James eagerly joined the toast.
“Hear, hear,” he said.
Eleanor lifted her own glass, smiling.
“To scholarship,” she said.
Shy Sophia raised her glass a little hesitantly.
“And to shared purpose,” she said softly.
As glasses were lifted and voices rang in polite toasts, Catherine met Marcus’s eyes across the candlelit table. He did not smile, but there was something a recognition and a shared sense of triumph.
This evening had only just begun, but already Catherine felt the first assurance that together, they were equal to the task.
Henry sat at the far end of the table, near one of the tall candelabras, the soft flicker of which illuminated the faint threadbare edge of his jacket cuff. Despite his quiet manner, every time he spoke, the room hushed.
“I once discovered a fragment of Roman tilework buried near the churchyard in Little Hartcombe,” he said, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of his water glass. “The tesserae formed a pattern remarkably similar to those found in the villas of the Cotswolds. Perhaps a local artisan trained under Roman influence.”
William leaned forward.
“Did you document it?” he asked.
The reverend nodded.
“In my journal, yes,” he said. “And I drew a rough sketch. I submitted the record to the Antiquarian Society some years past, though I doubt it held their attention for long.”
William gave him a look of sophisticated awe.
“That speaks to a thoroughness many trained men overlook,” he said. “You must share the details with us while you are here.”
Henry offered a self-effacing smile and dipped his head in acknowledgement.
“I would be honoured,” he said.
Catherine sipped from her wine glass, allowing her gaze to drift down the table. Henry’s modesty was striking and so different from the carefully honed polish displayed by men like Harold. The older gentleman, seated beside Sophia, had just turned a deft conversational thread toward Roman engineering.
“We marvel at aqueducts, but I find the genius of their infrastructure lies in small innovations,” Harold said. “Lead piping, for instance. Ingenious for their time, though not without its dangers.”
James held up a finger as a thought struck him.
“Did you see the fragment near the Bath site last year?” he asked. “The one with the markings along the interior rim?”
Harold nodded.
“A brilliant find,” he said. “It confirmed theories I held for years.”
Catherine noticed Edmund watching Harold, but not with admiration. Edmund’s fork rested untouched beside his plate, his posture tense.
“Edmund,” she said, trying to include him in the conversation. “Have you visited the Bath site yourself?”
He blinked, startled, then nodded.
“Once,” he said. “Briefly. The soil preservation techniques they use there are impressive.”
Beatrice looked up from her meal, intrigued.
“Your study on subterranean damp conditions was referenced in the Society’s quarterly,” she said across the table. “I found it most helpful in adjusting storage recommendations at our local museum.”
