Page 11 of Estelle’s Ardent Admirer (The Bookshop Belles #1)

CHAPTER 11

A Bubble of Happiness

A s she had predicted, Estelle slept poorly. Her thoughts were filled with a blue eyed man with golden curls, his lips on hers. She rose from her bed gritty-eyed in the early hours of the morning and made her way downstairs. She had to finish the job from last night and make sure those bed bugs were destroyed. To her grim satisfaction, there were visible small insects floating on the top of the water. Pulling out Felix’s clothes, she snapped them in the air to flick any remaining insects away. Then she wrung them out as best she could and hung them on the wall hooks near the lavender bushes to dry in the sun. Marie came out to help when she was halfway through the job. Together they tipped over the barrel, rinsed it with a fresh bucket of water from the pump, and left it to drain and dry.

“Phew.” Estelle wiped perspiration from her brow. It was already a warm morning, perfect for drying clothes. “Thank you for that.”

Marie nodded in acknowledgement, then hesitated before slowly drawing something out of her pocket. “This came yesterday. I didn’t want to upset you before the assembly.”

“Oh.” Estelle looked at the folded paper her sister held out rather as though she might look at a venomous snake. Eventually, she removed her apron, drying her hands on it before taking the paper from Marie. “Thank you,” she murmured, and Marie nodded before turning silently away.

It’s bad, then.

With a sigh, Estelle took herself into the bookshop and sat down on the stool behind the counter, grateful at least that it was Saturday and she didn’t have to open the shop.

Unfolding the paper, she sat staring at it for a few moments.

An extraordinary sum stared back at her on the paper.

“Eighty pounds,” she murmured, before putting her head in her hands, her elbows on the counter on either side of the paper. “ Eighty pounds . Dear God.”

It was a letter from the bank where their father had taken out his loan before leaving for France, stating bluntly that reports had reached them that Matthew Baxter had passed away and they were therefore requesting earlier and larger repayments be made on the loan.

Cousin Joshua, Estelle thought bleakly. Her heart began pounding in her chest with unexpressed anger. This had Joshua’s hallmark of nastiness all over it.

She thought they’d seen him off, but he was already a step ahead. While the sisters had been able to refute Cousin Joshua’s lie with the fact of Matthew’s letter, all it would have taken was a note to the bank about the possibility of his never returning and the conservative money men would have panicked.

Cousin Joshua probably notified the bank first, before he’d paid them a visit that day as he so casually measured the windows for drapes.

And now, Estelle somehow had to find a payment four times larger than she had expected. Even Felix’s huge purchase the day before wouldn’t cover it, not to mention the other debts she had already mentally earmarked that money for.

A floorboard squeaking made her look up. There was Felix coming from the stairs through the bookshop towards her. In the shop’s dim light, she could not see the gleam in his eyes, but her memories fixed them in place anyway. He wore her father’s clothes, the shirt too baggy but the sleeves too short. His stockinged feet were quiet, but the age of the building meant the bookshop’s wooden floors did bend in a few places.

Felix stopped in his tracks on seeing her, and Estelle realised her panic and devastation from the bank’s letter must be showing on her face. Her cheeks were wet, and she swiped hastily at the tears, trying to compose herself.

“I am glad we aren’t open today,” she said, trying to sound light-hearted, “because anyone coming into the bookshop at this moment would realise you had spent the night here. That would be quite the scandal.”

“Estelle,” he said quietly, eschewing the opportunity she had offered to jest with her. “Whatever is the matter? What has happened?”

She hesitated, looking at his handsome face, the concern written all over it. He’s a good man. Maybe I should just… marry him. To save the bookshop, save my sisters. The solution is right here in front of me, offered up on a plate.

“Please let me help.” He reached across the counter, placed a hand atop hers. “Whatever it is. Let me help.”

She was so very close to giving in. Now she warred with herself and wondered why she was fighting it so much. What was she so afraid of giving in to? A life of leisure, a handsome husband and no debts for her sisters? She should grab at that with both hands. “Did you really mean it?” she asked. “About wanting to marry me?”

Felix didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I meant it. I still mean it.”

She was the one who hesitated, and he looked closely at her before taking his hand off hers. She felt the absence of his touch and wondered if he was pulling away. No, he was getting closer, making his way around the counter to stand beside her.

“I want to marry you, Estelle,” he said quietly when she looked up at him. “But I want you to say yes because you want to marry me , not because I can solve a problem for you. I’ll help you even if you don’t want to marry me, because I admire you greatly and my grandfather and great-aunt are extremely fond of you and your sisters. You don’t have to marry me in order to get my help.”

Tears started running down her cheeks in earnest then, and Felix groaned as though in pain.

“Estelle, dearest, please don’t cry! I can bear anything but that.” He leaned forward, as though to kiss her, took another step in order to get close enough… Estelle closed her eyes, waiting for that delicious sensation of his warm lips on hers again.

There was a peculiar, squishy sort of crunching sound and Felix’s lips did not make the distance to land on hers.

“Ugh,” he said instead.

Estelle’s eyes sprang open.

Felix was looking down at his feet, a strange queasy sort of expression on his face.

Estelle looked down too.

“Oh no. Crafty!”

“What is that?” Felix very gingerly backed away, looking with horror at the mess on his stockinged foot.

Estelle didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the mess. “I’m afraid it appears to be a disembowelled mouse. Please tell me you have a strong stomach?”

“Reasonably.” He still looked a little queasy, though, for which Estelle could hardly blame him.

“Don't move,” she cautioned, hoping to avoid the mess being spread over the floor. “I'll run upstairs and get some clean stockings.”

“Thank you,” Felix agreed, gingerly sitting down on the stool once she vacated it, and Estelle hurried for the stairs, mentally condemning Crafty to the fires of Hell for the untimely interruption. “You'd probably be quite happy there. Have Lucifer's minions at your beck and call,” she muttered as she passed Crafty atop one of the bookcases, meticulously cleaning her paws.

Crafty did not deign even to notice her, and Estelle sighed. “I suppose it's for the best. I need a clear head to think, and his kisses are very confusing!”

Alone for a moment, she thought back to the bank’s letter of demand. Perhaps they might agree to go back to the original payment schedule, if she showed them her father’s letter that arrived with the last crate of books? That would at least calm their fears that he would be unable to repay the loan. But of course, they might not even entertain taking an interview with a woman unless she had a … oh dear, unless she had a husband with her to speak business.

The only way out of this mess was the path that led to marrying Felix Yates. Not an entirely terrible proposition, but she still couldn’t quite make it all make sense yet. It didn’t sit right with Estelle to marry for convenience. He was indeed a lovely man, but how well were they really suited to each other?

When she made her way back downstairs with a pair of clean stockings in hand, Bernadette had made it downstairs to the bookshop with Felix, and was using a rag to dispose of the remainder of Crafty’s offering. Bernadette was obviously trying quite hard not to laugh at Felix’s predicament, and Estelle gave her a stern glare. Poor Mr Yates did not need them laughing at him, on top of everything else! He’d been surprisingly helpful, even if he did seem to make something of a mess of things at first.

The best way to remove the mirth from Bernadette’s face was to show her the demand letter from the bank. It had certainly swept away her own good mood in quick time.

“Oh dear,” Bernadette said. “That makes me queasier than cleaning up mouse entrails.”

Estelle handed over the stockings to Felix and he stepped away to dress his feet.

Turning to her youngest sister, Estelle said, “I was wondering if we should send them father’s letter? To prove he’s still with us?”

Bernadette shook her head and said, “I would keep that letter close. Do you think this is Cousin Joshua’s doing?”

“The timing is far too suspicious to be coincidental,” Estelle confirmed. “This disaster has our cousin’s manipulative fingerprints all over it.”

There was no other reason the bank would suddenly demand repayment at this point. Unless something had happened in France that had reached the bank’s ears but not theirs, which was also a horrifying thought.

Bernadette worried at her bottom lip in thought. “As long as the crates and Father’s letters keep coming, we know he’s still alive. Marie’s good with letters, she’ll know the right things to say to the bank.”

Felix said, “These are most comfortable. I thank you. I am sorry to listen to your private conversation, but might a letter from myself to the bank be of assistance in some way? Having a grandfather who’s a baron does sometimes smooth things over.”

Estelle’s whole body felt on edge, as perhaps if Felix did have the solution to their problems after all, without marriage.

Bernadette nudged Estelle and said, “See, accepting someone’s help isn’t the end of the world after all.”

The words, “you’ll keep” were on the tip of her tongue when Mrs Poole called down the stairs that breakfast was ready.

Felix’s stomach gurgled audibly, which made all three of them giggle, despite their worries.

They made their way to the kitchen for breakfast. Mrs Poole had added another chair to the table and they were sat a little closer to each other than usual. Mrs Poole indicated the chair next to Estelle for Felix. He pulled out Estelle’s chair for her and she accepted the assistance.

“I need to thank you, Miss Bernadette,” Felix said. “You show a remarkable talent with herbs. Thanks to your balm, the scratch Crafty gave me has almost entirely healed already.” He held up his hand and showed how small and thin the cut looked. It had healed over and wasn’t at all red, much to Estelle’s relief. If it had turned red and hot, it could become infected.

“Thank you, Mr. Yates. I learned all about herbs at my mother’s knee,” Bernadette said.

“What sort of ailments do you treat?” Felix asked.

Louise darted her eyes toward Estelle as if this could be some kind of a trap. Estelle looked at Bernadette and shook her head slightly. Her youngest sister rolled her eyes.

Of course she’s not going to tell a man - almost a complete stranger - what she really does! Estelle offered a small smile of apology for doubting Bernadette’s good sense.

“Lots of small things,” Bernadette said. “Nothing to put the town doctor out of a position, of course. I find talking with people for a while puts them at ease. The herbs smell delicious and make people feel better when they add them to tea. Ginger, when I can get it, is very good for anyone with a sickly stomach. I would dearly love to grow it, but the plant itself is hard to find.”

“Is that a suitable topic for the table?” Marie asked. “I’m trying to enjoy my breakfast, not hear about people’s sickly stomachs.”

That remark shut things down for a moment, until Felix said, “This bacon is delicious, Mrs Poole, thank you.” Then he turned back to Bernadette and asked, “Lord Ferndale has a cough that comes on at night. It concerns me a little. Would you have anything to recommend?”

“Oh yes. A cough at night is common, as the sun goes down and the night air cools. I have a cucumber and mint tonic that can help.”

“Thank you, and I’m sure Lord Ferndale will be most appreciative.”

Louise piped up, “I’m nearly done with the rest of his book bindings. The glue should be dry on the last one by midday.”

Felix delivered her a beautiful smile, and Estelle couldn’t help but feel warmed by association. Last night, he’d smiled at another woman and jealousy had spiked inside her. But now he was smiling at her sister and it felt so natural, as if he were already a member of the family.

“Tell me, Miss Louise, how are you so proficient at book binding and repairs?” he asked, showing every appearance of genuine interest.

Louise attempted to brush his compliment away. “I suppose I’ve been doing it so long it’s easy for me now.”

“I’ve seen what you’ve already done for Lord Ferndale’s favourite titles. I had some books repaired in London many years ago, and the quality was nowhere near as good.”

Louise blushed and shrugged a little. “Thank you,” she said, spreading some jam on her toast. “It’s important to shave the edges of the leather at the correct angle, otherwise it gets too bulky when you fold it over.”

“How clever,” Felix encouraged. “I promise not to divulge your trade secrets.”

“Well, my father showed me how, and I thought about some better ways, so I tried them, and they worked. The secret is in the stinky glue, which everyone hates. I’m not overly fond of it either, mind, but it works very well. It does take slightly longer to dry but it’s worth it for the life of the book.”

“I thank you for your diligence,” Felix said. “Have you thought about promoting your services to readers in London? I’m sure you could charge London customers more.”

Marie chimed in, “That’s a good idea. Shall I add that to our next advertisement in The Times?”

Felix added, “As long as you’re not suddenly overwhelmed.”

Louise nodded. “I have two book vices to hold the books in position while the glue sets. That puts a limit on the number of books I can repair at any time.”

Felix asked, “Is there room in your workshop for another vice or two?”

Louise stammered, “Er, well, there is room.”

Estelle heard the unsaid part - there is room, but there’s no money to buy extra vices and clamps .

Felix had brought up an excellent point. Louise was incredibly skilled at what she did, even with the hideous smell that came with glue-pot days. If they could expand, they might even take in an apprentice.

The chatter at the table between Felix and her sisters calmed Estelle. His questions proved he had been paying attention to their lives and their skills, and displayed genuine interest in their endeavours. She nibbled on her toast and watched him turn his attention to Marie, asking about her interests and hobbies, and listening as Marie shyly said that she liked to play the pianoforte, when she had time.

I thought him selfish and spoiled, interested in nothing but his own amusements, when first we met, but I was quite wrong. He’s not just trying to impress me, either. He genuinely cares.

Everything Estelle learned about Felix Yates seemed to be another point in favour of her accepting his marriage proposal.

“Now.” Felix clapped his hands together and looked around the table. “Since it seems I shall have to wait for my clothes and boots to dry, how can I make myself useful to you here today?” He smirked a little. “Since I have something of a height advantage over even Miss Louise, perhaps you might put me to work dusting the tops of the furniture and door frames?”

“Oh, no, sir, we couldn’t possibly expect you to work,” Mrs Poole said immediately, just as Estelle said; “That is a capital suggestion, Mr Yates.”

“Estelle!” Mrs Poole gave her a warning look.

“What? He wants to help, and Saturday is our cleaning day!”

“He is a guest!” Mrs Poole shook her head reprovingly.

“Perhaps you would like to spend the day reading, Mr Yates?” Bernadette suggested diplomatically. “After all, if there is one thing we are not short of, it is reading material, and there is a very comfortable reading chair in Father’s room…”

“Certainly not.” He rose from the table and carried his plate over to the wash basin. “No gentleman would sit at his leisure and allow the ladies about him to do all the work. I shall begin by washing these plates, and then perhaps carry some more water up for you?”

Carrying heavy buckets of water up the narrow stairwell was a chore all of them hated, and even Mrs Poole could not find it in herself to decline such a generous offer. Indeed, Estelle was quite amused half an hour later, to discover that she was not the only one watching with appreciation as Felix made light work of hefting some heavy buckets of water up onto the kitchen table before pouring them into separate jugs to take to the bedrooms. Mrs Poole, busy kneading dough, had her eyes more on Mr Yates’ broad shoulders moving under his thin linen shirt than on her bread mix.

Estelle herself gave up any pretence of dusting the herb-dresser and just stared.

He was, after all, rather worth staring at. Especially last night, as the water dripped off his torso in the lamp light. Though she should definitely not be thinking about that!

Mrs Poole fanned herself a little as Felix took the empty buckets and headed off down the stairs again. Catching Estelle’s eyes on her, the older woman let out a rather self-conscious little laugh.

“Fine figure of a man, Mr Yates,” Mrs Poole observed, her cheeks pink.

“He really is,” Estelle agreed shamelessly. Whatever she might find objectionable about Mr Yates - and she was finding less and less to object to as she came to know him better - his looks had certainly never fallen into that category.

Although her distraction because of them was certainly a concern, as she paused to watch him carry in more water and accidentally knocked a large ceramic pot of lavender off the dresser, which promptly broke and scattered all over the floor.

“We’re supposed to be cleaning up, not making more mess!” Bernadette chided as she came over to help Estelle clean up.

“Well, at least the house will smell nice,” Estelle joked, tearing her gaze away from Felix with an effort.

Usually the time dragged on Clean-Up-Saturdays, but with Felix’s able assistance, the time moved so much faster than usual.

The whole time they worked, Felix didn’t once press Estelle about his suit, or about helping with the loan. Instead, he continued to engage her sisters in conversations that catered to their interests, and even coaxed an enthusiastic conversation with Mrs Poole about her cooking prowess.

True to his word, Felix used his height to reach the top of the bookshelves. Crafty tried to catch the ends of the feather duster as he swept it along the timber. Felix made a game of it, which lasted a solid fifteen minutes.

Understanding dawned on Estelle. She owed this decent man an apology. He wasn’t as frivolous and wool-headed as she’d first thought. He was a realistic person who managed to find joy in daily life. He was the grandson of a baron, heir to a considerable fortune, but here he was performing manual labour. He’d offered to help and had followed through. But in helping, he’d also seized a moment to appreciate a little harmless fun when the opportunity arose. Watching Felix play with Crafty until the cat was nearly exhausted added another realisation. Somewhere along the line, Estelle had lost that ability to appreciate the happy moments that came along in life. Considering the last few years, that was hardly surprising. Their mother had died only a few years ago. Grief and sorrow had followed. Then their father had left them to manage the business while he was travelling in France, taking out an enormous loan that the bank now wanted repaying in much larger deposits. Add to that Cousin Joshua’s attempts to see them out on the street, and it was hardly surprising she didn’t have much joy in her life.

Marrying Mr Yates would lift an exceedingly large portion of their burden, and being around him would surely help her find more joy in the everyday?

With an extra pair of hands assisting them so ably, they finished the clean up earlier than usual. The warm southerly winds had dried Mr Yates’ clothes and he was soon back to his regular elegant appearance.

Crafty had not merely fallen asleep after playing with Mr Yates, she’d plummeted. She was stretched out on the windowsill, legs in all directions like a furry black starfish, making snuffly noises.

Felix smiled at the cat and turned to face the sisters, all seated at the kitchen table enjoying a well-earned cup of tea. “Ladies, I thank you most humbly for taking such great care of me, and sparing the Red Lion from an infestation of bed bugs. Please allow me to take you all to dinner there tonight, as a small token of appreciation.”

“Yes please,” Bernadette said immediately.

Louise gave a broad smile as she prodded Marie, as if the two shared an unspoken understanding. Had they made some sort of wager?

Estelle said, “It is we who should be thanking you, Mr Yates, for all you’ve assisted us with today.”

Mrs Poole wiped her hands on her apron and said, “We can discuss who needs to thank whom over dinner. I for one would appreciate a fine meal that I don’t have to cook.”

“Excellently put, Mrs Poole,” Felix said.

Estelle knew when she was outnumbered. But she also thought she should be on the lookout and appreciate good things when they presented themselves. Starting now. “Thank you, Mr Yates, that would be most generous of you.”

The Red Lion was full of warmth and cheer. Travellers leaving and returning to London, several friends from Hatfield at other tables, and the aromas of fine cooking. There was a fire in the hearth, but at this time of year it was more for ambience than necessity.

Their table of six dined on the finest roasted vegetables crisped to perfection in tallow. Felix ordered so much roast beef, there was enough for two slices each. He drank small beer while they had ratafia. Estelle watched in appreciation as Felix held court, holding conversations with her sisters about their various projects. He animatedly joined in sharing their interests. There was laughter and lightness, and full bellies. The crease between Mrs Poole’s brows softened as the pressures of the past few months faded away.

Estelle committed the evening to memory as she became even more determined to enjoy herself when such moments presented themselves. Accounts and bank loans and even thoughts of Cousin Joshua could not penetrate her happiness at this moment.

It was as if a magical bubble of light enveloped their table, and the person responsible for that bubble was sitting beside her, bringing all of them some much-needed cheer.

By the end of the evening, her face hurt from smiling so much, and she thought that she truly couldn’t recall the last time she had felt so happy and content.

Felix remained at the Red Lion, taking up the room he had paid for but not yet used, and the Baxters and Mrs Poole returned home. Estelle flopped onto her bed and fell asleep with a smile on her face.