Olivia chuckled. “I wish you would come to visit me as a ghostly specter. Perhaps you could help me decide what to do next,” she murmured. Then she continued to read.
I want to express how much I love you. You have been the best of friends. The kind of friend who laughed at all my stories, who kept my secrets, who always challenged me to know my value was not in how society viewed me but in who I was on the inside. You accepted the real me. I will forever be grateful.
Olivia ran a fingertip across the words. They had supported each other. His friendship had buoyed her through her mother’s death and had saved her from a dismal future. When her father would have forced her to marry a man three times her age, a man who had been married as many times, Henry had swooped in and offered her an escape. Marry him, become his countess, protect his reputation, and in return, he would always keep her safe and cared for.
Henry had confessed to her that he had fallen in love with a brilliant young man named Julien. That they were careful to keep up the façade that they were just good friends. After all, Henry had had many friends. But since the death of his father, he had been under increasing pressure to marry. If Olivia consented to the marriage, it would help to protect his reputation and his secret relationship with Julien.
She and Henry never consummated their marriage but instead lived as happy companions. Henry spent most of his time in London, and that had suited them both. He always came to Marbury when she needed him for social events, and he had always come home for holidays.
Olivia sucked in a shaky breath. Henry had loved Christmastime. He would order the house decorated with greenery and bright red ribbon garlands. They entertained local friends at a huge Twelfth Night party. Henry had loved to give extravagant Christmas gifts. One year he’d given her five gold rings, mimicking the line from his favorite Christmas carol. Last year, after Henry’s accident, no one had expected her to celebrate the holiday, and honestly, she didn’t know if she cared to do anything this year either. Christmas frivolity had been Henry’s strong suit. The holiday would never be the same without him.
I have always felt that because of our unusual marriage, you missed out on your opportunity to find true love. So, Livvy, my cautious English rose; this is my challenge to you. Do not waste away in widow’s weeds mourning for me. I want you to travel, to take chances, and to fall in love. My relationship with Julien has made me indescribably happy, and you also deserve to find love, to find grand passion. But most of all, I wish for you to reach for whatever makes you happy.
Yours forever, Henry
Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes and rolled unheeded down her cheeks. Olivia wiped at them with the back of her hand. She had cried so many times over the loss of her friend. Henry had been her rock of safety in an uncertain world. He had given her a way to stay in the only home she had ever known. Their marriage had lifted her from a simple miss to the Countess of Rivenhall. But his words of encouragement hit home. Without Henry to hold her hand, could she take chances and explore the world outside of Belhaven and her beloved Marbury?
Love coupled with grand passion? She wasn’t sure these things existed. Her thoughts swung to Max. Once upon a time, his kisses had inflamed her, and her adolescent heart had tumbled into his hands. But perhaps passion was transitory because when Max’s father had called him to Paris for a job arranged with the Musée de Louvre, Max’s letters, so regular at first, had just stopped arriving. The hurt and desperation she’d felt still stung even after all these years.
Pulling her thoughts back to the present, Olivia took in a deep calming breath. Henry’s wish from the beyond was that she not waste her life in mourning. That she find grand passion. Now that she was a widow, dare she consider finding herself a lover? She no longer had anyone to tell her what to do, how to live. She was in control of her next move.
Olivia rose and crossed to pull the bell for her maid. The first step was to stop living in limbo. Ten minutes later, Franny poked her head through the door. “You rang, my lady?”
“Yes, Franny, I’d like you to get my trunks from storage. Tomorrow I would like to wear something other than black. It’s time.”
Franny’s head bobbed up and down enthusiastically. “Yes, ma’am. I will tell Mrs. Peabody straight away.”
Olivia walked over to the looking glass. “All right, Henry, here is the first step. Widow’s weeds will be put away.” She frowned at the woman with the pale face and the red-rimmed eyes in the mirror. “What’s next? If you are haunting the Hall, please send me a sign.”
Chapter Eight
“Thank you formeeting with me, Mr. Buxley.”
“Thank you, Lady Rivenhall, for offering to take care of the shop. I just don’t want to have to close the place up.” He banged a fist against his chest. “This old heart of mine is not complying with my wishes, though.”
Olivia passed the older man a cup of tea. He looked smaller somehow, wrapped in blankets as he sat in a worn wingback chair by the fire. His hair stuck out in tufts of white along the edges of his balding crown. She picked up her own tea and leaned back in her chair opposite him. “The bookshop is my very favorite place in Marbury. I know my friends would agree. I am happy to help keep it open.”
“Ach, you and your friends are good girls. You always were my best customers.” He gave her a watery smile. “My wife wishes for me to close it up. She says that I should spend my time more leisurely in my old age.” He sighed. “Mayhap, I will think about it. Business has been dismal, and I don’t think I can keep the place afloat anymore. My wife works hard at the tea shop, and it’s enough, along with my pension, for us to live.”
“Mr. Buxley, I know I can help bring the business around. I may be a woman, but I have been running Belhaven for years and have made many changes that have produced new revenue. The bookshop is important. We need to have a place for books in the community.”
Mr. Buxley huffed. “I have no doubt you could. Remember, I’m married to a woman who runs a successful business. I gifted her that building as a wedding gift. She created the tea shop from the ground up. You should have seen her back then, so much enthusiasm for her dream, for life. I never knew what she saw in an old goat like me, but I’m eternally grateful she married me, which is why I am seriously considering her advice to take it easy. But I’m not opposed to you comin’ up with some ideas for the bookshop.”
Olivia was taken aback by the sweet devotion the grouchy bookshop owner showed for his wife. She always thought that Mr. Buxley didn’t like anyone. Olivia nodded briskly and blinked away tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She hadn’t lied about the importance of the bookshop to her or to Marbury. She would turn things around. And if Mr. Buxley decided to sell it, she would make an offer to buy it.
This kernel of an idea had been growing since she read Henry’s letter. Take risks, go after what you want. Of course, the advice was easier said than done. Her mother always told her to make sure to take care of others’ needs, always taught her to swallow her own desires, to not ask for too much, to face life’s disappointments with grace. But the bookshop would be purely for her own pleasure, a challenge to keep her moving forward now that she would have to leave the care of Belhaven to someone new.
She sent Mr. Buxley a smile. “Tell me, what orders are you expecting? Where do you keep your revenue books? Is there anything I need to know before I go to open the shop?”
“Well, the lock on the front door is a tad tricky. If you jiggle the key, it’ll turn for you.” Mr. Buxley began to explain the quirks of his place.
Olivia listened attentively. A ball of excitement formed in her belly. She was going to run a bookshop! She couldn’t wait to spend her days organizing and planning and maybe even have time for some reading. This was going to be fun.
Chapter Nine
Max blew outa long white stream into the cold air as he walked across the lawns at the back of the house. He headed through the orchard, walking underneath the bare branches that, in summer, would create shady paths and perfect spots to read a book. He and Henry would often come upon Olivia sitting on a low branch, her back against the trunk reading one of the many books she had pilfered from Belhaven’s library.
He had loved to tease her about becoming a bluestocking and she would throw apples at his head. The truth was he and Henry were always jockeying to impress her. They would show off whoever had caught the biggest trout or climb into the high branches to pluck the ripest apples to give to her.