Page 11 of His Revelation
The paper had obviously been read several times before, and it wasn’t until she saw her sister bite her lower lip—a childhood habit none of Mother’s nagging had been able to cure Bonnie of—that Tiffany realized just how bad the news was.
“Bonnie?”
When her sister looked up, and Tiffany saw the faint shimmer of tears in her eyes, she gasped out, “Oh, Bonnie!” and slid from atop the old well. “What is it?” she asked as she hurried across the garden.
But her sister didn’t answer, even when Tiffany settled on the bench beside her. She hesitated only a moment before wrapping her arm around Bonnie’s shoulders and pulling her closer.
“What is wrong, Bonnie? Another rejection?”
“Yes,” sniffed Bonnie. “IknowI should not be upset each time. The Lord knows I have had enough No-thank-you-for-your-submission-but-we-cannot-publish-a-scholarly-work-by-a-woman letters to last a lifetime.”
“But that does not mean they hurt less when you receive one.” Tiffany pulled a hankie from her sleeve and passed it to her sister. “Let me read this one.”
“This one is the worst because Ireallythought Grimm & Son was my best chance. They have published books written by women before! And they took so long to respond, I thoughtsurelyI would be receiving an acceptance from them.”
“Oh, Bonnie.” Tiffany’s heart broke to hear the despair in her sister’s voice. “I am so sorry.”
When Bonnie offered the letter, Tiffany removed her arm from her sister’s shoulders and sat up straighter.
“Miss Oliphant … thrilled to receive your offer … your hard work and research … time investment…’” she murmured as she read. “…would definitely be interested in reading an excerpt… Bonnie, this does not sound like bad news!”
“Keep reading,” came her sister’s dull reply.
Frowning, Tiffany lifted the letter to read the second paragraph. “Unfortunately, I am sad to announce I will be selling the publishing house my father and I built. Although I am proud of my efforts to diversify the offerings to Edinburgh’s educated classes—indeed, the world!—I have reached an age when I can no longer successfully manage such a business.”
Understanding her sister’s feeling of hopelessness, Tiffany quietlytskedand read the rest of the letter to herself. Mr. Grimm again apologized, saying Bonnie’s manuscript would be of great interest to him, but since he was still looking for a buyer, he couldn’t in good conscience offer for it.
“Oh, how kind of him, he even included the amount of money he is asking for this publishing house,” she muttered sarcastically, “in case we know of anyone interested in purchasing.”
Beside her, Bonnie stilled. Tiffany glanced over just in time to see her sister explode from her seat and slam her book down on the bench.
“Bonnie?”
“Sometimes I wish Icouldbuy the publishing house!” her sister burst out, before whirling around and pacing toward the well. “I could publish my book then, yes, but also books byotherwomen! I would not even worry about trying to sell to men, because I have the brains to know there are enough ladies out there who like to read, and I could sell tothem.”
Tiffany’s brow rose. “Oh, certainly. I can imagine a publishing house for ladies would be quite successful. You could publish cookery, and novels, and advice on child-rearing?—”
Bonnie whirled back around, pointing one long finger at Tiffany’s nose. “And physics and history and poems! Not all ladies have fluff between their ears!”
Tiffany’s second brow joined the first, making her feel a bit like a wide-eyed fish. “You are correct, of course. If you owned a publishing house, you could print your own book, which is not fluff at all. None of your work is.”
“Right.” Mollified, Bonnie’s shoulders slumped. “But I cannot even convince a house to print it. So how can I get enough money tobuya publishing house?”
Shrugging, Tiffany planted one palm on the stone beside her and leaned her weight on it. “You could marry well.”
“I’m not marrying.” Her sister scowled. “Why would I want to tie myself to one place, when there is a whole world to see out there? Remember the trips we used to take to York to visit Great-Aunt Gertrude? She used to tell the most fascinating stories of her travels.” She planted her hands on her hips and tilted her head back to stare up at the ancient oak shading them. “So many different places and people and sights,” she murmured. “I want to write about them all. I do not want to stay here at the inn for the rest of my days.”
“If you marry, you would not be at the inn,” Tiffany pointed out, unhelpfully, she realized, when Bonnie turned a disbelieving look her way. She pushed herself upright. “Well, it is true. Marriage could allow you to travel—away from here at least, although I would miss you greatly.”
“Owning my own publishing house would allow me the same thing. I wouldhaveto travel all over Scotland, and beyond, searching for new submissions and authors. And then again to search out new avenues to sell the books.”
Would her husband allow such a thing? Tiffany couldn’t think of any man who would be?—
Luckily, before she could open her mouth to state such a thing, her brain caught up with her tongue, grabbed hold of it, and gave it a stern talking-to, reminding her Bonnie was saying she didn’tneeda husband, and maybe she should consider smiling and nodding instead.
Tiffany smiled tightly and nodded.
Well-done.
