The women gave Aurelia a collection of exasperated looks.
“No, right—that’s why you’re so upset. So, this is my bookshop, and what happens is, if I set books on that table there”—Aurelia pointed—“then characters from the books appear.”
The women stared at her blankly.
“I know, it’s incredibly awe-inspiring!” Aurelia said excitedly.
She never got tired of explaining how the shop worked to characters who hadn’t visited before, always eager to share with them what she’d had to keep secret from her friends and family.
“I was shocked the first time it happened, but it’s been happening for years. My aunt and great aunt and great-great aunt—”
Aurelia was interrupted mid-sentence as the older woman grew restless.
“Yes, that is all well and good. You come from a long line of incompetent shopkeepers, we understand.”
“Hold on a minute,” Aurelia began. “That’s quite rude.”
“Rude!” snapped Blanche. “Apparently no one taughtyoumanners. Haven’t you ever learned that a hostess must greet her guests? If one can even call you a hostess.”
“Yes, ‘jailor’ seems more apt,” agreed the older woman.
Aurelia became very conscious of Julia, who was hopefully still asleep upstairs. She lowered her voice to signal to the others that they needed to speak in more measured tones.
“Look, I’m not a jailor. I’m sorry you’re unhappy. No one’s ever been upset about showing up here before.”
Aurelia suddenly remembered that there was, in fact, one time when a young female character had told Aurelia to take her book off the table so that she could leave, but they’d worked things out eventually. And Count Vronsky, too, had asked to leave once—but again, he calmed down and changed his mind.
“The last time I was down here, just two nights ago, I met Jane and Rochester,” Aurelia continued, looking at Blanche. “And I met Lizzy and Darcy,” she said, looking at the younger woman. “And also Matty and Peter. They liked being here and getting to know one another.”
“If you think I’m going to sit down and socialize just because Mr. Rochester thought it was a lark, you are very much mistaken,” seethed Blanche.
“And Lizzy likes all sorts of things that I don’t. Just because we’re sisters doesn’t mean I want to be surrounded by books like her.”
“As for Matty and Peter,” the older woman said, drawing herself up and taking on her most patronizing tone yet. “They are very dear acquaintances, to be sure, but there is a certain social standing that separates us. In any case, Peter is an eccentric, as you no doubt have noticed. It is hardly surprising he would find this sort of thing amusing, and of course Matty would be happy to go along where he leads. ButIam notthey.”
“Yes, but who are you?” Aurelia asked, still struggling to place the woman.
“I am Mrs. Jamieson, if you must know.”
Aurelia racked her brain but came up short.Well, it’s someone snooty, anyway, she told herself.
“And your name?” she asked the younger woman.
“Kitty Bennet.”
“Oh, Lizzy’s younger sister!”
“Yes, and Lydia’s older sister, if you must know,” Kitty said, puffing herself up in an apparent imitation of Mrs. Jamieson.
“Alright. Well, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you this evening. I didn’t realize I’d have a new batch of charact—people—to meet. This has never happened before, actually—a sudden change in who’s appeared from the table’s books.”
She looked around, thinking that the women might be interested in the anomaly, but it was clear that thought was misplaced.
“It would be lovely to chat with you and get to know you if you’d like to stay for a bit?” she added hopefully.
“No, thank you. As I said, I should like to return to my home. It is not my habit to pass the time with shopkeepers.”
Aurelia tried not to laugh at Mrs. Jamieson’s dogged snobbery, but it wasn’t easy.
