“‘Desperate’? I’ll have you know I am considered the beauty of the county. Desperate, indeed!”
“Okay, but wouldn’t you like to have money so you don’t have to bother getting married, or at least not to someone you don’t even like?” Julia wheedled.
“Of course I should like to be wealthy. I should like quite a lot of things, but it is no use wishing and hoping. One must take action where one can.”
“Right—Aunt Aurelia can take action and write you a new story. Maybe you can get a job somewhere, or open your own shop.”
“A ‘job’? If you refer to labor, then I’ll thank you not to attempt a story on my behalf.”
“I don’t think the solution here is for me to write anything,” Aurelia interjected, remembering how badly it had gone when she’d tried to write Harriet’s story without her heart being in it. “Sergeant Cuff, isn’t this supposed to be aboutJulia, not me?”
Sergeant Cuff had been chatting with Miss Clack, though Aurelia had noticed that he was only partially focused on their conversation.
“I agree, Aurelia. I do not believe that you can resolve whatever brought these women here, but that Julia must do so.”
“I have to write them all new stories? But I hate writing.”
Aurelia filed Julia’s answer away for a future conversation, deciding instead to focus on the matter at hand.
“Is this really about writing new stories for them?” she asked Cuff.
“I am not at all convinced that it is,” he said.
“I should like a new story,” Kitty said, stepping forward. “I want to marry Wickham. Or Darcy—or Bingley, for that matter. Or, no! I should like to marry someone ten times as wealthy as Darcy!”
“Are we putting in requests, then?” Mrs. Jamieson asked with interest. “I can imagine one or two things I should like to change in my own story.”
“No, that’s not really on offer,” Aurelia said, trying to hide the annoyance in her voice. “I can’t completely rewrite your stories. That’s not what I do, or at least it’s not what I’ve done. And I wouldn’t do it. I mean, I’m not going to unmarry Lizzy and Darcy!”
“What about Lydia and Wickham, then?” Kitty asked hopefully.
“I won’t unmarry them, either. Look, if I undid everything that happens in your stories, you wouldn’t be who you are now, and your family and friends wouldn’t be who they are. Mrs. Jamieson—if things had been different for Miss Matty, then she might not have been reunited with her brother. And Kitty—if I wrote that Lydia and Wickham didn’t get married, then Lizzy wouldn’t have seen Darcy’s good qualities, and she and Jane might not have married the men they love.”
“The butterfly effect.” Julia nodded sagely.
“That’s right—change one moment or event, and everything else changes. If it was just a matter of changing what might happen in your own future, that might be alright, but the past isn’t that simple. One change to your books could undo what happens in your friends’ and families’ lives—things they wouldn’t want to be any different than they are.” Aurelia looked around at Blanche, Kitty, and Mrs. Jamieson, then added for good measure, “I won’t do it.”
“Great, back to square one,” Julia groaned.
“If you want to figure out why each of them is here, you’ll need to keep talking with everyone,” Aurelia advised her. “Really dig in, Julia. Why don’t you and Kitty go up to the window seat and Kitty can tell you about herself. Ask her where she lives, what her family’s like, what she does and doesn’t like to do.” As she spoke, Aurelia remembered she was talking to two teenagers who wouldn’t like being bossed around, so she added breezily, “That’s what I would do, anyway.”
Julia looked to Kitty and asked, “Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” Kitty said with a smile.
48
JuliaandKittychattedtogether for hours, though Aurelia suspected they were sometimes dipping into subjects, like fashion and boys, that wouldn’t help Julia much. They stayed in the shop until dawn, waving goodbye to the characters as they shifted back into their books. Not only did the characters shift back, but small mists rose up from all around the shop, floating up from bookshelves, Aurelia’s desk, and the armchair.
“What are those?” Julia asked.
“I’m pretty sure they’re Miss Clack’s tracts. She was probably hoping someone would stumble on one and be inspired to start reading about their sinful ways.”
“Like living with your fiancé before your wedding,” Julia said with a sly smile as they walked up the spiral staircase.
“That’s me: fallen woman and common shopkeeper.”
Aurelia awoke to the smell of freshly brewed tea coming in from the kitchen. She smiled and stretched herself awake, knowing she would find Oliver out there getting ready to leave for work.
