“Mmm?” said Strange, who was eating hot rolls and preserves, and reading Curiose Observations upon the Anatomie of Faeries by Holgarth and Pickle.2

“Mary. The new maid. You saw her last night.”

“Ah,” said Strange, turning a page.

“She seems a nice, pleasant girl with quiet ways. I am sure we will be very happy with her. So, as I was saying, I would be very grateful, Jonathan, if you would call upon your aunt this morning. You can walk down to Henrietta-street after breakfast and thank her for Mary. Then you can come to Haig and Chippendale’s and wait for me there. Oh! And could you look in at Wedgwood and Byerley’s and ask the people when the new dinner-service will be ready? It will be scarcely any trouble. It is very nearly on your way.” She looked at him doubtfully. “Jonathan, are you listening to me?”

“Mmm?” said Strange, looking up. “Oh, entirely!”

So Arabella, attended by one of the footmen, walked to Wigmore-street where Flint and Clark had their establishment. But on this second viewing of the wine-coloured velvet she concluded that, though very handsome, it was altogether too sombre. So then she walked on, all anticipation, to St Martin’s-lane to behold the bronze-coloured silk. When she arrived at Haig and Chippendale’s she found the shopman waiting for her, but not her husband. The shopman was most apologetic but Mr Strange had not been there all morning.

She went out into the street again.

“George, do you see your master anywhere?” she asked the footman.

“No, madam.”

A grey rain was beginning to fall. A sort of premonition inspired her to look in at the window of a bookseller’s. There she discovered Strange, talking energetically to Sir Walter Pole. So she went into the shop, bid Sir Walter good morning and sweetly inquired of her husband if he had visited his aunt or looked in at Wedgwood and Byerley’s.

Strange seemed somewhat perplexed by the question. He looked down and discovered that he had a large book in his hand. He frowned at it as if he could not imagine how it had got there. “I would have done so, my love, of course,” he said, “only Sir Walter has been talking to me all this while which has quite prevented me from beginning.”

“It has been entirely my fault,” Sir Walter hastily assured Arabella. “We have a problem with our blockade. It is the usual sort of thing and I have been telling Mr Strange about it in the hope he and Mr Norrell will be able to help us.”

“And can you help?” asked Arabella.

“Oh, I should think so,” said Strange.