“Not at all!I know what I observed and what was told to me in the course of my story, but nothing else.It would be very intrusive if I did, would it not?”
“Right, yes.”Aurelia felt foolish before reminding herself that she couldn’t possibly know, let alone guess, the ‘rules’ of the shop and its characters after only a few nights with them.So she asked another question.
“And your ending—I remember you went back into retirement, but what happened after that?”
“I am still living the ending.I returned to my cottage and assume that I will continue to enjoy the life I lead there—cultivating my roses and infuriating my housekeeper.”
“You don’t know what happens after your book ends?”
“I do not, no more than you or I know what will happen tomorrow, or the day after.”
She thought for a moment, then asked, “Were any of those the question you had in mind?”
“No, none was the question I referred to earlier.”
“Are you willing to tell me without my guessing?”
“I think the question will occur to you when the time is ripe for an answer.Therefore, I will keep my counsel until then.”
Trying hard to keep from huffing in disappointment like a nineteenth-century heroine, Aurelia nodded.
“I am happy to discuss any other topics that may interest you.Might I suggest rose propagation?It is one of my favorite topics, and I have much occasion to reflect upon it in my retirement.”
Opening her mouth to come up with an excuse—in his novel, Cuff was like a dog with a bone when it came to roses—Aurelia was saved by the arrival of Elinor and Marianne at the top of the stairs.
“May we join you?”Elinor asked.
Cuff stood, bowing to them.
“Please, ladies, you are very welcome.Were you, perchance, seeking to discuss the propagation of rose varieties?”
Marianne pulled a face, while Elinor said smoothly, “We were not, Sergeant Cuff.We had hoped to discuss literature with Aurelia.”
“Then I shall leave you and allow you to pursue that topic to your contentment.”
Sergeant Cuff made another slight bow to the women, then walked to the spiral staircase and descended to the floor below.Marianne and Elinor joined Aurelia on the window seat, setting off their own small, momentary wisps of words before Marianne leaned toward Aurelia, her entire body tense with excitement.
“Rachel was telling us about the modern literature of her time!She mentioned an author called Dickens and another called Trollope.Have you read their works?I wish I could—they sound delightful.”
Marianne paused for a breath and Aurelia realized it was her turn to speak.
“Dickens and Trollope, modern?”She thought for a moment and then remembered thatSense and Sensibilitywas set in the 1790s, decades before Dickens began publishing his work.“Well, I guess you could say that.”
“I once met David Copperfield in the shop.He is one of Mr.Dickens’ characters,” Elinor explained to Marianne.“I found him very amiable and well-mannered.”
“Who were you with on that occasion?”Marianne seemed to struggle to keep the envy from her voice.
“Margaret and I were together.She liked Mr.Copperfield very much and said she wished she could return to his book instead of ours.”
“As do I,” sighed Marianne.
“Dickens was a fantastic writer.His stories are full of vivid characters, and twists and turns.”
From Marianne’s dismayed look, Aurelia realized she might have overdone her enthusiasm.
“But your author, Jane Austen, is also known for writing really engaging characters.Have you met her other characters when you were visiting the shop?”
“I once met a woman named Elizabeth Darcy and her father, Mr.Bennet,” Marianne offered.“I understand they also came from Miss Austen’s pen.”
