A few days after Lady Thorne bought the book
The afternoon sun streamed through the lace curtains of Lady Thorne's drawing room, casting delicate patterns across the gathered nobility. Ten of Alcasa's most influential noblewomen perched on gilded chairs, their silk gowns rustling softly as they adjusted their positions. The air hummed with barely concealed anticipation - these women hadn't come merely for tea, but for answers. Rumors had spread like wildfire through the capital's elite circles: whispers that the Thornes had fled their Teritory estate in disgrace, that their children's disappearance wasn't a simple kidnapping, and that Marquess Alexander was here for a Vendetta for the kidnapper.
Lady Thorne surveyed her guests with practiced calm, her fingers tracing the rim of her porcelain teacup. She knew exactly why they had come. The Baroness Veyra, never one for subtlety, was the first to strike. "Darling, we've missed you terribly," she purred, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "The capital must seem so...unrefined after the splendor of your gardens at Evermelt."
The unspoken question hung heavy in the air - what could possibly have driven one of the kingdom's most powerful families to abandon their territory home for the dusty and less furnished house of the capital city?
With deliberate grace, Lady Thorne set down her cup. "My husband, the ever charming man he is, thought that I was bored in Evermelt, and when he found a bookstore that sells books unlike any other, he just thought I would enjoy it," she declared, watching as confusion flickered across her guests' faces. From the side table, she lifted a leather-bound volume of Pride and Prejudice, its gold embossing catching the light.
" I would say he is such a caring husband to remember my past hobby, and the book itself is truly a work of art."
" But to move for only a few books, isn't it a bit too much ?" Baroness Veyra continued to probe while hiding her distaste. She knows Lady Thorne is emphasizing the caring husband part because her husband had a rumored affair left and right. He even forgot to attend her last birthday, for a flower from the brothel.
The tea service clinked softly as Lady Thorne poured, her movements as precise as a duelist's. "My dear Baroness," she murmured, "how thoughtful of you to inquire after our relocation. Though I confess, your concern touches me deeply—especially when your own household must be so preoccupied with...festive preparations."
Her eyes flickered meaningfully toward the Baroness's emerald brooch—last season's fashion, hastily donned after her husband's latest indiscretion had forced them to cancel their summer gala.
Baroness Veyra's smile tightened like an overwound harp string. "Festive preparations? How kind of you to notice, darling. Though surely your own transition from Evermelt's grandeur to our humble capital deserves more attention." She stirred her tea with unnecessary vigor. "To abandon ancestral lands for...books. How remarkably...modern of Alexander."
Lady Thorne's laughter tinkled like fine crystal. "Modern? Oh no, my dear. It was the purest tradition—a husband remembering his wife's girlhood love of poetry." She sighed wistfully.
"Though I suppose when one's marriage is blessed with such constant...renewed affection as yours, small gestures might pale in comparison."
The Duchess's fan fluttered appreciatively behind her teacup.
"These volumes from Phoenix Brand," Lady Thorne continued, stroking the embossed cover of Pride and Prejudice, "reminded Alexander of our courting days. So provincial, really—but then, the deepest hearts often express themselves simply." She turned luminous eyes toward the Baroness. "Don't you find your husband's...enthusiasms grow more touching with time?"
Lady Crespin choked delicately on her bergamot infusion.
Baroness Veyra's jeweled fingers tightened around her saucer. "How...sentimental. Though I can't imagine what volumes could possibly justify relocating an entire—"
"Oh but you must see for yourself!" Lady Thorne interrupted with practiced delight. She passed a copy to the Baroness, open to Elizabeth's refusal of Mr. Collins. "This passage in particular reminded me so of dear Lady Amelie's situation last winter—though of course her circumstances were far more...public, weren't they?"
As the words filled the room, something remarkable happened. The Duchess Yvaine abandoned her half-eaten cinnamon cake, leaning forward with uncharacteristic intensity. Lady Crespin's perpetually sour expression softened as Mr. Darcy's letter unfolded. Even Baroness Veyra seemed momentarily stunned into silence, her teacup frozen halfway to her lips. When Lady Thorne finally closed the book, the drawing room was utterly still - the kind of silence that follows a perfectly delivered killing blow.
As the Baroness's complexion mottled, Countess Mira leaned forward with artless curiosity. "However did the Marquess discover such remarkable works?"
"This," Lady Thorne said softly, running her fingers over the book's cover, "is why we stayed." She watched with satisfaction as the Duchess Yvaine, always the quickest to recover, demanded to know where such a remarkable work could be found. "A little shop near the orphanage," Lady Thorne replied. "Phoenix Brand."
"Now, as for those tiresome rumors about my children," Lady Thorne continued, her voice softening into a tone of maternal concern, "Alfon and Alsa have been begging to stay at St. Marla's for weeks. You know how children are about their little adventures." She sighed, the picture of a doting mother humoring her offspring's whims.
"Alexander and I believe it's important for them to understand the world beyond palace gates—to learn compassion, to see how others live." She gave a delicate shrug. "After all, how can they one day govern lands and people they've never truly known?"
She sipped her tea, allowing the noblewomen to absorb this. "Of course, they're hardly unprotected. A dozen of our most trusted guards watch over them day and night, and their tutors follow them there. But children must have their games, mustn't they?"
She turned a page of Pride and Prejudice with deliberate calm. "Though I suppose some might find the idea of noble children playing with common orphans...unsettling." Her gaze flicked toward Baroness Veyra. "But then, those same people often struggle to understand why their own household staff seems so...discontent."
The unspoken implication lingered—perhaps if your children interacted with yours, they wouldn't flee your estate at the first opportunity.
"In any case," Lady Thorne concluded with a dismissive wave, "they'll return home soon enough. For now, let them have their little adventure. After all..." She smiled faintly. "What better education is there than learning the measure of those around you?"
The room was silent for a beat too long before the Duchess smoothly interjected, "How very...enlightened of you."
Lady Thorne inclined her head. "One does try."
And just like that, the rumors were buried—not with denial, but with the far more dangerous implication that questioning her parenting would only reveal one's own lack of it.
As the afternoon wore on, the drawing room transformed into something resembling a literary salon. Noblewomen who had arrived hungry for scandal found themselves engrossed in the adventures of Sherlock Holmes, gasping at the twists and whispering theories to their neighbors. By the time the carriages began arriving to collect the guests at dusk, the rumors about the Thorne family had been thoroughly eclipsed by excited chatter about the remarkable stories they'd discovered.
Lady Crespin, normally the first to depart, lingered still, thinking of Pride and Prejudice like a lifeline. "Where did you say this shop was located?" she asked, her usual haughtiness replaced by genuine curiosity.
Lady Thorne offered a knowing smile. "Follow the crowd tomorrow," she advised.
Through the window, she caught sight of her husband's silhouette in his study - the same man who had scoffed at "frivolous fiction" now hunched intently over The Art of War, his brow furrowed in concentration. Some revolutions, Lady Thorne mused as she watched him turn a page with uncharacteristic reverence, aren't fought with swords but with words.
The shop had been quiet for several days.
Too quiet.
Eamond stood behind the counter, fingers drumming against the polished oak as he watched another hour pass without a single customer. The shelves stood neat and untouched, their carefully arranged books gathering dust. Even Jake had given up his usual perch by the window, opting instead to flip listlessly through Treasure Island for the fifth time.
"Vale," Eamond said, voice tight. "You're certain Lady Thorne promoted us at her tea party?"
The old butler didn't look up from the ledger. "Down to the last detail, sir. She read passages aloud—dramatically, I might add. The ladies were enthralled."
"Then where are they?"
Vale adjusted his spectacles. "Patience, Master Eamond. Nobility moves at its own pace."
Lysandra, sprawled across a back table charring new labels, snorted. "Or they hated it."
Eamond's jaw tightened. He'd staked too much on this gamble—the renovations, the inventory, the expectation that Lady Thorne's influence would send society flocking to their door. And yet—
The bell above the door jingled.
Three women stood on the threshold, their silk gowns slightly rumpled, their breathing just a touch too quick—as if they'd hurried.
"Is this," the first demanded, eyes scanning the shelves with the intensity of a hawk spotting prey, "where the Phoenix Brand books are sold?"
Silence.
Then—
"We'll take everything."
" Welcome, Ladies, to our establishment." Eamond said with a smile.