This is in response to the REGENCY CHALLENGE on WIKTT.
Chapter 10: The Bookstore
Miss Granger started at her absurd reflection in the strangely silent mirror. A silence that was due to the excessive use of charms and a reasonable degree of fear given the accident its predecessor had suffered. A veritable pink of the ton looked back at her.
Hessian boots, with their matching yellow tassels that encased her calves up to the bright yellow pantaloons she wore. The corset and buckram wadding she used to disguise her figure was torture itself causing itching and scratching in places not mentioned in public; the fact that male members of the haute ton regularly resorted to the use of these tools to improve their figures only added to her contempt of the species in general though a rather traitorous part of her mind suggested that Lord Snape most likely needed no such embellishments. Her ensemble was topped off with a puce waistcoat, shirt-points so high she was in danger of loosing an ear if she turned her head to quickly, a gentlemen's beaver hat, gold quizzing glass, and a cravat so complicated that only magic held it in style. All that was needed now was a suitable distraction that would allow her to slip unnoticed from the house and repair to Flourish & Blotts bookstore on Carnaby Street; after all there was a book awaiting her.
The fates, in their infinite capriciousness, saw fit to provide a distraction far in excess of any that Miss Ganger could have hoped for. At the very moment she needed the Dursley household to be distracted an elegant town coach drawn by four matched blacks was turning out of George Street and beginning its stately way down Conduit Street. The Dowager Duchess McGonagall had decided that given the 'mushroom' nature of people such as the Dursley's that she would be advised to make sure they understood the conditions that bound her offer to bring out the beauteous Miss Dursley; namely that if Miss Granger was missing that evening Miss Dursley would be brought out with the trash.
By the time her coach had actually made it to the Dursley residence, a task that took longer than it would normally take to reach Silence Trelawney's residence for the first ball of the Season, the Dowager was in a high temper. It seemed that everyone alone the street simple had to speak with the Grande Dame purely so that they could casually drop into conversation some phrase along the order of 'when I was speaking with Duchess McGonagall the other day ...'; it was only her excessive breeding and manners, that and the fact she wished to meet the girl that appeared to have turned her nephews head, that prevented many an encroaching mushroom spending the rest of their miserable lives being kept in dark, damp places and being fed the foul remnants from the kitchens.
Mrs Dursley, alerted to the passage of such a Grande Dame assumed, correctly in this case, that it was her household that was to be favoured with the Dowager Duchess's presence. The first thing she did was ensure that the room in which Miss Granger stayed was locked for they would not want her accidentally encroaching on such a momentous visit and possibly bringing ruination on her plans for the advancement of Miss Dursley. The front parlour was transformed, unfortunately for all concerned Mrs Dursley's understanding of 'understated good taste' was on par with her breeding; that is to say it did not exist, and as a result the parlour now looked like the overdone boudoir of one of the fashionable impure.
It was the turning of the lock, and the admonishment to remain in her rooms whilst they entertained an exalted visitor, which signalled Miss Granger's chance to escape. Unaware, and uncaring, about the identity of the Grande Dame approaching the house, Miss Granger quickly charmed a portkey to return her to her rooms then without a moments disquiet apparated out into the backyard. Exiting via the gateway into a lane at the back of the property Miss Granger made her way down to Bond Street; it was that or traverse the longer path up to Mill Street with its greater chance of discovery.
Once she stepped onto Bond Street however Miss Granger realise her mistake; not in terms of having placed herself in any real danger, just that she was now on Bond Street, that famous of shopping Malls and she was free of the encumbrances of any Dursley. Wide eyed, she observed the coming and goings of all the fashionable; she was shocked at the overdressed state of the Dandies and the Tulips, she was awed at the elegance of the Corinthians with there many layered driving capes; she was struck dumb by the beauty of the Diamonds who walked with chaperones in tow. Finally she understood her father's references to the getting of town bronze; a thing she now realised she lacked.
Walking up Bond Street towards Brooke Street and Hanover Square she was accosted by no less than three helpful gentlemen, all of whom had identified the young dandy as a soft mark, with suggestions that she join them for a game of faro, or vingt-et-un, maybe young Sir would be interested in blowing a cloud at one of the more exclusive gentlemen's clubs, or perhaps a mill was more of the gentleman's pleasure-one was expected as Gentleman Filch's establishment between Lord Wolf and Viscount Malfoy-surely the young Sir would appreciate a chance to watch such a match up? If it wasn't the Greek banditti, it was the street urchins who appeared out of the unlikeliest of places, "spare us a coin? It's for me gaffa." One enterprising young lad even tried to pick her pocket.
Harassed and harangued from all sides Miss Granger gave up any pretence of civility and good manners. She strode forward at a great clip, almost running, towards Carnaby Street. Arriving at Flourish and Blotts she was greeted by an unpretentious structure with a modest frontage of no more than 50 feet; it had a single window looking out onto Carnaby, a relatively small sigh advertising the presence of the finest collection of books for sale, and a dark oak door. The external size of the store disappointed Miss Granger as she was expecting something much grander, particularly in light of the premises she had passed on Bond and Brook Street; even Gunther's, that purveyor of ices, was more outwardly magnificent. Her disappointment however was fleeting for as she stepped over the threshold she perceived that secret of all good bookstores, L-space; externally Flourish and Blotts might be un-prepossessing but internally it was an entirely different proposition.
Making herself known to the proprietor as Mr H Goodson she was quickly directed to the Potions and Alchemy section of the store by Mr Blotts, one of the stores owners.
Mr Blotts, who had communicated occasionally with Mr Goodson was surprised to find that the young man was a lot younger than he had expected, still the young gentleman was articulate, well read and an intimate of Viscount Granger, a most important client. Whilst he went to fetch the copy of "How the Wormwood turned and other tales of rare ingredient, By A Potion's Maker" that had been ordered for Viscount Granger he directed the young man to the rear of the store were further publications that might interest the gentleman resided.
Miss Granger was very soon in transports, so many books and only so much money. It wasn't long before she had collected a sizable pile beside her and was beginning to wonder if she should consider transfiguring her reticule into a larger container, a large trunk for instance. Deciding the inadvisability of the scheme Miss Granger began to hope the Mr Blotts could organise delivery.
Whilst Miss Granger entertained herself selecting book after book the owner of Flourish and Blotts was in a quandary. How word had gotten around that 'How the Wormwood turned and other tales of rare ingredient' had been published early he couldn't very well say, but word had and as a result he'd had a stream of customers through this morning purchasing the tome. Now, when he was down to his last copy he was faced with the problem of having two customers in the shop both interested in the one volume; Mr Goodson, who was there to pick up the book for Viscount Granger, and Lord Snape, the Potions Master and another of his most influential customers.
"I'm very sorry M'lord," Blotts was saying as obsequiously as possible, "but the last copy we have has been reserved for Viscount Granger; his agent is here today to pick it up."
Lord Snape allowed his eyebrow to raise up archly, a mere Viscount taking precedence over an Earl. In normal folk the effect of such an action would have been instantaneous and guaranteed to ensure the success of his wishes but Mr Blotts was not normal folk, he was a bookworm of considerable understanding and an even greater intellect; title meant little to him and as he'd had many an interesting correspondence with Mr Goodson then to Mr Goodson would go the book. Lord Snape, recognising the intractable gleam in Blotts eye simple enquired if he could perchance speak with Viscount Granger's agent, after all he had intended to purchase the book as a gift for the Viscount's daughter.
"Mr Goodson is currently perusing the Potions Section." Was all Mr Blotts replied. If the Lord wanted to ask he could? But Mr Blotts would only allow Lord Snape to purchase the text if Mr Goodson gave his permission.
And so it was that Lord Snape went hunting through the stacks to be confronted with a sight he would normally have considered inconceivable; a veritable pink of the ton, the sort of young man that one would normally expect to be out and about on Bond Street Strutting along attempting to catch the eyes of the ladies, not hidden away at the back of a bookstore on Carnaby Street in the sections devoted to academic pursuits, balanced precariously atop a wobbling ladder attempting to reach a book that even he could see was beyond the young man's reach. Striding up to the young man, admonishment for insensibility at the tip of his tongue, Lord Snape failed to observe the pile of books at the ladders base and was soon the instrument of Miss Granger's fall.
TBC JustJeanette