Fallen Grace - Mary Hooper [58]
While a number of dramas were unfolding outside, Grace became aware of a press of people outside the glass doors nearest to her and Miss Violet. Occasionally throughout the day the uniformed men had had to close the store until those customers already inside had been served and dispersed, and at first she thought they were doing this once again. She soon became aware, however, that there was a stately, bearded gentleman outside and that the uniformed men were endeavouring to pull him through the door.
Miss Violet, prompted by Grace, looked at the figure, said, ‘O, Lord!’ Then she went to greet him as he fell through the opening, hissing urgently as she did so, ‘Forward, Miss Grace!’
Grace moved forward. The people outside, she noticed, seemed to have temporarily given up the struggle to get into the store and were now pressed against the doors and windows, their eyes following this new customer’s every move.
‘Good afternoon, sir!’ said Miss Violet. She sank into a far deeper curtsey than any she had executed previously, and seeing this, Grace did likewise. ‘May we conduct you to a department? What is it you wish to purchase, sir?’
‘Damned mourning bands and a couple of black ties!’ came the reply from the man as he pulled off his top hat. He had a deeply lined face, a greying beard and his hair was receding – but he also had very bright blue eyes, which seemed the youngest part of him. He waved his hand at the trappings of the store. ‘Sorry to be blunt with you, but I don’t hold with all this dealing in death!’ He paused and seemed to recover himself slightly. ‘But of course, my own feelings on the matter are not of your concern, and I apologise to you for my bad temper.’
‘That’s quite unnecessary, I assure you, sir,’ Miss Violet murmured.
The man gave a slight smile. ‘I was in the middle of a lecture tour in Liverpool when we heard, and I had to cancel six lectures and come back to London. Why this was, God only knows! The whole country seems to have gone mad with grief.’
‘Indeed they have, sir,’ said Miss Violet, gesturing to the great mob outside. ‘But I’m sorry about your tour,’ she went on. ‘And may I be so bold as to say, Mr Dickens, how much my family and I are enjoying Great Expectations.’
Grace gasped slightly, but only to herself. She was glad that being a mute had imbued her with the skill of hiding her feelings or she might have stood there gawping.
‘My mother and I are at loggerheads over who should be first to read each instalment as soon as the magazine comes through the door,’ Miss Violet continued. ‘And my brother has stopped his pocket watch at twenty minutes to nine in deference to the clocks at Miss Havisham’s house. He says he’ll not start it again until he’s finished the book!’
‘Capital! Capital! I’m pleased to hear it,’ Charles Dickens said, smiling and quite placated, while Grace mentally added his name to the list of things she had to tell Lily.
x
Chapter Twenty
Mr and Mrs Stanley Robinson and their baby came into the Unwin Mourning Emporium quite late in the afternoon, when Miss Violet and Grace – and all the rest of the staff – were quite exhausted. Nevertheless, Miss Violet went forward to greet them, and after bidding them good afternoon, was unable to resist patting the head of the laughing, gurgling child that Mr Robinson carried.
‘What a beautiful baby!’ she said, beckoning Grace to come and see.
Mr and Mrs Robinson beamed at them both. ‘One is probably prejudiced, but he is beautiful, isn’t he?’ said the child’s father.
‘He is indeed,’ Grace agreed, smiling and holding out a finger to the infant.
‘And how might we at Unwin’s be of assistance to you today, sir and madam?’ asked Miss Violet.
‘We want your advice, really,’ said Mrs Robinson. ‘Baby is being christened on Sunday. We left it until he was six