it would be conducive to have a bookseller among the book authors.”
“Sensible enough. Seems peculiar, though. How often does one make a purchase at a shop and think to make the seller’s personal acquaintance? Sure, we all know the shopkeepers along your row and at most establishments who can garner us access to information, but we’ve cultivated those acquaintances purposefully.”
By now, Elizabeth had given up the pretense of talking needlework with Helena and piped up, “Marissa, you seem to be leading us to a particular conclusion. What is it?”
“I was simply testing your hearing, dearie,” Marissa shot back with a sly grin. But then she added, “It seems unlikely the Devin family would take an interest in you, Honoria, so suddenly. I don’t know why, but my gut feels unsettled about the invitation and abrupt familiarity.”
“What familiarity? I attended a dinner with thirty other guests.” She felt a need to keep silent about the events that transpired in the Devin library. Familiar, indeed. Marissa’s forwardness was due in no small part to her keen intuition; her instincts were nearly unnatural in their accuracy. Why should this time be any different?
“It’s not like you to be secretive, Honoria.”
“I’m not being secretive. There is very little to say about the event. I attended dinner; I conversed on a wide array of topics with several well-known writers, which was quite an honor. And I hope I made enough of an impression on them that I can call upon them in the future to help further the success of the shop. As I said, it was a rare business opportunity I felt I could not decline.”
This time Helena inserted herself into the discussion with “Strange as it may seem, I agree with Marissa. I know what it is! The invitation was based on Lord Devin coming to your shop for a book. That in itself is rather unusual. Moreover, you’ve said nothing about your dealings with Lord Devin. Something must have happened to garner enough of his attention that he had his mother invite you.”
This was too much.
“Ladies, there is really very little to tell about dinner or about the Devins. They are lovely people, and I was uncommonly fortunate to be rather randomly invited. Let us not get caught up in trivialities. We have work to do.”
True enough. Whether they were genuinely dissuaded or simply acceding to her obvious desire not to talk further about the subject, Marissa went to get some knitting out of a basket in the corner. Honoria inwardly breathed a large sigh of relief and made her way toward where the other two ladies were seated, stopping to pick up her satchel along the way. Each of the women placed their yarn projects on their laps, pieces large enough to hide the notepaper on which their reports to the group were based. If anyone happened to make an unscheduled visit, they could easily secret their work away in their needle projects between the butler’s announcement of the visitor and the actual presentation of said visitor in the drawing room. Even when they met at Honoria’s more humble abode, they maintained the pretense of knitting or needlepoint and occasionally even finished some of those projects as they worked through more important strategies. Helena’s interviews took precedence this evening, and they quickly moved far away from discussion of Lord Devin, his mother, and the peculiar dinner invitation, although Honoria’s thoughts didn’t stray far enough from them.