Beth was making the bed when Eliza entered the bedroom. She asked, surprised, “You’re alone?”
“Miss Margaret is collecting the newspapers.”
Eliza nodded, mentally throwing up a fist-pump. She finally knew the other maid’s name! Another thought struck her.
“When are we leaving?”
The maid’s hands stilled, and she turned big eyes towards Eliza. There was a strange look in them that made her feel uneasy. “The day after tomorrow, Your Grace.”
She had less than three days to get her story straight? She was wasting time here! “I was asking for the time, Beth.”
“Oh,” the maid gave her a sheepish smile. “After breakfast, Your Grace.” She hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Are… Are you… upset about that?”
Eliza tilted her head in askance. Upset? “Why would I be?”
Beth’s eyes shifted away. “I—I heard that it was common practice to leave for the honeymoon the day after the wedding, but…”
Ah. If there was any doubt in her mind about the type of relationship Artizia had with the Duke, it was now gone. She gave the nervous maid a gentle smile. “I don’t mind it. It will give me a chance to recover.”
“I see.” The maid looked relieved, but she still refused to meet Eliza’s eyes. Her face was flushed. Eliza had an inkling about what was causing such a reaction. When she had glimpsed herself in the mirror, she’d felt a blush creep up her face too.
She had half-turned away, not wanting to torment the young maid much further, but stopped suddenly. “Do you know where the library is?”
“The library? Ah, no. But I can get someone to take you there.”
Eliza nodded. “When Margaret gets back, tell her to leave the newspapers here.”
“Certainly, Your Grace.”
Eliza nearly shed tears of joy when she walked into the library. It was right out of a bibliophile’s grandest dreams. She was so choked up with emotion that all she managed was a short nod to thank the servant who had shown her the way. She added a bright smile on top of that just so he didn’t have any hard feelings and was pleased to catch him leave looking flustered.
A beautiful face truly was a dangerous thing. She wondered in idle amusement if Artizia’s appearance could start a war. It didn’t seem unlikely. But then, Eliza didn’t know what Artizia’s contemporaries looked like. Even her new husband was ludicrously attractive. Perhaps they had been blessed with good genes, or maybe to be so beautiful was not uncommon.
She soon shrugged the thought away. There were more pressing matters to attend to.
The library was massive, but she quickly found someone who pointed her in the right direction. Three days was barely any time to learn to become a new person. During the conversation with the librarian, she had found to her dismay that the internet didn’t exist. Nor were there things like smartphones or similar gadgets of the 21st century.
Heartbroken, she resigned herself to having to do things the old-fashioned way. She had gotten her hopes up after seeing everything else look so familiar.
A couple hours later, she returned to her room, a small stack of books in hand. Eliza had only skimmed them to find if they might be useful. She prayed fervently that they had what she needed to know.
The night was quiet, without even the whisper of wind. The man who had just stepped outside grimaced slightly. It had been an unusually hot day, and the night was barely any cooler. The air was heavy – all signs pointed to a thunderstorm in the coming days.
Going about the motions of closing his shop as his mind drifted along this train of thought, he nearly let out a screech at the sound of a heavy footfall behind him. Spinning around, his heart leapt into his throat at the sight of the black-clad figure. A flash of relief that it wasn’t a ghost passed through his mind, but the stranger’s half-concealed face immediately dispelled it.
“W-We don’t keep cash on the premises.” He said as he stepped back quickly. Though his hands shook, he remembered to hold the ring of keys in his hand defensively, slipping them between his fingers. Dark eyes flickered to his fistful of metal and crinkled slightly, as though they were amused.
“Don’t worry, I don’t mean any harm,” it was muffled, but definitely a man’s voice. He held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. “I just want to talk.”
The shopkeeper’s grip tightened, pushing some of the sharp edges of the keys into his hand. “What about?”
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