Chapter 17: Chapter 17 – Mr Rowntree’s Happy Corner (No, this isn´t a brothel, I swear)

It was an odyssey to reach the Northrop home on his next afternoon off, and from Lilac Hall it was impossible to borrow a carriage to get to at least the outskirts of Snodland. Because that service was reserved for the lords and guests of the master, it would have been even disrespectful if a simple gardener even suggested it! At least, Oscar wouldn´t anyone angry for asking if he could, since he could hide himself in his ignorance that he was badly used to his previous employment.

As he wasn´t even allowed to notify any of the owners of the stables belonging to the village, where they rented cars for a limited time and trips, so that they would come and wait for him at the door and at least reach him as far as Snodland, Oscar had to do the almost three miles between one mansion and another on foot.

Not only that, as the Northrop property was only a stone's throw from the Cornell property, poor Oscar found himself making all sorts of detours, avoiding the main road - since he had to walk and, therefore, if anyone acquaintance spotted him would be less likely to successfully evade him — and even hiding in bushes or behind a tree when he sensed someone passing by.

In truth, he looked like a common thief with such tricks! And he was not waiting to verify if someone he knew was traveling in the car that was running next to him or if the voices he heard in the distance were from a neighbor who could betray him. He didn´t want to take unnecessary risks, as long as the Cornells didn´t know he was there and that he didn´t intend to visit them, he was even capable of throwing himself on the floor. He had it decided.

For all this, when he reached Thornfield, he arrived ten minutes after the agreed time. He believed for an instant, remembering Albert's words, that it would be the end of him. That the effort to reach the entrance gate would be in vain, imagining the aforementioned would have already left with all his entourage who knows in which direction.

But not really. When Oscar finally arrived at Thornfield, a carriage awaited outside the entrance and the coachman, without asking any questions, motioned for him to get on.

He had barely been told to go up, so he did, preparing a string of sincere apologies for his lateness. Apologies that the villain on duty seemed to ignore, because as soon as the door through which he had entered was closed, Albert limited himself to signaling the coachman to start the march. And, due to the abrupt acceleration, Oscar almost fell on his ass on the seat opposite Albert.

Aside from making such an embarrassing appearance, he must have looked horrible, having had to exert such an effort to get to the mansion under that summer sun. It was not surprising, therefore, that Albert ended up inquiring:

“A hard day?” Before the other answered, he sentenced. “Maybe we should have canceled it. I didn't want to say it so suddenly, but lately you always look miserable when we see each other. You should take better care of yourself and rest as much as possible, if Lilac Hall gives you the opportunity to do so.”

"Thanks for worrying, but I'm fine," Then, in a whisper, Oscar added as he removed his cap and tried to wipe the sweat with his sleeve, for lack of a handkerchief. “I always look miserable, he says? There´s nothing else that could have been today.”

It was true that he could have sent a note to Thornfield and canceled the engagement, but he didn´t think it appropriate. First, because it was important to get those books for Theresa, and second, because he didn't want to upset the Northrops either. Even if he suspected he had made some progress in the novel and that neither siblings would hold anything against him if he decided to back down, he still didn´t believe he was in a position to choose his fate without negatively impacting his existence.

"Last Sunday too, although I preferred not to say anything about it," Albert pointed out and, seeing that Oscar didn't understand what he was referring to, he clarified. “You had, in your face…”

Ah, the smack from Madeleine! Oscar remembered it instantly. He had been so strong that it took him almost a week to heal.

"T-that was an accident, the truth is that luck has not been on my side these past weeks. But I got faith that things will change soon, as I am already beginning to adapt to this new job.”

"I see you adapt well." Albert said this looking at the feet of Oscar, who had not noticed this, but they were full of mud and grass debris. “Is that why you have been slow to arrive?”

"I had some difficulty finding transportation, so I decided to walk over." Noticing how stained his shoes were, he was quick to apologize. “I think it wasn´t a good idea.”

“It was not. If you had sent me a note, I´d have had no problem traveling to Lilac Hall and waiting for you there.”

Hearing this, Oscar was speechless. It took him several seconds to react, as stupid as he felt.

"No, I couldn't. It would not be appropriate to bother you about such triviality, I should have ascertained before that there would be no carriage to approach Thornfield and consequently leave earlier today.”

“It's not a triviality, if you delay, you delay us all. And that, if it is repeated too much, is unforgivable.”

"Right, I apologize for that," he conceded. “It won´t happen again.”

It had not occurred to Oscar to send a note to Thornfield asking them to accompany him from there, assuming it was better not to take advantage of the villain's apparent goodness, he never considered asking him for help for more than he was willing to offer at his own risk and expense. Besides, now that he thought twice, how the hell was he going to ask the villain to wait for him outside Lilac Hall? What if someone from the service or, worse, Patrick Seymour saw it? He would have to give a few explanations! Of course, that wouldn't have been as worrisome as one of the Cornells seeing him alongside one of the Northrop, but he would give her an avoidable hard time.

"So," Albert continued after a few minutes, "do you want us to drop you off at Seymour's property when you return, or do you prefer to do the walk again? Although of course, if you get off where you got on, you could use the rest of your free afternoon to visit Rose Cottage.”

"Better not, I'll almost certainly be too tired for visits by then. If you could drop me off at Snodland it would be enough.”

Anyway, Snodland was on the way if he went to Thornfield. Lilac Hall was close to town, but in the opposite direction from the Northrop home, so if Albert decided to head toward the Seymour home, he would then have to turn around to return to his own mansion. Oscar took advantage of this information to come up with the ideal excuse for the other not to approach Lilac Hall in his company.

"I thought you wanted to see your uncles."

"No, for a week that I can't visit them, nothing will happen. If I don't visit Rose Cottage during the week, they themselves take care of visiting me on their day off” Oscar said this being half true, and that is that personal visits were prohibited in his new job; so if he did meet his relatives, it was usually through a fence and the conversation lasted no more than ten minutes. “Besides, my aunt insists that I write to her every week. I no longer live in Rose Cottage, but from the things she learns from what I tell her, it is as if I´m still around.”

Although he looked like a bloody convict in a palace full of luxuries that didn't belong to him, Oscar still seemed able to keep up his appearances. No, he didn't miss his uncles. And it wasn't because they visited or wrote often, but because they weren't his real uncles! But that kind of thing shouldn't be said, of course.

Albert had to settle for the explanation given to him, because he no longer wanted to talk about the subject and the rest of the journey passed in an awkward silence that Oscar did not dare to break.

Had Letitia already gone to her engagement to these Allards? Yes, the answer was obvious. If she hadn't left, at least she would have gone out to see her brother off. Oscar at some point hoped that she would change her mind and choose to accompany them to the neighboring town. Or, in case of not being able, that she would have gotten into the carriage with them and accompanied them halfway, when she would have to get off to visit someone else's house.

The reason Oscar was thinking this, even now, was that with Letitia it was not difficult for him to find conversation. With Albert, on the other hand, he didn´t get along so well that he decided to let go.

Luckily, Albert didn't seem interested in socializing with whoever he was in charge of, so he set about ignoring him. Thanks to that, Oscar was able to do the same without feeling even a shred of remorse. He tried to sit near a corner, where there was a small window overlooking the outside, and decided to focus on the landscape. He still felt awkward as he watched, but he told himself that he should do his best to pretend calmness. Anyway, the afternoon had just begun and if he wanted to survive that pornographic fascicle disguised as a juvenile novel, he had to get used to coexisting peacefully with the villain.

The drive to Chattenden took an endless fifty clock minutes. Oscar knew it, because he was counting the seconds until the narrow dirt paths changed to a series of cobbled streets through which dozens of countrymen walked calmly, like any other Sunday. An afternoon mass must have been brewing, because not long after the carriage stopped at a small square, the church bells were heard in the distance. And Albert got out of the vehicle without waiting or saying a word.

Oscar followed him, also without speaking, thinking correctly that the other wanted him to accompany him.

After giving the coachman some quick instructions, Albert led Oscar to one of the shops located on one of the four main streets of a village that rivaled his already well-known Snodland in size. Being specific, the place was located on the same corner as Letitia had indicated last week. It was a two-store building, not very promising in appearance since, although it was not that old, the flowers arranged next to the windows looked faded, the shop windows were crying out for a thorough cleaning and the façade was missing a good coat of paint.

Also, there was a rather large sign above the door that said, "Mr Rowntree's Happy Corner," which made Oscar think of a shabby brothel rather than a reputable bookstore.

Albert didn´t seem to be aware of the change in the face of his companion, because without paying attention he went to the door of the business and knocked a couple of times, forcefully.

After a couple of minutes there was no response, so Albert tried again. Again, having made the attempt in vain, he turned to his companion:

"Let's try the back door."

Maybe he saw us coming and decided to go with his realm of pleasure elsewhere, Oscar thought. But he fell silent, thinking that Albert would not appreciate such a joke, and he simply followed him into the street behind. From there a faint light could be seen coming from one of the windows on the upper floor, indicating the building was occupied.

Albert repeated the operation he had carried out minutes before but, this time, with the door that led to the small garden in which they now stood. This did not help either, not even though the villain was cruel to the wood in a somewhat more brutal way than he did before. Even so, the person occupying the building didn´t seem to have any intention of attending to visitors. Either that, or the guy must be stone deaf.

Even if he tried not to show it, Oscar was amused by the situation. Because having read about Albert, he knew that he was not the type of character who would scream on a public road to get anyone's attention. So he watched him for a while longer, until he was tired. And noticing him already desperate, he chose to take a pebble from the ground while he said:

"Let's try this, maybe he can't hear the door from up there."

Albert didn´t reprimand, much less stop him, when he threw the stone in the direction of the window. So, there being no impediments, Oscar trusted himself. It was a pity that his aim did not behave as he wanted and his projectile hit the curb of the window, slamming against the wall and falling to the floor without making a sound. And is that Oscar had chosen a very small stone, large enough to make a sound when hitting a glass, but not strong enough to break it.

With Albert watching him silently, he reached for another stone the same size and tossed it. That one ended up crashing into the frame. On his third chance he was lucky, having fine-tuned his firing range —because throwing pebbles with the precision of a surgeon was an arduous task for ordinary mortals— the projectile reached the window… and went through it.

Despite no sound of broken glass, the exclamation of pain from the only inhabitant of the building made Oscar understand he had fulfilled his mission to get noticed.

Ah, but what the hell? That window had no glass! From below it seemed so, because the frames were intact and, due to the shadows, it was not possible to discern the reflection of the sun in the transparent part.

Just when Oscar was beginning to wonder what kind of disturbed person would be who refrained from putting glass in all the windows on the upper floor - well, fortunately or out of fear of thieves, there were on the lower floor - a man of middle-aged leaned out the window. He looked angry, still with one hand on the back of his head, feeling for an area that must have been sore.

"Damn kids! Haven't I told you a thousand times to go play guerrillas in another plac… !?” The guy stopped, squinting to better focus on the two people standing at the foot of his house. “Ah, but it is you, Mr. Northrop! Forgive me that I did not realize before, the weekends are terrible for me.” Changing his previous grimace for a smile that should only be shown to the most select clientele, he asked helpfully. “What can I do for you?”

"I'd like to see some books, the kind you keep in your study," he said. Maybe I should have given advance notice, so as not to bother you on your day off, since I couldn't come during the week.”

"Oh, don't worry, it's not a bother. You already know that you and your entire family are welcome here, no matter what time it is! Now, if it can be, could you wait for me at the main entrance? I'll be there right away.”

Albert nodded and this Rowntree closed his glassless window again, stepping back into his bedroom and completely forgetting that he had just received a stone. No, it wasn't just that he had forgotten about the attack. He hadn't even recognized Oscar's mere presence! Since he had only addressed Albert, Oscar wanted to attribute that behavior to the fact that the bookseller must have had a vision problem and therefore he couldn´t distinguish figures in the distance.

This suspicion was confirmed not long after, when he and the villain were again at the front door, waiting for someone to open it. Well, from inside, footsteps were heard approaching, stumbling and throwing something heavy that, now, sounded like glass when breaking. There were more forceful things falling down and a profanity or two not at all disguised. Oscar wondered if the little man had hurt himself, but Albert remained calm, as if he had witnessed this spectacle so many times that he already knew it by heart.

You are reading story How to survive the worst novel ever written at novel35.com

Rowntree opened the door. He was still wearing his pajamas under his robe and holding a monocle in front of his right eye as he tried to look presentable in the face of such an illustrious visitor he had just received. Saying good morning to him, even if it was afternoon, the bookseller invited Albert to come in. But, before Oscar could accompany him, the individual stood at the door as a barrier, preventing him from entering.

"Let him pass," Albert interceded.

Those must have been the magic words, because no reasons were needed; like a good guard dog to whom his master indicates that the new human on his property is a guest and not an intruder, Rowntree turned away from him without question.

Inside, the store looked even more run down than outside. With the books piled up everywhere and the shelves, also overflowing with material, located unevenly throughout the space. The wallpaper on the walls was rotten, the boards on the floor didn´t seem to be well secured and there were multiple objects (whether they were documents or empty cups) that accumulated on tables and armchairs, making it difficult to find a place to sit. In addition, since the curtains were drawn and hardly any light entered the room, one had enough to figure out where to put their foot so as not to step on anything.

Oscar noticed a few titles as he followed the two men to the back of the store: those were contemporary works of that time, odd foreign novels now considered a classic, and a bunch of volumes specializing in a variety of things he wasn´t interested in. Anyway, normal things that any bookstore could have. Perhaps the repertoire was a little more complete than that of the Snodland bookstore, but the price and the commonality of the manuscripts were still much more humble than what Theresa requested.

"Excuse me for not being so polite as I used to," Rowntree was saying as he kicked an empty box out of the way. “Sally resigned from her position last Wednesday and I still haven't had time to find a replacement. She´s the third to resign in a month! There is no seriousness anymore, nobody takes jobs seriously.”

“It doesn't matter, I haven't come to inspect how clean everything is.”

What a hypocrite! Oscar thought. Had it been anywhere else, this type of poisonous tongue would have had no qualms about complaining. What's more, he didn't even understand what they were doing in that filthy bookstore. It didn't seem like the kind of place someone like Albert Northrop would drop by. Much less did the owner seem to be the type of person he would tolerate easily. There had to be a trick.

"Well, well, were you looking for something in particular?"

Albert looked at Oscar who, relegated from the conversation, had been analyzing his surroundings until he realized that someone was waiting for an answer. In that instant, seeing he was finally required, he pulled out Theresa's famous list. He was going to tell the shopkeeper about her, but Albert snatched it from his hands and spoke again, excluding him once more.

"I'd like to know if I could get these books. It seems to me that they are from a publisher that has already done business with in the past.”

Rowntree's eyes fell on the paper, trying hard to unravel what was written there with his one eye that could see well. Then, as he went through all the titles, his face changed. If Oscar were to describe it, he´d say the man seemed to have found gold in that battered piece of paper, because when finished reading he went to the door at the back of the room and barely had time to look at Albert to say:

“Follow me, please. I don't know if I'll even have any of these still.”

And they followed him. Rowntree held the door for the most excellent villain to pass, smiling at him as if he were a king who´s back in the palace after years of absence. Oscar believed the door would close in his face, but that didn´t happen. The bookseller also held it as he passed, although the smile he had given his regular customer had turned into a dark expression that came to say something like: "You aren´t worthy to enter this temple."

Oscar ignored said look, thinking he would have nothing to envy of that cubicle anyway. But he was wrong.

The place in question had nothing to do with anything previously seen in the store. There, mysterious as it seemed, everything was cared for in an excellent way and provided with the most exquisite decoration. The floor shone, the paintings and walls were decorated with tapestries comparable to those that could be seen in the great halls of Lilac Hall, and the many shelves that were there were occupied with hundreds of books, arranged in perfect order, which must have been specialized volumes or first editions.

The desk there was uncluttered and seemed to be made of excellent quality wood, as were the armchairs, which remained in the center of the room, along with a small table and an expensive tea set. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, adding majesty to the office.

There were no windows, but they weren't needed either. This room glowed by itself. It was not surprising the owner had placed eight padlocks on the door that led to this secret room.

Oscar was amazed as soon as he entered. Although he had seen collections larger than this, he had never seen one of such quality and so well preserved. That is why he could not avoid passing his hand over the spine of some novels that were close to him and which were intended to be first editions of Russian classics, thus earning Rowntree to yell at him:

"Don't touch that or...!"

Would he kill him? Oscar took his hand away calmly, as if he had encountered an annoying mosquito that could not hurt him. That overreaction was expected.

"The books, please," Albert reminded the bookseller, making sure that he didn´t deviate from the real purpose of the visit.

Rowntree was back on his gentle side. He invited the two customers to sit down and only offered Albert something to drink. Then he spent several minutes browsing the shelves, looking for what was asked of him. He came back with four of the thirteen novels that were on Theresa's list.

"You see, I had them," he declared proudly. “You can see for yourself, they are authentic first editions, imported and preserved as if they had just come off the press. You won't find any blemishes in the whole book! Also, they have this stamp around here, which attests they aren´t copies, but originals.”

Saying this, Rowntree invited Albert to take the books and inspect them on his own. Oscar thought he was the one who should do that, since the task of finding them was not assigned to the villain, but the bookseller was already giving him a bad look and was afraid of losing an arm if he even made a pretense of trying to touch one of them again.

"Can you get the rest?"

"I can get all of them, although these four are not for sale, as they are part of my private collection. If you're interested, I can contact my supplier and get the order delivered in, say, three weeks? Yes, I think that in three weeks I could have them all.”

"In that case, ask for them. You'll need the cash in advance, right? Tell me how much it is and I'll pay right now. When the books arrive, I'll be back to collect them.”

Hearing this, Oscar panicked. What the hell was this guy doing? They had agreed they´d go to the bookstore to see if the books could be obtained... And that's it! It was not in anyone's plans to buy them, much less do it by emptying the villain's wallet!

"You don't need to do this," Oscar murmured, turning exclusively to Albert so Rowntree wouldn't hear him.

"Yes I do, if Miss Cornell came alone asking for it, she wouldn't even be allowed to set foot in this room."

Oscar didn't respond, but the disgust could be read on his face. It was true that if Rowntree behaved as he had with him, Theresa would not have had a chance. The best thing would be for someone like the villain to acquire her novels for her, but even so, Oscar didn't want to owe anybody favors.

"I'll buy the books," Albert said. "You can tell Miss Cornell. And, when they arrive, she will return the money to me.”

That being the case, Oscar had no choice but to thank him for the gesture and shut up, despite not being entirely convinced. Half an hour later, the two found themselves back in the carriage, having already established the order for the supplier and agreed with Rowntree that Albert would return in a month to collect the order.

Although, it wasn't that bad, right? I mean, having gotten rid of Theresa's assignment so simply, he could pass the trouble of owing the villain to her. Because in truth, he himself had no interest in those novels. It worked for him with any reading material whose plot was interesting and its letters were legible. He didn't care whether they were second-hand tomes or novels just bought from a local bookstore. He paid attention to the price, yes, but just enough so that his pocket wouldn't suffer too much.

Now, that room in Rowntree´s… He couldn't say he was sorry to see it.

Oscar shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It was already ten minutes on the road when Albert decided to break the new silence that he had created to say:

"With this, we´re even."

“What?”

"I said that with this we even. These weeks you have been pleasant company for my sister, which is appreciated, because she doesn´t have many friends in this region and tends to get bored because of it. In London too, she told me herself, she was getting bored until you came over to talk. It seems that at the Summerfield ball everyone was too busy to attend to her properly and, despite the fact that she came with some friends who accompanied her for most of the evening, there was a certain moment when she was relegated to the background” Gathering all the courage of an older brother resentful that he missed his beloved little sister, he added. “If I had been there, that would not have happened. But luckily her mood improved after talking to you.”

"I don't understand anything," Oscar confessed.

'I talked to her for a few minutes, I didn't get her out of a well, you dramatic shit', Oscar was thinking. Besides, wasn't it normal to be alone for a while, even in a crowded room?

"What I meant is that helping you get those books is my way of paying for that great service you have done by granting us your friendship."

"Ah... But it wasn't necessary to spend anything," Oscar insisted, "You could have said it earlier. There was no need to waste time and money on this matter. A thank you was enough.”

Albert looked at him strangely.

"I already tried, but it was impossible. The first time we met, in Lilac Hall, I approached you with that intention, but you ran off before I had time to say anything. And then, these days that you are passing by our house, how am I going to talk about this with Letitia in front of us? Surely she would downplay it and wouldn't let me finish.”

Oscar thought quickly. What if this was the reason why, every Sunday, the villain chose to stay in the library when he came to visit? Regardless of whether he was not uncomfortable with his company or was genuinely interested in having a friend of his sister hanging around, couldn't it be that, during all that time, he had been looking for a moment to get close to him and say this?

After all, Thornfield was the only place they saw each other and, being there, they had never met alone. Letitia was always present.

"Not to mention that it's only the two of you talking," Albert continued, who looked more frustrated than angry by now, "it's not like I want to intercede in the conversation when it's not my place."

Besides, what was he going to say? He could imagine he would add. Albert was not a good talker, so there was no doubt that those weeks he had been holding back, perhaps wondering what´d be the best way to approach that elusive ex-groom who, from what he must have thought, was too shy to have a relaxed chat with him.

Hearing this then, Oscar felt even stupider than he ever had before. He didn't know how to respond anymore, but it seemed that this villain had a real talent for making him look like an idiot.

You can find story with these keywords: How to survive the worst novel ever written, Read How to survive the worst novel ever written, How to survive the worst novel ever written novel, How to survive the worst novel ever written book, How to survive the worst novel ever written story, How to survive the worst novel ever written full, How to survive the worst novel ever written Latest Chapter