The Ladies of Ivy Cottage Read online

  “Why not? I’ve seen the way that young man looks at you,” Mrs. Burlingame said. “He’d do anything you ask, I’d wager.”

  “But I daresay his haughty mamma would not,” Mrs. Klein said. “Won’t hire me to tune that old pianoforte either.”

  Rachel could not disagree. “Even if Mr. Ashford would allow it, it would not be appropriate to take advantage of his generosity.”

  “You could use our library at Ivy Cottage,” Mercy said. “Most of the books we use regularly are kept in the schoolroom. I think we have more ornaments than books on our library shelves. I would have to talk to Aunt Matty first, but we rarely use our formal drawing room and might give over at least part of that as well, if more space were required.”

  “Oh, Mercy, I couldn’t. It’s too much.”

  “Not at all. What a boon it would be to have all those books under our roof. What a benefit to our school. Assuming you would let the girls borrow them.”

  “Of course I would. You may do, as it is. I didn’t realize you would be interested.”

  “Oh, yes. I have long admired—dare I admit, coveted—your father’s library.”

  Rachel raised her hands in agitation. “I don’t even know how a circulating library operates.”

  Mrs. Klein spoke up. “The one in Salisbury charges an annual subscription rate, and then I pay an additional two pence for every volume I borrow.”

  Mercy nodded. “I recall a similar arrangement at the circulating library near my parents’ home in London.”

  “I’ll help you cart the books over,” Mrs. Burlingame offered.

  Jane nodded her approval. “And I could promote the library at The Bell. I’m sure frequent guests would appreciate being able to borrow popular, diverting books to help pass the long hours while traveling.”

  “I don’t know that my father’s books could be called either popular or diverting. Most are academic in nature, I believe. Histories, biographies, works of philosophy . . .”

  “Then perhaps you might accept donations of popular books and novels from others,” Mercy suggested. “We have many.”

  “We have several as well,” Charlotte Cook added.

  Rachel held up her palm. “I don’t want charity.”

  Jane squinted in thought. “Then to those who donate books, you could . . . reduce their subscription fee, or give them a credit toward borrowing other books. Either of those would be a fair exchange.”

  “Though hopefully some will pay for subscriptions outright,” Mrs. Klein said. “She can’t make a living if we all just trade books.”

  Mrs. O’Brien nodded. “I’m sure many will be willing to pay for a subscription. I know I would.”

  Mrs. Barton said, “Me too—if the price isn’t too dear.”

  Rachel shook her head. “Heavens, I’d have no idea what to charge. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You have given me a great deal to think about, and talk over with the Miss Groves. Thank you. Now, I’ve taken enough of your time. What’s next? Mrs. Barton’s cows, was it?”

  “That’s right,” the dairywoman said. “I’ve got too much milk on my hands. My bossies are producing exceedingly well at present. And I’ve already got more cheese than I can sell this month.”

  “I’ve been thinking, Mrs. Barton,” Jane said. “Could you make cheese in the shape of a bell, by any chance? Perhaps I could sell them at the inn?”

  “Like the Stilton cheeses other inns sell?”

  “Exactly.”

  Mrs. Barton considered, lips pursed. “Bell-shaped, hm? Interesting idea.”

  The meeting proceeded, and Rachel was relieved when the focus shifted off of her. She sat quietly, but her mind remained busy dissecting the circulating library idea. Could she make a success of such an enterprise? Or would she end up a mortifying failure? The latter seemed far more likely.

  Chapter

  three

  They convened the library planning meeting the following afternoon. Rachel and Mercy went in early to tidy the Ivy Cottage drawing room. Matilda joined them a few minutes later with a tray of tea things and paper for note taking. Jane would be arriving soon. She had asked if she might bring Mr. Drake, who was currently renovating Fairmont House—Jane’s former childhood home—into a hotel. The man was knowledgeable about business matters and had probably seen many successful circulating libraries in the course of his travels.

  Rachel had agreed but was nervous about a man she barely knew joining them. She had met Mr. Drake at a party held in Jane’s honor recently at The Bell. He had been friendly, but she had found his polished good looks and worldly experience intimidating.

  While they waited for their guests, Rachel asked Mercy, “Would you not need to ask your parents’ permission? Ivy Cottage is still theirs, is it not?”

  Mercy nodded. “Legally, yes. Though when George left and I came of age, they relinquished the house to Aunt Matty and me and moved to London.”

  Matilda explained, “By the time my father wrote his will, it was clear I would remain unmarried, so he put the house in my brother’s name and the furnishings in mine, with the understanding that I would live here, supported by Earnest, for my lifetime.”

  “Will he object to my operating a circulating library here?”

  Matilda replied, “You leave Earnest to me.”

  “And Mrs. Grove?”

  “Oh, she won’t like it.” Matilda made a face. “She wasn’t keen on Mercy keeping a school here either. But since she inherited her family’s house in London, and prefers city living, she isn’t here often enough to complain. Not overly much, at any rate.”

  “Be that as it may,” Rachel said, “that doesn’t mean I ought to take over their drawing room as well as their library.” She gestured through the archway to the adjoining room.

  “The girls receive their visitors here in the drawing room,” Mercy said. “But perhaps we might keep part of this room furnished with comfortable chairs for reading or talking?”

  Matilda added, “Visitors come primarily on Sunday afternoons, so it wouldn’t be much of a conflict. Or perhaps the library might not open on Sundays?”

  “Yes, that would probably be best,” Rachel agreed.

  Jane and Mr. Drake arrived, and their conversation paused as greetings were exchanged. Jane wore her new lavender dress, which brightened her complexion and hazel eyes. Mr. Drake, handsome in gentleman’s attire of claw-hammer tailcoat and trousers, politely greeted the ladies.

  The two newcomers were informed of what had been discussed so far. Then together they all walked through the existing library before returning to the drawing room to reclaim their chairs and teacups.

  Mercy surveyed the drawing room. “To begin with, we’ll need more shelves in this room.”

  Jane followed her gaze. “I agree. Mr. Kingsley might help. He seems a capable builder.”

  Mr. Drake nodded. “The Kingsleys’ work at the Fairmont has been excellent. In fact, Joseph Kingsley is working on a project for me right now.”

  “Then he is probably too busy to build shelves.” Rachel bit her lip, then added sheepishly, “Nor have I much money to pay him.”

  Mr. Drake looked at Jane, his green eyes brightening. “What about using the shelves we removed from the Fairmont library? We stored them in one of the outbuildings. Might they not, with some alteration, suit this room?”

  Jane looked around once more. “I think they might.”

  Rachel’s face heated. “I haven’t the funds to purchase them.”

  He waved away her concern. “You are welcome to them. Not doing anyone any good sitting where they are. Some assembly would be required to reinstall them, but I am sure Mr. Kingsley would be equal to the task. Let me talk to him, see what he thinks.”

  “Very well. Thank you, Mr. Drake.”

  Mr. Drake sipped his tea and relaxed back against the cushions. “This room is most comfortable. I can easily imagine sitting here browsing for hours. Many libraries offer reading rooms, you know, and stock the late
st periodicals for the purpose.”

  “No, I did not know,” Rachel said, beginning to feel overwhelmed again.

  “Remember, I will be happy to promote the library to our guests,” Jane said. “And perhaps we should go to Salisbury and visit the circulating library there. See what else we might need in terms of furnishing and organization.”

  Mr. Drake nodded. “Excellent notion.”

  Rachel pressed her hands to her cheeks. “This is all happening so quickly.”

  Jane turned again to Mr. Drake. “What about a license? Will she need one to start a business here?”

  “I am not sure,” he replied. “But Sir Timothy Brockwell would know.”

  Jane looked at her. “Will you ask him, Rachel, or would you like me to?”

  “I . . . suppose I will do it, since it is to be my library. What strange words to utter! But does it really make sense to open one here?”

  Mr. Drake nodded. “I think your scheme an excellent one, Miss Ashford. Granted, circulating libraries are most popular in spa towns and the coast. But located on the Royal Mail coaching route, as we are, we receive our share of travelers too. And like Mrs. Bell, I too will be happy to recommend a subscription to my regular guests.” He winked at Jane. “When I have any.”

  “Thank you. Again, thank you all.” Rachel managed a smile, though inwardly she quailed.

  Good heavens. What have I got myself into!

  After the meeting, Jane walked with Mr. Drake back to The Bell, where he had left his horse.

  “Thank you for coming today.”

  “My pleasure, Jane. You know I am always happy to help. And I like your friends—intelligent, well-spoken, resourceful . . .”

  “I agree.”

  “And pretty, which a woman should be, if at all possible.” He gave her a roguish grin. “Though no one holds a candle to you, of course.”

  “Now, that’s going it a bit brown.”

  “Not in my view. At all events, I was impressed with your ideas today. You do remember what I said at your license hearing? That I consider you one of the keenest women of my acquaintance?”

  “I remember.”

  His eyes glimmered. “I also said I looked forward to a long relationship with you.” He took her arm and laced it through his as they walked.

  She sent him a sidelong glance. “What you said was a ‘mutually profitable’ relationship. Not exactly romantic.”

  “We were in front of the magistrates, after all. But we are not now.” He drew her closer to his side.

  She tried to tug her hand free, but he held fast, stopping to face her.

  “Jane . . .”

  “Yes, James?”

  “Have dinner with me tonight at the Fairmont.”

  She hesitated, recalling his veiled offer when she’d toured Fairmont House. She had doubted his sincerity, but either way, she had not been ready to consider it. Jane shook her head. “I will be gone to Salisbury the better part of tomorrow, so I had better not be absent tonight as well.”

  Disappointment shone on his handsome face.

  She added, “But you are welcome to join me in The Bell coffee room.”

  “And eat Mrs. Rooke’s cooking instead of my chef’s?” He exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “A sacrifice I’d make only for you, Jane Bell.”

  She dug a playful shoulder into his, and he escorted her the rest of the way home.

  A short while later, Jane and James sat together at her favorite table—two high-backed benches near the front windows, where she or Patrick could see the street and any coaches coming up the hill. The cheerful coffee room was where the staff, coachmen, and locals generally ate, while most passengers preferred the formal dining parlour.

  Seeing Jane alone with Mr. Drake, a few of The Bell regulars sent them interested glances, and Patrick came over to greet them.

  “Evening, Jane. Mr. Drake.”

  “Mr. Bell, how are things here?”

  “Busy. More traffic lately, thankfully.”

  James nodded. “Probably due to hunting season and the harvest.”

  “Ah. I wager you’re right. Well, whatever brings business to little Ivy Hill, we’ll take it. Right, Jane?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Now I’ll leave you two to enjoy your dinner.”

  Patrick walked away as Alwena brought them the evening’s special of roast beef and potatoes.

  Jane picked up her knife and fork. “Do you know, you never fully explained why you came here to ‘little Ivy Hill’ in the first place.”

  “Besides to tease you, do you mean?” Appealing grooves dimpled his cheeks. “Actually, I thought I had explained. When I saw plans for the turnpike, I sensed an opportunity and came looking.”

  “And I sense there was more to it than that.”

  “Clever girl.” He cut a piece of meat.

  Jane ate a bite of roast and was quiet as she chewed, and chewed, and finally swallowed. “Have you found everything you hoped for here?”

  “Not yet. But what I have found has captured my interest.”

  She raised a skeptical brow. “At least for now, do you mean? I cannot imagine Ivy Hill holding your attention for long.”

  He nodded. “For now.”

  She shook her head. “You are a mystery, James Drake. Can nothing be plain and straightforward with you?”

  He lifted a forkful of stringy meat. “Like dry roast and plain potatoes, do you mean? Personally, I prefer a bit of complexity to savor.”

  “You certainly know how to dish it out.”

  “I hope that means you find my company interesting, Jane. For I enjoy yours a great deal. In fact, there is almost no one I would rather see across the table from me.”

  “Almost no one? At least you are tempering your flattery now. I might almost believe you.”

  A slow smile tilted his mouth, but it did not quite reach his eyes.

  The next morning, Jane rose a little earlier than usual to dress and prepare for their trip into Salisbury. Mercy wanted to join them, but Lord Winspear had finally agreed to a meeting to hear her case for the charity school. She needed his support, so Jane and Rachel would go alone.

  Jane selected an old but becoming carriage dress of russet red for the trip, and a hat with a matching ribbon.

  “It is such a pleasure to help you dress now that you are out of mourning, Mrs. Bell,” Cadi said as she curled Jane’s brown hair. “I hope that isn’t impertinent to say.”

  “When has that ever stopped you?” Jane teased the girl, who was friend as well as maid.

  Entering the inn a short while later, Jane spoke briefly with Colin, Alwena, and Mrs. Rooke. She found herself missing Thora. She and Talbot were still away on their wedding trip. But hopefully all would continue to go well during her absence. Then Jane stopped at the desk to remind Patrick of her plans for the day.

  Patrick leaned back in his chair. “No problem, Jane. You go and enjoy yourself. You have been working hard for weeks. I’ll take care of things here.”

  “Thank you.” Jane realized she believed him. She’d become increasingly comfortable leaving the inn in Patrick’s hands. He still liked to spend too much time in the taproom, hobnobbing with guests, but overall he was proving himself a capable manager.

  “Can I bring you back anything?” Jane asked.

  He looked around. “A new registry if you happen to pass the stationers. With the increase in traffic lately, this one’s nearly full. An excellent problem to have.”

  Rachel stepped through the front door wearing a long mauve redingote trimmed in black, her blond hair crowned by a matching bonnet.

  Seeing her, Patrick let out a low whistle. “Or I could go to Salisbury with Miss Ashford, and you could stay here.” He gave Jane an impish grin.

  Jane rolled her eyes. “You would find her immune to your charms, Patrick, as she has a promising new suitor.”

  “The young man who inherited Thornvale, while I own nothing? Don’t remind me.” Petulance flashed across h
is face, then disappeared. He stepped to the side door, opening it with gallant address. “Miss Ashford. Jane. Right this way. Your carriage arrives in two minutes. Safe journey, ladies. I shall be here, ever vigilant, when you return.”

  Jane shook her head in tolerant amusement and followed Rachel out into the courtyard to await the mail coach. Two minutes later, the Quicksilver arrived right on schedule.

  Seeing Jane, the Royal Mail guard waved. As the coach slowed, he hopped down. Approaching the ladies, he bowed smartly, and Jane introduced her friend.

  Rachel blushed, whether disconcerted to have a guard formally introduced to her, or to have a dashing man smile at her so warmly, Jane could not be sure. Jack Gander did cut a fine figure in his red coat, his dark hair and eyes in striking contrast to his fair skin.

  He shifted his smile to Jane. “How are you, Mrs. Bell? Everything shipshape here at my favorite coaching inn?”

  “I am well, Jack. And so is The Bell, thankfully. And you? How is the new coachman getting on?”

  “Oh, he is all right. He’s no Charlie Frazer, but who is?”

  They referred to his former partner—the coachman who had recently vied with Walter Talbot for Thora’s affections. He had taken a new post far from Ivy Hill.

  “He is quite a character—that is for certain,” Jane agreed. “We miss him.”

  “As do I. But the new man is a decent fellow. So, where are you ladies bound for today?”

  “Only to Salisbury.”

  “Off for a bit of shopping? A fine day for it. Allow me.” He opened the door and handed in Rachel, then Jane, before returning to his duties.

  “Goodness, he is handsome,” Rachel breathed.

  Jane blinked innocently. “Is he?”

  “Almost as handsome as your husband was.”

  Jane looked at her in surprise. “Did you think John handsome?”

  “Of course. Don’t you remember when we first met him in Bath? Come to think of it, didn’t we meet him at the circulating library in Milsom Street?”

  “It was a bookshop, but no matter.”