Read Online Grave Matters by Margaret Yorke - Free Book Online Page B

he knew of in the little town. He successfully expelled from his mind all dark thoughts about Ellen’s earlier meeting with David Bruce; it was wholly innocent and accidental, he decided.
    When they got back to Mulberry Cottage, Ellen made coffee and they settled down to the books. Patrick had a list of twenty titles which Bernard Wilson wanted, including the Burmanns. More would be wanted by the college and by other classicists once Bernard had picked the best for himself, and they had decided the fairest method of pricing them was to enlist the help of a specialist antiquarian bookseller.
    ‘But your aunt might like to get her own expert,’ Patrick said.
    ‘I’m quite certain she trusts you and the librarian of St. Mark’s not to do her down,’ said Ellen demurely.
    They packed the books into two large cardboard boxes which Bernard had provided. Patrick looked round the shelves.
    ‘It’s a marvellous sight, isn’t it? A room full of books,’ he said.
    ‘Yes, if one could only read them,’ said Ellen ruefully. She pulled one at random from the shelves and looked inside, made a face and put it back. ‘I suppose you can read them all,’ she said.
    ‘I can’t. With enormous difficulty I might make out the Latin, but not the Greek,’ he said.
    ‘What’s your subject, then? I somehow thought it must be classics, because you were in Athens I suppose,’ she said.
    She knew nothing about him. Only his name. His spirits plunged once more. They had talked about Rupert Brooke, and she hadn’t made the mental connection when he talked about his pupils. But why should she, after all, he thought dismally.
    ‘English,’ he said. ‘I’m particularly interested in Shakespeare.’ As she had done, he now plucked a book from the shelves without looking at it and turned the pages over. He wanted to avoid looking at her for a moment.
    ‘He knew it all, didn’t he,’ said Ellen. ‘About people I mean. How they behave. Power, and all that, and jealousy. Things haven’t really changed a great deal.’
    ‘No, they haven’t,’ Patrick said. He reached to put the book back, since now they were to talk. It was a volume of Cicero’s Orations, the blue-bound Oxford edition, Volume IV. ‘Hullo, that’s odd,’ he said, pausing with his hand on the space from which he had taken the book.
    ‘What is?’
    ‘I thought that set was complete. Cicero’s Orations in six volumes. Volume five doesn’t seem to be here.’
    ‘Is it on Milly’s list? Let me look.’
    Ellen took the list from the floor in front of him. They were both sitting on the carpet with their empty coffee cups beside them. As she moved, a strand of her hair brushed against his face.
    ‘”Cicero: Orations, six volumes,”’ Ellen read. ‘And see, she’s noted that the Letters are three volumes in four parts, volume two in two parts. She’s been very thorough.’
    ‘She’d have noticed if volume five was missing?’
    ‘I’m sure she would have. Maybe it’s slipped down the back somewhere.’ Ellen pulled out several of the books and looked about, but there was no sign of it. ‘How very strange,’ she said.
    ‘It’ll turn up, I expect,’ Patrick said. ‘Maybe it got replaced wrongly. I’ll make a little note so that we find it later.’
    He wrote in the margin of the list.
    ‘This looks a rather ordinary, unglamorous sort of edition, compared with most of Amelia’s books,’ Ellen said, surveying them.
    ‘It’s a good working set. I’d have expected your great-aunt to have the Teubners – she did, here they are. But they’re old and much used. Probably she lent these to pupils, these newer ones,’ he said. ‘She wouldn’t risk her more precious ones.’
    ‘You’re right, I expect,’ Ellen said.
    ‘I’m sure we’ll want the Teubners,’ Patrick said. ‘What I’m taking now is only a first bite.’
    ‘You’ll want to come down again, when you’ve had more time to consult with your friends,’ Ellen said.
    ‘If I may,’