Bound By Grace

by Amber Stockton

  Charlotte tapped a finger to her lips. “It’s been several months, now. Of course he doesn’t come around much during the winter.”

  “He appears to be quite thorough.”

  “Yes, he does excellent work.” Charlotte took two steps closer to Mr. Baxton and peered out the window. She didn’t want Zachariah to see her watching him, so she straightened an already tidy display. “He first approached me last summer, offering to wash my windows and complete any other tasks I might have.”

  “Does he live nearby?”

  Charlotte couldn’t determine why Mr. Baxton showed such interest in the lad. “Actually, he lives down by Brandywine Creek, but he spends a great deal of time in and around the park.” She picked up two books and held them against her chest. “From what he has told me, he comes here to look for work because there isn’t much opportunity where he lives.”

  Mr. Baxton turned to face her, compassion in his eyes. “It appears you hired well. I am certain some of my household staff would love to have a lad like him around to help with odd jobs.” A quick glance over his shoulder preceded a brief sigh. “Pity he doesn’t live closer to Ashbourne Hills.”

  Charlotte chuckled. “You might tell him that before he leaves. It’s sure to give him a great deal of pleasure coming from a gentleman such as yourself.”

  Mr. Baxton gave a succinct nod. “I believe I shall.” He turned to fully face her, merriment dancing in eyes the color of caramel. “Now, before we proceed any further with our conversation, Miss Pringle, allow me to apologize for not bestowing a greeting upon my arrival. I must confess I overheard your instructions to the lad and saw how he set right to work, and it distracted me.”

  “That is quite all right, Mr. Baxton. But to reassure you, your apology is accepted.”

  He gave a slight bow. “Thank you very much.”

  Instead of stepping behind the counter, Charlotte remained at the end of it. Far too often, she felt the counter placed a barrier between her and her customers. Sometimes she needed that distance. But at times like this one, the obstruction hindered the conversation.

  “Has Grace finished the books I sent home with you last, and might you be here for more?”

  “Yes.” He followed her to the counter. “And once again, I must praise you for your excellent selections. I had a great deal of difficulty pulling Grace away from those books to see to her studies.”

  She placed one hand over her chest. “Oh, I am truly sorry.”

  He brushed off her apology with a wave of his hand, his gaze direct. “I didn’t say that to cause contrition on your part; rather, I meant to demonstrate how much she enjoyed reading those stories.” He snapped his fingers. “Ah yes, and Oliver Twist. She had the most questions about that one, but I did as you suggested and only allowed her to read it when she was in my presence. It worked out rather well. She read parts of it aloud.” A smile formed on his lips. “Brought back memories of when I read it as a boy.”

  “I am pleased to hear she handled it well. Some younger readers become quite affected when they read it. Either they are frightened by the characters of Fagin and Bill Sykes, or they are overcome with remorse about the situations. Mr. Dickens went into great detail in that dark tale.”

  As if life for some children didn’t already come with its fair share of challenges. To read such a grim story and to see the corrupt institutions in England depicted in such a vile manner would make even the most stalwart reader experience a strong pang of conscience.

  Mr. Baxton allowed a half grin and placed his free hand in his pocket. “Well, perhaps the next collection of books I bring her will not contain any brooding stories.”

  “I shall endeavor to make certain of that.”

  The bell above the door jingled, and Charlotte looked up to see an acquaintance of hers enter. Amelia Devonshire had been a self-named friend for many years, but she also spent most of her time seeking out gossip-worthy details to share with everyone she knew. Most of the time, she did so without malicious intent. A few times, however, the gossip had turned sour, and the object of Amelia’s tales had suffered greatly.

  “Good afternoon, my dear Charlotte.” Amelia swept into the shop like a feather on a cloud, full of grace and effortless elegance.

  “Good afternoon, Amelia. How nice of you to come for a visit.”

  Charlotte cast a quick glance at Mr. Baxton, grateful his back was to Amelia. He narrowed his eyes slightly and seemed to pick up on something she conveyed. Had she visibly reacted to Amelia’s appearance? If so, she hoped Amelia hadn’t seen it, too. Regardless, Mr. Baxton stepped away from the counter, allowing Amelia the chance to approach.

  “Miss Pringle, thank you again for your suggestion,” he said. “I believe I shall spend a little time browsing before making my final decision.” With a nod, he disappeared down the aisle that housed books similar to the ones he’d purchased earlier.

  “Should you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask,” she called to his retreating back.

  “Well, it isn’t often I have the opportunity to visit while you actually have a customer.” Amelia stepped closer. Taking Charlotte’s hands in hers, she gave them a light squeeze and smiled. “It appears most of what I have been hearing about your increased patronage of late is true. How have you been, dear?”

  ❧

  Richard stayed close to the front, peeking around the books in order to observe Miss Pringle interacting with the other young woman. They kept their voices low, but he could read Miss Pringle’s facial expressions. The conversation made her both wary and uncomfortable. He didn’t dare move closer and risk revealing his attempt at eavesdropping. He shouldn’t be doing it anyway. But something about Miss Pringle’s mannerisms compelled him to keep watch. The other young lady likely didn’t intend any harm, but Richard still felt protective.

  “Is the gentleman in question present in your shop this very moment?”

  Uh-oh! Richard hadn’t heard Miss Pringle’s response or even the comment that led to the woman’s question. But since he was the object of their conversation, he should appear preoccupied. Unfortunately, Richard couldn’t determine what these books in front of him had in common. Since he should be browsing through the books suitable for Grace, he would have no choice but to confess his guilt were someone to ask.

  Richard developed an odd sense that someone watched him as he stood in the aisle, staring at the shelves. From the corner of his eye, he cast a look to his left and caught sight of the young woman Miss Pringle addressed as Amelia. The lady—if one could call her that—unabashedly stared at him and made no attempt to hide her lack of discretion. He did his best to remain still, appearing as unaffected as he could manage, until she disappeared from view.

  A few moments later, Charlotte’s visitor turned toward the door, but not before casting a final glance in his direction. The young woman departed, leaving him alone again with Miss Pringle. A moment or two later, another customer entered, but he went straight to a specific section of books without a word to anyone.

  Richard waited several more minutes before locating the section where he’d find books for Grace. After pulling two from the shelf, he made his way to the front of the shop. Miss Pringle looked up when he approached, then quickly averted her gaze, busying herself with straightening an already immaculate area around the cash register. He had seen only one other such register during his time spent along the Ohio River. It had been invented in Dayton, and he had spoken to James Ritty in Cincinnati about the inspiration behind the creation. He’d have to ask Miss Pringle how she came to acquire one, but not now. She glanced over his shoulder toward the back of the shop, no doubt looking after her most recent customer.

  “I believe I’ve found two more books Grace will enjoy,” he said without preamble.

  Miss Pringle turned to face him, fully composed. “Wonderful.” Her smile seemed genuine, but a hint of wariness lay just behind it. She took the books from him and looked at the titles. “Ah yes. Little Women and
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.” She totaled them on the register, and he handed her the cash. “Both excellent choices,” she said as the drawer popped open with a loud bell. She placed his money inside then handed him his change. “They will give her several hours of entertainment.”

  “Yes. I wanted to give her a little easy reading after the last set.” He narrowed his eyes slightly and studied her face. “Forgive me for being presumptuous, Miss Pringle, but is everything all right? You do not seem quite yourself today.” Richard jerked a thumb toward the door. “I hope your last visitor didn’t upset you.”

  “No, no. Amelia can be rather trying, but speaking with her didn’t affect me adversely.” She glanced down at her hands, as if trying to decide whether to share anything with him.

  Richard held up a hand. “If you do not wish to speak of it, I understand. As I said, I don’t wish to pry.”

  A soft smile formed on her lips. “Thank you. I appreciate your concern. Since you did ask, however. . .” She paused then sighed. “I am rather troubled over my mother and the many social engagements she has arranged for me to attend this season. She seems to have no interest in my responsibilities here at the shop. Instead, she tells me repeatedly that I must see to my duty as the eldest daughter and attend because it’s expected of me.”

  “And I am certain you have spoken with her about this.” He might not know Miss Pringle well, but certain aspects of her character shone clear and bright. She didn’t strike him as a young woman who would avoid speaking her mind when the situation called for it.

  Sadness overtook her features. “Yes, but every time we speak of it, the result is the same.”

  “Let me guess. She would prefer you remain home and attend these social affairs rather than be involved with this bookshop at all.”

  “Yes, that is it exactly.” She brightened somewhat. “My father is responsible for securing this location and assisting me with the loan, as well as collecting books initially so I could open with inventory. My mother didn’t want any part of it.”

  Richard nodded. “And now she feels the bookshop is interfering with you being present as her oldest daughter at these events.”

  “I’m afraid that is true.”

  He placed a hand lightly over her fingers, and she startled but didn’t pull away. It was a bold move, but he felt the situation warranted it. After waiting for her to make eye contact, Richard softened his expression and allowed the corners of his mouth to turn upward.

  “This might not be much consolation, but my older sister endured a similar situation with our mother. Laura didn’t care much for the social affairs. She preferred to spend her time reading and studying mathematics. But after much coaxing, she heeded our mother’s wishes and met the man she eventually married. Now she lives with him in Ohio, where together, they own a general store.” He chuckled. “And she manages their accounting books.”

  “If only it were that simple. The only thing my mother wants is to see me suitably matched. My happiness doesn’t seem to be of any concern to her.”

  Richard gave her hand a slight squeeze. “Don’t give up, Miss Pringle. It might not seem possible right now, but circumstances can change rather quickly. Before you know it, you, too, could find happiness and a match that pleases your mother.”

  “I truly hope it happens that way.”

  If only he were in a position to be more than a friend. But not yet. He had a few business matters to settle first. An idea struck him. He removed his hand and snapped his fingers then pointed in her direction.

  “I know exactly what you need. And it would be perfect for Grace as well.”

  Her brow knitted in confusion, and for the briefest of seconds, she glanced down at her hand, as if missing the physical contact. He thought he imagined it, but when she looked at him again, he saw a spark in her eyes.

  “And what is that, Mr. Baxton?”

  “First, I would like to invite you to join Grace and me on a picnic in the park the next time we visit. My cook will provide all the food.” He gave her what he hoped was an inviting look paired with a hint of playfulness. “You only need to bring yourself and your smile.”

  It worked.

  The smile absent from her face since Miss Amelia first came through the door returned. “I should like that very much. Thank you.” A twinkle entered her eyes. “And second?”

  Second? He blinked a few times to clear his head. Why had he allowed himself to be distracted by her smile and the softness in her features?

  “Second. Yes. I would like you to call me Richard.” He held up a hand and stayed her potential protest. “You have become an important part of Grace’s life. . .and mine. And I feel situations like ours allow for less formality.”

  She nodded. “Very well. But only if you will also call me Charlotte.”

  Richard almost took a step back at her easy agreement. He thought for sure he’d have to persuade with more than that one argument. Perhaps she had been thinking along the same lines, but propriety prevented her from saying anything.

  “Consider it done.” He reached out and raised her fingers to his lips. “Until next time, Miss Charlotte Pringle,” he said with a wink. “I shall return in two weeks’ time.”

  “I look forward to it and to seeing Grace, as well.”

  He released her hand, took his two books, replaced his hat, and turned to leave. At the front door, he tipped the edge of his hat in her direction, maintaining eye contact until the door closed between them. With her blush-tinged face indelibly printed on his mind, he knew the next two weeks would be the longest yet.

  Seven

  “Are we almost there, Uncle Richard?” Grace’s pleading made Richard smile. “How much longer?”

  Richard looked out the carriage window and saw one of the mills along the Brandywine. “I would estimate about five more minutes.” He raised one eyebrow. “Are you certain you can manage patience for that long?”

  “I cannot guarantee it, but I shall try.”

  Honest to a fault. He always knew where he stood with her or what she was feeling. Some might consider that to be brazen in a young girl of her age, but Richard found it refreshing and endearing. It only made him love her that much more. Oh, what his brother was missing. Why had God chosen to take those two lives now? Just when Grace needed them most.

  “I can see the river. We’re almost there!” Grace clapped in rapid succession, her eyes fixed on the window opposite her.

  Good. He could let Grace watch for the bookshop. He needed to plan a little on what he would say to Miss Pringle—that is, Charlotte—once they arrived. Her given name didn’t yet come easily to his mind or his lips. He’d been working on it every day since their last meeting. It had nothing to do with the familiarity he’d requested. That he wanted more than anything. But he still battled with whether he overstepped the bounds of propriety in making the request. And he left so soon after. Was Charlotte regretting her agreement? Did she think him ill-mannered or disrespectful? He certainly hoped not.

  “Uncle Richard! We’re here!”

  Grace didn’t exactly have to announce their arrival. Richard heard the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the cobblestone street, the noise of the barking dogs in the park, and the echo of voices carried on the wind. Their carriage stopped, and a moment later, the footman opened the door to help them out. Richard lifted Grace against his chest, and she draped her arms around his neck. As he bent through the opening, the footman reached up to take Grace from him. Once she was situated in her chair, Richard turned to retrieve the picnic basket from the boot of the carriage.

  “Feel free to move the carriage to a quieter spot along the park,” he told the footman. “We will be there for at least an hour, perhaps a little more.”

  “Very good, sir.” The man tipped his hat, and the driver did the same. A moment later, they headed up the street then turned the corner and pulled the carriage to a stop under the shade of a few maple trees.

  The setting was so picturesque.
He could hardly wait to walk with Charlotte along the path and sit with her as they shared lunch. They wouldn’t be alone, but it was close enough for now.

  “Can we go to the bookshop?”

  Richard glanced down to see Grace looking up at him. No, he and Charlotte wouldn’t be alone. Perhaps that was a good thing. With Grace present, there’d be no chance for any other possible proprieties to be trampled.

  “Yes Grace. We’re going.”

  After looking up and down the street, Richard hooked the basket on one handle and maneuvered Grace off the sidewalk and across the bumpy cobblestones. Once they made it to the sidewalk on the other side, Richard immediately looked in the direction of the bookshop.

  There she was.

  Charlotte stood outside, leaning against one of the windows to her shop, her eyes closed and her face upturned. She looked so peaceful. He hadn’t expected to find her here, and all the words he’d rehearsed vanished, leaving him unprepared to greet her. But he had to say something, especially before she opened her eyes and saw them.

  “Good morning, Miss Pringle.” Grace took care of the introduction for him.

  “Oh!” Charlotte straightened and pushed off the wall. Her hand went to her chest. “Grace. You startled me.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Pringle. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She chuckled. “No, no, dear. It’s quite all right.” Charlotte stepped forward and bent to brush a hand across Grace’s cheek. “You didn’t frighten me. Startled means surprised more than scared. . .at least in this instance.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  Richard smiled. Charlotte appeared more relaxed today. It showed in the smooth lines of her cheeks, the absence of strain in her eyes, and the soft way her mouth curved up when she spoke to Grace.

  “You are earlier than I expected.” She directed this statement more at him than Grace. “I thought you wouldn’t be here until Thursday.”

  Richard felt the odd urge to stub his toe against the ground and duck his head. Just like when he’d been caught stuffing firecrackers in the stove at school as a young boy. Instead, he met her questioning gaze and offered an apologetic smile.