“I can’t wait for you to see this,” Olivia said with genuine excitement, motioning towards the door. “You’re going to adore it.”
With a curious smile, Theodosia followed her inside and immediately came to a halt just beyond the threshold. The air was filled with the warm scent of aged paper and wood polish. Towering shelves crammed with books lined the walls in every direction. A wide, arched ceiling gave the room an almost cathedral-like sense of reverence.
Olivia beamed at her reaction. “Is it not spectacular?”
Theodosia’s voice was hushed in awe. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Not even close.”
Olivia pointed towards a doorway on their left. “That leads to the salon. Ladies gather there to play card games, gossip, and engage in what they call serious conversation.” She grinned. “Come—I want to show you the books written by women.”
She led Theodosia to a long shelf tucked along the back wall. With great reverence, Olivia ran her fingers along the spines as though greeting old friends. “Every book here was written by a woman,” she explained.
“I had no idea so many women had written books.”
“Oh, many more than you think. But these women”—she tapped one of the covers—“were brave enough to claim their words.”
Theodosia plucked a small volume from the shelf, its cloth cover faded but the title embossed in gold. “Can anyone borrow these?”
“You must have a subscription,” Olivia explained. “But the annual fee is less than two pounds, which is entirely manageable for a single reader.”
“A fair price, considering what’s available to us,” Theodosia replied.
“My mother is a patron here,” Olivia said with a note of pride. She opened a nearby volume and inhaled its scent. “She always believed in supporting women’s education.”
“That is most generous of her.”
Olivia lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Would you care to see the scandalous French romances?”
Theodosia laughed. “I doubt I have a choice in the matter.”
With a gleam in her eye, Olivia guided her to another section, whispering as they walked, “Some critics claim these libraries encourage laziness and corrupt young ladies with fantastical ideas.”
“I disagree.”
“As do I,” Olivia said firmly. “It’s not as though I confuse Gothic horrors with everyday life.”
“I should hope not,” Theodosia responded, giggling.
They reached another row of shelves, and Olivia immediately began selecting books. “This one you must read,” she said, thrusting a volume into Theodosia’s hands. “And this one. Oh! You’ll absolutely love this.”
Before long, Theodosia was cradling an ever-growing stack of books, each one insisted upon with the same enthusiasm. She looked down at the pile and laughed. “I think I have enough to last me a fortnight—at the very least.”
Olivia smiled with satisfaction. “That’s the spirit.”
Theodosia crossed the room and made her way to an empty reading table tucked near a tall window. The sunlight filtered through the glass panes. With a slight huff, she set her burden down. “They were becoming rather heavy,” she shared.
Olivia joined her a moment later, brushing a few errant curls from her brow before plucking the top book from the stack. She turned it over in her hands, her expression thoughtful. “Dosia,” she asked, “have you ever been in love?”
Caught off guard by the question, Theodosia straightened the spine of one of the books before replying, “No. I haven’t.”
Olivia’s brow arched, curiosity still flickering in her gaze. “Any offers of marriage?”
Theodosia gave a small nod. “A gentleman from my village recently offered for me.”
Olivia carefully returned the book to the top of the pile. “And you refused him?”
“I did,” Theodosia confirmed, glancing down at her hands. “He was kind, respectable and a landowner. Everyone said I ought to be pleased, but… I didn’t love him.”
“You want love, then?”
