who is not her brother?” Mrs. Thompson shook her head. “It’s not the done thing.”
Her husband set his book down. “Is it really so terrible, Helena? Surely it isn’t any worse than two cousins visiting a museum together.”
“But they are not cousins, dear husband.”
“And yet we know and trust his father so well, they might as well be. I’ve never known you to be this old-fashioned! They are merely going to a museum.”
“What would my sister say?” Mrs. Thompson arched an eyebrow for emphasis.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” Mr. Thompson said, “but your sister is a fusspot. I did not agree to have your niece here so that shecould be locked within our walls until we have a spare moment to chaperone her outings.”
“I suppose it would be nice for our guest to have company as he explores all that Cambridge has to offer,” Mrs. Thompson relented, looking at Asher.
He smiled in reply.
“It’s settled, then,” said Mr. Thompson, opening his book once more. “That is, I assume it is amenable to Mr. Beale?”
“Of course, sir.” Asher knew better than to meet Miss Atherton’s gaze. Nor would he glance at Kate Poole, for he could almost sense the sly look she must be giving him. Instead he pretended to study his book most carefully, all the while rehearsing the clever things he would say to Miss Atherton the next day.
Chapter 8
“M iss Poole, I have an early appointment this morning and must let you into the library before Miss Freeman and Miss Barrett arrive. Does this suit you?”
Kate glanced at Mrs. Thompson over her teacup. “You trust me with the books? All alone?”
“I highly doubt you would run away with them.” Mrs. Thompson’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “They are of little value to anyone but scholars. Furthermore, I’m certain there’s nothing in our collection that would be inappropriate for a young lady to read.”
A young lady? Kate squirmed with pleasure to be termed such. “Of course, ma’am. I will unpack books until the lady scholars arrive.”
As she entered the building, it occurred to her that no one had ordered the unpacking to commence immediately . With that in mind, the first thing she did once Mrs. Thompson left her alone was to survey the stacks of periodicals.
The Summerfield newspaper collection consisted of bound volumes of two London papers dating back to 1880. She also found stacks of unbound copies of the local paper, but theywere sloppily folded and mostly out of order. It would take ages to get them all sorted. She turned back to the stacks of London papers. The Daily News appeared to be a smaller publication, quicker to search, so she pulled out the appropriate volume and paged her way to June 1, 1898.
No mention of Frederic Stanton.
She found nothing listed in the following day’s paper, either. In fact, she didn’t find his name in the obituaries until the June 7 edition.
STANTON. — June 1, at Brighton, F. Stanton, late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, age 43 .
Kate stared at the words until they blurred on the page. How could that be all? She chewed her lip for a moment, then returned to the stacks of bound periodicals. The only other choice was The Times , and these copies were bound in wide volumes with bright red covers. She scanned the spines and heaved the appropriate volume to the floor next to The Daily News . This time she knew better than to expect the obituary to be printed the very day her father died. She turned pages quickly, and her heart leapt when she found a full paragraph.
We regret to announce the sudden death, by misadventure, of Mr. Frederic Stanton, joint secretary of the Metaphysical Research Society. Mr. Stanton, who was born in 1855, was the son of the Rev. Trevor Stanton, late Rector of Marylebone. He received his education at Trinity College, Cambridge, of which college he became a Fellow, after taking his degree in Classics in 1878. Mr. Stanton was the principal author of The Metaphysical Mind. He died
Her husband set his book down. “Is it really so terrible, Helena? Surely it isn’t any worse than two cousins visiting a museum together.”
“But they are not cousins, dear husband.”
“And yet we know and trust his father so well, they might as well be. I’ve never known you to be this old-fashioned! They are merely going to a museum.”
“What would my sister say?” Mrs. Thompson arched an eyebrow for emphasis.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” Mr. Thompson said, “but your sister is a fusspot. I did not agree to have your niece here so that shecould be locked within our walls until we have a spare moment to chaperone her outings.”
“I suppose it would be nice for our guest to have company as he explores all that Cambridge has to offer,” Mrs. Thompson relented, looking at Asher.
He smiled in reply.
“It’s settled, then,” said Mr. Thompson, opening his book once more. “That is, I assume it is amenable to Mr. Beale?”
“Of course, sir.” Asher knew better than to meet Miss Atherton’s gaze. Nor would he glance at Kate Poole, for he could almost sense the sly look she must be giving him. Instead he pretended to study his book most carefully, all the while rehearsing the clever things he would say to Miss Atherton the next day.
Chapter 8
“M iss Poole, I have an early appointment this morning and must let you into the library before Miss Freeman and Miss Barrett arrive. Does this suit you?”
Kate glanced at Mrs. Thompson over her teacup. “You trust me with the books? All alone?”
“I highly doubt you would run away with them.” Mrs. Thompson’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “They are of little value to anyone but scholars. Furthermore, I’m certain there’s nothing in our collection that would be inappropriate for a young lady to read.”
A young lady? Kate squirmed with pleasure to be termed such. “Of course, ma’am. I will unpack books until the lady scholars arrive.”
As she entered the building, it occurred to her that no one had ordered the unpacking to commence immediately . With that in mind, the first thing she did once Mrs. Thompson left her alone was to survey the stacks of periodicals.
The Summerfield newspaper collection consisted of bound volumes of two London papers dating back to 1880. She also found stacks of unbound copies of the local paper, but theywere sloppily folded and mostly out of order. It would take ages to get them all sorted. She turned back to the stacks of London papers. The Daily News appeared to be a smaller publication, quicker to search, so she pulled out the appropriate volume and paged her way to June 1, 1898.
No mention of Frederic Stanton.
She found nothing listed in the following day’s paper, either. In fact, she didn’t find his name in the obituaries until the June 7 edition.
STANTON. — June 1, at Brighton, F. Stanton, late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, age 43 .
Kate stared at the words until they blurred on the page. How could that be all? She chewed her lip for a moment, then returned to the stacks of bound periodicals. The only other choice was The Times , and these copies were bound in wide volumes with bright red covers. She scanned the spines and heaved the appropriate volume to the floor next to The Daily News . This time she knew better than to expect the obituary to be printed the very day her father died. She turned pages quickly, and her heart leapt when she found a full paragraph.
We regret to announce the sudden death, by misadventure, of Mr. Frederic Stanton, joint secretary of the Metaphysical Research Society. Mr. Stanton, who was born in 1855, was the son of the Rev. Trevor Stanton, late Rector of Marylebone. He received his education at Trinity College, Cambridge, of which college he became a Fellow, after taking his degree in Classics in 1878. Mr. Stanton was the principal author of The Metaphysical Mind. He died
Similar Books
