Set against the smoky, gaslit allure of Victorian London, this sweetly romantic historical debut is full of humor and stars a whip-smart female heroine ahead of her time.
Where one story ends, another begins.
1861. Miss Lucinda Leavitt is shocked when she learns the author of her favorite serialized novel has died before completing the story. Determined to learn how it ends, Lucinda reluctantly enlists the help of her father’s young business partner, Mr. David Randall, to track down the reclusive author’s former whereabouts.
David is a successful young businessman, but is overwhelmed by his workload. He wants to prove himself to his late father, as well as to himself. He doesn’t have the time, nor the interest, for this endeavor, but Lucinda is not the type to take no for an answer.
Their search for the elusive Mrs. Smith and the rightful ending to her novel leads Lucinda and David around the country, but the truths they discover about themselves—and each other—are anything but fictional.
Chosen by readers like you for Macmillan's young adult imprint Swoon Reads, The Last Word by debut author Samantha Hastings is a fun yet intellectual romp through Victorian London—the perfect book for book-lovers.
Praise for The Last Word:
A Junior Library Guild Selection
"Witty, spirited, and utterly swoon-worthy. ... Filled with fierce feminism, impeccable period detail, and a charming romance that's sure to stay with readers long after the last word." —Addie Thorley, author of An Affair of Poisons
“Great voice. Unique premise. … And who can resist a plucky heroine who is determined to help write an unfinished romance novel by her favorite author!” —B.R. Myers, author of Rogue Princess
Release date:
July 9, 2019
Publisher:
Feiwel & Friends
Print pages:
288
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Or, in other words, Miss Lucinda Leavitt was graduating from Miss Holley’s Finishing School for Young Ladies, where she’d spent four aggravating years reluctantly obtaining polish and female accomplishments. She looked down at her pink dress—it had more layers than a wedding cake. She hoped her father would find it pretty and see that she was all grown up now. That she was able to make decisions for herself.
Miss Holley, the plump proprietor, came into the sitting room with another woman, who was extremely thin with a long face framed by mousy-brown braids.
“Miss Holley, by chance has my father arrived yet?” Lucinda asked.
Miss Holley sniffed. “Miss Leavitt, do not be presumptuous. Your father is a very important businessman, and he has better things to do with his time than accompany you home from school.”
“Yes, ma’am, but I am to leave today. Will I be allowed to travel on the train to London alone?” Lucinda asked, unable to keep the excitement from her voice.
“Do not be fanciful, Miss Leavitt,” Miss Holley said, shaking her head. “Young ladies of quality must be chaperoned at all times for their safety and for their reputation. ‘For a lady’s reputation is—’”
“‘As fragile as a flower,’” Lucinda finished without enthusiasm.
“I am glad you learned something at my school, Miss Leavitt,” Miss Holley said. “Although not as much as I would have liked. But perhaps Mrs. Patton will be able to succeed where I have failed.”
“Mrs. Patton?”
Miss Holley touched her massive bosom and said, “Dear me, I should have introduced you at the first, Lavinia. Miss Leavitt, allow me to introduce your new lady’s companion, Mrs. Lavinia Patton. She is an old friend of mine.”
“Companion? I don’t need a companion,” Lucinda said, rising.
“Manners, Miss Leavitt, manners,” Miss Holley chided. “Your father has already hired Mrs. Patton upon my recommendation. She will introduce you to the best of society and help you become an elegant lady.”
Lucinda curtsied to the long-faced woman. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Patton. How long should I expect the pleasure of your company?”
Mrs. Patton bowed her head slightly. “Until you are married, dear girl. Which I should not think will be too long, given your face and fortune.”
“You forget her low birth … and that she is obstinate and headstrong, with a mind of her own,” Miss Holley said. “Still, if anyone can help Miss Leavitt to an advantageous match, it is you, Lavinia.”
But I don’t want to get married, Lucinda thought fiercely. I want to work in my father’s countinghouse.
* * *
Two weeks later, Lucinda bit her thumbnail in frustrated boredom.
Being an elegant lady is exceedingly dull work, she thought as she sat on the edge of her chair next to the window, waiting for the post to arrive. She had nothing else to do. It was too early in the day to make calls and too late in the day to lie in bed.
So she counted the carriages that passed the street in front of her house—thirty-two. She counted the people who walked by—forty-seven (twenty-three women and twenty-four men). She was about to count the bricks on the house across the street when the postman arrived. She jumped from her chair and ran to the door before the butler, Mr. Ruffles, could answer it. She flung open the door and startled the postman, who was opening the letter box.
“I’ll take those,” she said, reaching out her hand.
The postman touched his navy cap and bowed to her before handing her several letters and a small package.
“Thank you!” Lucinda said and shut the door. She turned to see Mr. Ruffles standing behind her. He bowed to her. He was shorter than Lucinda and had a square-shaped face and a mouth that never smiled.
“Here’s the post, Ruffles,” she said, handing him the stack of letters. They were all for her father anyway. She kept the small parcel clutched tightly in her white-knuckled hands, knowing exactly what it was. Lucinda skipped to the sitting room, where ladies sat … a lot. Her companion, Mrs. Patton, was already sleeping in a chair, snoring with her mouth open.
Lucinda quietly closed the door. She untied the twine and unwrapped the brown paper to reveal Wheathill’s Magazine, the May 1861 edition. Lucinda squealed silently and hopped up and down on the balls of her feet.
It was finally here!
She sat down on the sofa, flipped open the cover, and found the table of contents. The newest installment of She Knew She Was Right by Mrs. Smith began on page thirty-six. Lucinda turned the pages quickly until she reached the correct page. There was an illustration—a young lady dressed in a ball gown with a gentleman on each side. Both gentlemen held one arm outstretched toward her. The caption underneath read: Whom will she choose? The same question had been plaguing Lucinda since she read the April edition of the magazine. Now, a month later, her curiosity was at last to be satiated. After two years of reading the book published in serial form, she was finally going to read the ending.
Lucinda held her breath and began to read:
“My feelings are like a tangled web, Miss Emerson,” Lord Dunstan said as he clasped her delicate hand between his two large ones. “And only you can unravel them.”
Eurydice’s heart fluttered and her face flushed with color. Lord Dunstan was so very tall, dark, and handsome, with only a slight white scar underneath his left ear to disfigure his otherwise natural beauty.
“Lord Dunstan, I do believe you are flirting with me.”
“I am not flirting, my dear Miss Emerson,” he said. “I am completely in earnest. You alone hold all of my affections. All of my dreams and wishes for my future are tangled up around you.”
Could this be a declaration? Eurydice could hardly breathe. Her heart beat wildly. She looked down at her feet, for she was too embarrassed to look him in the eye.
“Miss Emerson, before I can beg you to be mine for all time, I must tell you the truth of my past.”
Eurydice was surprised enough by these words to look up into his dark, stormy eyes and hold her breath in terrible expectation.
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