The River of No Return by Bee Ridgway (best novels of all time txt) 📕

her. But instead of making any headway on these very real problems, she was standing in a bookshop, teetering on the verge of tears, thinking about her swain kissing another shepherdess. A blonde shepherdess dripping with amethysts.

Bella pulled on her sleeve. She looked contrite, to the extent that a pitchfork-wielding devil can look contrite. “You are scowling,” she said. “I’m terribly sorry if I caused you distress.”

Julia thinned her lips and said nothing. Instead she stared at the rows of books and the men and women who stood about, looking into them, not talking to one other. Two dozen people in two dozen different worlds. Worlds of knowledge, beauty, romance, discovery.

“Let me take you to visit my friend, the one I told you about when we were having ices,” Bella said. “We can leave the footmen and take Solvig. No one will trouble us when we have a dog as big as a pony. Clare will be happy here for a couple of hours until we return.”

Julia turned her head and looked out of the window at the bright spring day. Another two dozen people out in the sunshine, dashing here and there, on their way through their different lives. Happy lives, sad lives—who could tell?

Julia had gone twice in the past two days—humiliating fact—to the cupola. Each time she told herself she was going to practice. And she had, to good effect. She had managed to turn the seconds briefly backward and to freeze time for as long as forty minutes. It was an exhilarating and terrifying power, this control she had. Terrifying and lonely.

She had hoped that Nick would come and find her practicing. That he would find her out. That her secret would be revealed, shared, understood, without her having to decide to tell him. He would sense her shifting time and come up to the cupola to find her there in a bubble of timelessness. He would step into the bubble. . . .

Well. The cupola and the fantasy were both castles in the air.

She wheeled and faced Bella. “Yes,” she said. “Let’s go.”

* * *

It was a considerable walk from genteel Hatchards to Soho Square, which sat at the edge of a great slum. Julia was pleased to see that although Bella was adventurous, she wasn’t a complete fool; she led them all the way north past the construction that was busily transforming old Swallow Street into the much-vaunted, grandiose New Street. They then turned right along busy Oxford Street, rather than cut through the noisome, dark streets of Soho. Solvig began to get excited and pulled on the lead. Julia was surprised to find that she, too, felt a rising thrill, as though she were coming home.

“Here we are, and Solvig seems to know it!” Bella pointed to a pretty yellow house that faced on the square from the south corner of Carlisle Street. Julia looked up at the fanciful façade. Of course she had never been here before, and yet something seemed to sizzle in the air, some familiar happiness just out of reach. As they mounted the stairs, Julia found herself grasping the iron rail and fighting back tears; this was how Castle Dar had felt, before Grandfather died and Eamon arrived.

Bella’s knock was answered by a diminutive elderly man in black, who, when he saw the dog, drew back in horror. But Solvig seemed delighted to see him and surged forward in spite of Bella’s hauling back on her lead. “No. No dog.” The old man’s English was not very good. “You must keep dog.”

“We aren’t offering you the dog,” Bella said. “Down, Solvig.” The beast had her huge paws up on the man’s shoulders and was licking his face. “Down!” With a yank on the lead, Bella managed to pull Solvig away without herself tumbling back down the steps and into the street. “We are here to see Miss Blomgren.”

“Ja, ja . . .” The old man eyed them up and down as he brushed dog hair from his jacket.

“I met Miss Blomgren in the square last week. . . .”

“What she offer you?”

“Offer me? Why, nothing. We talked about women’s education. . . .”

The old man opened his hands and looked to heaven. “Education! Why you not say? Miss Blomgren help you. But not dog.”

Bella drew herself up. “We are not here for Miss Blomgren’s help. We are visiting. I am Lady Arabella Falcott and this is Miss Percy. Now announce us to her. With dog.”

The old man led them into the house. “Miss Blomgren is in kitchen. You follow me. Announce yourselves.” He opened a door. “Down there.” He pointed. “Take dog.” And he was gone.

Julia and Bella peered down a stairway into darkness. A bright smell, half sweet, half sour, rose to meet their nostrils. It wasn’t like anything Julia had smelled before. There was some spice in it that she didn’t recognize, and a powerful odor of dill. In fact, the smell was so strong that it was almost unpleasant, with a tang that brought tears to her eyes.

They descended the steps. At the bottom there was a doorway to the right and a smaller, older-looking doorway to the left. The smell was overwhelming. “Hello?” Julia called.

Then they heard the sound of coughing, and the door to the right was flung open. Vinegary steam poured out. Solvig gave one deep, joyful bark and launched herself into the room.

“Solvig!” A woman’s surprised voice floated out to them through the mist, followed by more coughing. “What are you doing here?” The steam was dissipating, revealing a tall woman in a homespun dress, her hair tucked up under a starched white cap, except for one white-blonde strand that had escaped and was curling down her neck. Her hands were stained bright pink halfway up to the elbows. “Oh, hello! I’m sorry about the smell. I put the vinegar in when the pan was too hot.” She spoke with a light accent.

“Hello, Miss Blomgren,” Bella said, holding her hand out. “We met in the square a week and more ago. Do you