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Authors: Peter Ackroyd
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Come down!’
“‘Mr. Strafford never comes no more.’
“‘I beg your pardon?’ Mrs. Strafford had been about to climb the staircase, but she turned back.
“‘He ain’t bin ’ere for eight months or more. I ain’t bin paid for two months neither.’
“‘You are the housekeeper, are you?’
“‘I was, but I ain’t bin paid.’
“‘We will attend to that.’ I could see that Mrs. Strafford was not a woman for delay. ‘How much did my husband owe you?’
“If she was at all surprised by the sudden appearance of Mrs. Strafford, she did not show it. ‘Sixty shillin’s. Seven and six per week.’
“‘You don’t mind paper money, I take it?’ She took three pound notes from her purse. ‘It is as good as metal.’
“There was some further conversation between them but I was curious to discover what, if anything, lay behind the doors of this old house. I love the evidence of the past, Miss Lamb. There was a back room, just beyond the staircase; as soon as I entered I sensed the faint odour of old papers, as refreshing to me as any herb or plant. What is the sweetness of flowers compared to the savour of dust and confinement? There was a large wooden bureau in a corner of the room; I opened it and discovered piles of documents folded, tied, or laid down in single sheets.
“Mrs. Strafford came up suddenly behind me. ‘What is this? More papers? Oh Lord, my husband was drowning in papers.’
“‘They may be all over this house. What can I do—’
“‘What can you do with them? You can keep them, Mr. Ireland. You found the house for me. You may have its papers.’
“I reflected for a moment, and found myself looking out through a grimy window at a small paved courtyard. ‘No. That is not just. Let us put it differently. If I find anything that is of value to me, but not to you, then I may keep it.’
“‘Agreed.’
“‘As easily as that?’
“‘It is easy to give away what I never possessed. Here are the housekeeper’s keys, Mr. Ireland. When you have finished your work, the house will be sold.’
“I came back to Knightrider Street on the following morning, with the excuse to my father that I was examining a gentleman’s library in Bow Lane. As I said to you, I wished this to be my own adventure. I began at the top of the house, and inspected each room thoroughly. The house was for the most part bare of furniture, except for a small room that the ancient housekeeper had occupied, but there were several chests and cases in which I found more documents. It was clear to me now that Mr. Strafford had been an inveterate and eager collector of manuscripts; there were bills of mortality, actors’ parts written on long scrolls, diplomatic correspondence and even folio pages from an illuminated Bible. Do tell me if I am boring you, Miss Lamb. It was on the second morning, however, that I discovered the deed that contained the signature of William Shakespeare. The deed my father has just shown to you. I had not noticed the name at first, and had put the document to one side with some other deeds. Yet something must have caught my attention. It may have been no more than the proximity of the ‘W’ and the ‘Sh.’ I picked up the page again and, an hour later, I was conveying it back to the bookshop. It was the perfect gift for my father. But then, just yesterday, I also found the seal.”
“Does the woman know of the seal?” Mary had listened in profound silence to his story, but was now very curious.
“Mrs. Strafford? Oh yes. But she does not value it. She is not in the least interested in Shakespeare. She lacks our—enthusiasm.”
“Her husband did not.”
“I am not yet sure whether he collected these things out of deliberation, or whether he amassed material injudiciously. I still have to search many boxes and cases. I felt obliged to tell my father about Strafford’s papers, but I have given him no details. He would be indiscreet. I know him.”
“I envy
“‘Mr. Strafford never comes no more.’
“‘I beg your pardon?’ Mrs. Strafford had been about to climb the staircase, but she turned back.
“‘He ain’t bin ’ere for eight months or more. I ain’t bin paid for two months neither.’
“‘You are the housekeeper, are you?’
“‘I was, but I ain’t bin paid.’
“‘We will attend to that.’ I could see that Mrs. Strafford was not a woman for delay. ‘How much did my husband owe you?’
“If she was at all surprised by the sudden appearance of Mrs. Strafford, she did not show it. ‘Sixty shillin’s. Seven and six per week.’
“‘You don’t mind paper money, I take it?’ She took three pound notes from her purse. ‘It is as good as metal.’
“There was some further conversation between them but I was curious to discover what, if anything, lay behind the doors of this old house. I love the evidence of the past, Miss Lamb. There was a back room, just beyond the staircase; as soon as I entered I sensed the faint odour of old papers, as refreshing to me as any herb or plant. What is the sweetness of flowers compared to the savour of dust and confinement? There was a large wooden bureau in a corner of the room; I opened it and discovered piles of documents folded, tied, or laid down in single sheets.
“Mrs. Strafford came up suddenly behind me. ‘What is this? More papers? Oh Lord, my husband was drowning in papers.’
“‘They may be all over this house. What can I do—’
“‘What can you do with them? You can keep them, Mr. Ireland. You found the house for me. You may have its papers.’
“I reflected for a moment, and found myself looking out through a grimy window at a small paved courtyard. ‘No. That is not just. Let us put it differently. If I find anything that is of value to me, but not to you, then I may keep it.’
“‘Agreed.’
“‘As easily as that?’
“‘It is easy to give away what I never possessed. Here are the housekeeper’s keys, Mr. Ireland. When you have finished your work, the house will be sold.’
“I came back to Knightrider Street on the following morning, with the excuse to my father that I was examining a gentleman’s library in Bow Lane. As I said to you, I wished this to be my own adventure. I began at the top of the house, and inspected each room thoroughly. The house was for the most part bare of furniture, except for a small room that the ancient housekeeper had occupied, but there were several chests and cases in which I found more documents. It was clear to me now that Mr. Strafford had been an inveterate and eager collector of manuscripts; there were bills of mortality, actors’ parts written on long scrolls, diplomatic correspondence and even folio pages from an illuminated Bible. Do tell me if I am boring you, Miss Lamb. It was on the second morning, however, that I discovered the deed that contained the signature of William Shakespeare. The deed my father has just shown to you. I had not noticed the name at first, and had put the document to one side with some other deeds. Yet something must have caught my attention. It may have been no more than the proximity of the ‘W’ and the ‘Sh.’ I picked up the page again and, an hour later, I was conveying it back to the bookshop. It was the perfect gift for my father. But then, just yesterday, I also found the seal.”
“Does the woman know of the seal?” Mary had listened in profound silence to his story, but was now very curious.
“Mrs. Strafford? Oh yes. But she does not value it. She is not in the least interested in Shakespeare. She lacks our—enthusiasm.”
“Her husband did not.”
“I am not yet sure whether he collected these things out of deliberation, or whether he amassed material injudiciously. I still have to search many boxes and cases. I felt obliged to tell my father about Strafford’s papers, but I have given him no details. He would be indiscreet. I know him.”
“I envy
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