Josephine Barry always had everything bottled up inside.
The minute she was old enough to form a consecutive sentence, it was "josephine!" this, and "You'll find a strapping young husband!" that. Either that, or "Josephine you should really think about wearing a tighter corset." or "Do you HAVE to wear your hair that way? Its not very becoming of you."
And she just went along with it, because she would obviously have to get married at somepoint.
She didnt want to get married. Atleast, not to Theodore Kenny, the bloody prick who followed her everywhere. It was a releif and a curse when she was sent to paris to study at a finishing school. She was finally away from her family, but god forbid she would actually learn anything intelligent, instead it was nearly all curtsies and not nearly enough learning for her taste.
So, she took to visiting the bookshop three streets away from the school, and reading each and every book.
It was a friday afternoon when she was perusing a bookshelf and reading the first few pages of a dreadfully long mystery, when she heard a voice pipe up from behind her.
"Oh darling, I wouldnt read that if I were you. Its tearfully drabby and poorly written, not to mention that the protagonist is murdered in the end."
She turned to face a woman with otherworldly hazel eyes, pulling her into a pool of warmth. Her long hair streamed down her back, two coils falling where it tucked behind her ears. She wore a simple dark dress, and Josephine felt her cheeks flush as the woman smiled.
She schooled her features, and narrowed her gaze to a hard glare. "You just had to spoil the book, didnt you?"
"Darling, Im doing you a favor. Its terribly bleak, I wouldnt think someone like you would want to read it."
She tilted her head. "Someone like me?"
The womans lips split into a smirk, and she ran her tongue over her teeth. "Yeah, someone like you. I've seen you here before, you just devour every book in sight. And most of them are good, Besides this one." she tapped the book in her hands, and pulled it from her grip, turning swiftly and pushing it back into the shelf.
"Im Gertrude, By the way." She held out her hand, and Josephine took it tentatively, making note of her slim fingers and defined lines of her bones at her knuckles against the white silk of her own gloves.
"Josephine."
She chuckled. "Well, Josephine, If you'll come with me, I have some book recommentations for you." She slipped between the shelves, leaving Josephine to follow suit. She led her to behind the counter, and pushed open a door.
"The bookshop owner lets me put my favorites in here." She explained, stepping into the small room.
It had a bookshelf lining the wall, filled with all kinds of books and little pamphlets. The floor was littered with papers, and an armchair sat in the corner.
She ran her fingers along the spines of the books, scanning each and every title of each and every book.
"This..this is incredible."
"My own private collection." Gertrude grinned from behind her. She felt her draw closer, and lean over her slowly. "now..anything specific that youre looking for?" she purred
Josephine took a sharp breath and bit her tongue. For the first time since Abbie Cray, when she was thirteen, she felt the stirring in her chest. The warmth that bubbled in her stomach, the feeling like there were two hands curling around her heart and squeezing, taking her breath away.
"Yes, Ive been meaning to read gullivers travels, if you have it."
Gertrude scoffed. "Dear god..nightmare book. I'd recommend Jane Eyre, That is, if you like romance."
Josephine almost choked, and looked up at the taller woman. "romance?"
she rolled her eyes. "Yes, romance. Its not really too romantic, its much deeper than one would think."
Jo swallowed quickly. "Yes..erm, would you maybe want to go to the cafe? I have to return to my boarding house soon, but I've got a few spare hours."
"Thought you'd never ask. Theres a cafe down the street, If you'll allow me to escort you."
"Yes. I'd like that." She took Gertrudes extended hand, and allowed herself to be led out of the bookshop.