“Are we headed home, sir?” the driver called down from his perch.
“Yes, Jacob, we are.”
“Very good, sir.”
Richard climbed inside, and the footman closed the door. As soon as the carriage started moving, Grace commenced with the interrogation. She pulled the blanket over her legs up to her waist and twisted her upper torso as best she could to face him.
“So, what did the doctor say? Did he tell you anything different? Why did you smile and seem so pleased when you came out of his office? Why did we have to make another appointment? And is anything in that sack for me?”
Mother sighed and leaned back against the cushioned interior. “I’m certainly happy to know you shall handle this barrage of questions. I believe I’ll take advantage of our long ride and rest a spell.”
Richard patted his mother’s hand. “It’s been a long day, and I appreciate your being available to stay with Grace. Now close your eyes and don’t give us another thought.”
His mother did just that, and Richard focused his attention on his niece. Her last question stuck out. He glanced at the sack from Cobblestone Books, lying on the bench. He should have known she’d see that right away. He couldn’t hide it anywhere other than with the driver, but he’d wanted the books with them inside the carriage so he could present them to Grace.
“All right. One question at a time. First, the doctor complimented us on continuing with the exercises every day, and he said it has helped you stay strong despite your paralysis. He was quite impressed with how you responded to the tests he performed, and he wants to see you again so he can conduct a few more tests before deciding if you’re able to have surgery.”
“Surgery?” Her eyes brightened. “You mean he thinks something can be done to help me? He actually said he can do it?”
“He didn’t say he could guarantee anything, but he did say he had a good feeling about it all. He’ll know more after your next appointment. We can talk more about it then.”
“All right.” She placed her hands primly in her lap and smiled. “Now, what is in the sack? Is it for me?”
“As a matter of fact”—he moved the sack to his lap—“there is something in here for you.” He peeked inside then gave Grace a teasing grin. “But I am not certain I should show you everything at once. Perhaps just one at a time.”
“One at a time is fine with me!” Grace clapped in rapid succession. “I can make the fun last longer that way.”
“Very well.” Richard reached inside the sack, intentionally making a grand show of retrieving the first book. He nearly laughed at the anxious expression on Grace’s face and the way her fingers wiggled, as if they itched to hold the treasure he would soon produce. “This is your first surprise.”
“Oh! A new book!” Grace reached across the space between the two seats to take possession of the copy of Ivanhoe Richard handed to her. “Sir Walter Scott,” she read then looked at her uncle. “So what is this one about?”
Richard breathed a silent prayer of thanks that Miss Pringle had given him a brief sumLaura of each book as she pulled it from the shelves. “That one is about a man named Ivanhoe who comes home from the Crusades and gets caught in the middle of a battle between King Richard, the Lionheart, and his brother, John. But all he really wants to do is claim his inheritance and the woman he loves, Rowena.”
“King Richard? That’s your name.”
He chuckled again. “Well, yes, only I am not a king.”
“I bet you could be one if you had to be.”
Ah, the unfailing trust of a child. It warmed his heart to see how much his niece loved him. “Thank you for that, Grace. But I think I’ll leave the kingdom ruling to those in royalty. I have enough to worry about here without having to think about making decisions for an entire country.”
Grace tilted her head and stared at the cover of the book. “I think I agree. I would much rather read about them than live like them.” She set the book down and held out a hand for the next. “Can I see the next surprise?”
“Please?”
“Please,” she added dutifully.
He reached in and pulled out Oliver Twist, hesitating a moment before handing it to her. “Now, this one I only want you reading during the day, and I would like you to read it when I am nearby.”
She took the book and looked at the title. “Why? Is it scary?”
“Not so much scary as it contains some parts that could make you very sad, and some people in the story are very cruel. I want you nearby so you can ask questions or talk about the book when you want.”
“All right.” She shrugged.
Richard hadn’t been too sure about that book when Miss Pringle had suggested it. He’d read it himself as a boy, but that was just it. He was a boy. And he didn’t mind the fights or the orphanage or the street scenes. Some might say it wasn’t proper reading for a young girl, but that had never stopped him before. Besides, his brother and sister-in-law had told him many times about the kinds of books Grace read. She was wise beyond her years, and he was confident she could handle the story.
“I’m going to give you the rest of the books all at once. No sense prolonging the surprise since you already have two of them.”
Her eyes widened, and excitement lit up her face. “How many more are there?”
“Three,” he replied, “for a total of five.” He handed Nicholas Nickleby, The Three Musketeers, and Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland to her and waited for her to read the titles.
“I haven’t heard of this Nicholas one, but I know the other two. Mother loved to read—” She fell silent.
Richard leaned forward and touched her hand. “It’s all right, Grace. It’s only been a few months. Memories of your mother and father and all the good times you shared are sure to make you sad. You miss them a lot. So do I.”
She looked up with unshed tears gathering in her eyes. He wanted nothing more than to pull her onto his lap and comfort her. So he moved from his seat and squeezed in between her and the side of the carriage then lifted her into his lap. Several tears fell and moistened his coat, leaving a damp spot where they soaked into the material.
He brushed back her hair from her face and kissed the top of her head. “And now we have another reason for you to have these new books. Every one you read will help you remember your mother and father that much more, and we can discuss those memories together. Miss Pringle assured me you would love all five books, and I have no doubt about that.”
“Miss Pringle?” Grace leaned back and looked at him. She wiped at her eyes and sniffled. “You saw Miss Pringle today? So you went to Cobblestone Books for these.”
The abrupt change in her demeanor made him press back against the cushion. One minute, she was mourning the loss of her beloved parents, and the next, her eyes were bright with inquisitiveness and a spark of mischief. It felt like night and day.
“Yes. Yes, I did.” Richard wiped the tear track on one of her cheeks and smiled. “Your appointment with the specialist was going to take a while, so I decided to make the journey and get you something special after having to endure all that testing.”
“What did you say to her? How long were you at the shop? Did she ask about me? About why I wasn’t there? Was her sister Anastasia there? When will you be seeing her again?”
He held up his hands. “Whoa! Again the barrage of questions. I can only answer so many.” Carefully shifting his position, Richard placed Grace back on the seat and arranged the blanket across her legs. Then he returned to his seat next to his dozing mother so he could see his niece better. She obviously didn’t need comforting anymore, so there was no reason for either one of them to be uncomfortable.
A sheepish grin appeared on her lips, and she ducked her head. “I’m sorry, Uncle Richard. But I wish I could have been there. I wish I could have seen you talking to her.”
“We’ll have to make sure you go next time.” Then his mind focused on the last part of her statement. “Wait a moment
. Why do you wish you could have seen me talking to her?”
The excitement returned. “When will we be going back?” she asked, ignoring his question.
Richard laughed. “I don’t know. I suppose it all depends on how long it takes you to read those books I just purchased for you and when you will need more material to read.”
Grace looked down at the books in her lap. “Oh, right. I will get started on them right away.” She placed both hands on top of the stack then fixed him with a probing gaze. “So what did the two of you talk about, and how long did you stay?”
If he hadn’t known any better, Richard might have thought his niece had turned into a detective or newspaper reporter.
“You answer my question, and I will answer yours. Fair is fair. Why do you wish you could have seen me talking to Miss Pringle?”
“No reason.” She looked away. “She seemed so nice, and you were in a better than good mood after meeting her. I spent most of the time with her sister, and I want to know more about Miss Pringle. That’s all.”
Richard wasn’t sure he believed that to be the only reason. Grace didn’t generally keep secrets from him. At least not that he noticed. But this time, she seemed to be acting more evasive than normal. Perhaps more would come out if he kept her talking.
“We talked about you, mostly,” he said, returning to her list of questions. “When I entered the shop, she looked around and remarked that I appeared to be missing someone.”
Grace smiled. “She remembered me.”
“Of course she did, you silly goose. You aren’t exactly easy to forget.”
A self-satisfied smile formed on her lips. “I know.”
Richard shook his head. Leave it to an eleven-year-old to be blunt and precocious. But at least he always knew how she felt and usually knew what she was thinking.
“What did you tell her about me?”
“Let’s see.” He placed his thumb and index finger on either side of his clean-shaven chin. “I told her about your appointment today and the other specialists we’ve seen. I told her about the accident, everything you told me about it.”
“Was she sad, too?”
“Yes. She was sad to hear you had to go through all of that. And sad you lost your parents.” He forced a brighter tone to his voice. “But she believes as I do that God has something very special planned for you. We just have to wait and see what He has up His sleeve.”
Grace giggled. “God doesn’t have sleeves.”
“And how do you know? Have you seen Him?”
“Nobody can see Him. He’s invisible and everywhere at once. But I know He doesn’t have sleeves.”
“And you are absolutely certain about that?”
She gave a succinct and determined nod of her head. “Absolutely.”
“Well, I’ll take your word for it. But I think I’m going to save my opinion until I can see for myself.”
“Then I will, too.” She again placed her hands in her lap. “Now, what else did you say to Miss Pringle about me?”
“Oh, we are back to that again, are we?” He grinned. “I thought we were done.”
“But you didn’t get to the best part.”
“What best part?”
She crossed her arms. “The part where you talked about the books I like.”
“And how do you know we talked about that?”
“Because she picked out these five books”—Grace touched the stack on her lap—“just for me. She wouldn’t have known which books to pick if you hadn’t told her what I liked.”
“How very astute of you.”
“I’m smart just like you, Uncle Richard.”
“Actually, I think your intelligence comes from your parents.” Best to keep his brother’s memory alive, along with Grace’s mother. He wanted her to be proud of them and of being their daughter.
“But you are my father’s brother,” she countered with stubborn certainty. “So you could have it, too.”
How could he argue with that logic? If she was this smart now, there was no telling what she’d be like as she got older. He might be in for quite the adventure. He only prayed he could keep up with her and give her everything she needed. If it weren’t for his mother’s assistance, he didn’t know how he’d manage. His life and their livelihood remained up in the air until the family business affairs were settled. But he didn’t want to think about that now.
“All right. You win.” He relaxed against the back of the seat cushion. “Intelligence runs in our family, and we all have it.” Richard glanced out the window and took note of their surroundings. “Why don’t you start reading one of your books? I’m going to close my eyes for a little rest until we reach home.”
“Very well.”
If only all instructions and decisions were received and made so easily.
Five
Charlotte pulled the needle through the cotton shift she was mending. Good thing the task didn’t require much of her attention. She doubted she could muster up much more concentration.
“Ouch!”
“Be careful, Charlotte,” Anastasia warned. “That’s the third time in the last ten minutes you’ve stuck yourself with the needle. You’re usually more attentive than that.”
She was. But lately she had trouble keeping her mind on anything other than her bookshop, Mr. Baxton, and his darling niece. After hearing the story of Grace’s accident, Charlotte felt her heart going out to the girl even more.
Three weeks. It had been three weeks since Charlotte had last seen Mr. Baxton. Despite it being foolish, she had begun watching for him after only one week. Common sense told her it had been a little over two weeks between his first and second visits, and this time, she had sent him home with one more book. But try telling that to her heart and the hope it held of seeing him again.
At least Anastasia had been occupied with her special school project. She’d only been at the bookshop one day a week, so Charlotte hadn’t had to endure too much teasing when she watched the door for Mr. Baxton’s appearance. At home, though, her sister was ruthless. She’d even managed to get their more peaceful sister, Bethany, involved.
“Charlotte? Are you all right?”
A hand on her arm made her stop mid-stitch. “What?” She turned to see Anastasia looking at her with concern.
“I asked if you were all right. Bethany and I have been telling you about the cotillion you missed last weekend. But you were miles away, lost in thought.”
Look at what daydreaming of Mr. Baxton did. She had to stop this.
“I’m sorry.” She dropped her shoulders and sighed, letting her hands and the shift fall to her lap. “I’m afraid my thoughts have been centered on the bookshop of late.”
Bethany glanced up. “Your shop—or on a certain gentleman customer?”
Anastasia giggled. “And his resilient niece.” The two younger sisters shared a private look. “Is it any wonder she’s managed to put the needle into her thumb more times than through the shift she’s mending?”
“This gentleman has our sister rather besotted.”
Charlotte sighed. She truly needed this. Straightforward, no-nonsense talk to help her clear her head. . .even if it was delivered courtesy of her scheming younger sisters.
Bethany leveled a suspicious look in her direction. “So is what Anastasia tells me true? You hear the bell above your shop door chime and every time hope it’s this Mr. Baxton returning to see you?”
“Yes,” she admitted in a whisper.
“I told you so.” Anastasia clapped her hands and bounced up and down as much as the wingback chair would allow. “Our dear Charlotte has finally met a man who has captured her attention. And now she wishes to make him her beau.”
“I never said I wanted him for a beau,” Charlotte protested.
Then again, perhaps her sister was right. She might not know much about Mr. Baxton, but she knew what was important. That he trusted God, cared deeply for his niece, accepted responsibility when it was given t
o him, and was a man of his word. She could certainly do far worse. But as of right now, their relationship was nothing more than friendship. If she could even call it that.
“You didn’t.” Anastasia nodded. “But you didn’t say you didn’t want him for a beau either,” she added with a smirk. “And with Mother called away to tend to dinner preparations, we have the freedom to pursue this line of questioning.”
Charlotte leveled a glare at her younger sister, but the girl wouldn’t be dissuaded.
“Come now, Anastasia.” Bethany maintained a level tone to her voice. “Let’s not take things too far.”
Ah good. A voice of reason. At least she had Bethany on her side.
“After all,” Bethany continued, turning back toward Charlotte with a gleam in her eyes. “If we’re not careful, we might cause our dear Charlotte to become exasperated and despondent. Then we’d never find out the secrets this gentleman possesses that have so enraptured our dear sister as to make her lose her concentration while performing the simple task of sewing.”
Charlotte slapped her hands on the arms of her chair. “That is not the way it is, at all, you two. You’re turning two minor little exchanges into something of extraordinary proportions.”
“But of course!” Anastasia spread her arms wide. “It’s what we do best! How else would we manage to extract the necessary information from you if not by extreme measures?”
Charlotte looked at her two sisters. Their faces indicated genuine earnestness. Then the corner of Anastasia’s mouth twitched.
“Ah-ha!” Charlotte pointed a finger at each one in turn, mirth bubbling up from inside. “I knew it. You two couldn’t fool anyone with that ruse.”
Bethany placed one hand on her chest and faked an innocent expression. “Why, whatever do you mean?” The batting of her eyelashes only made it worse.
Charlotte pressed her lips tight to hold back the laughter, and it came out more like a loud snort. That was all it took. The three sisters leaned toward one another as giggles and merriment overtook them.
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