“You believe it was reused?” he asked.
Henry nodded.
“I cannot say for certain, of course,” he said. “But the wear pattern suggests successive use—possibly as a hinge bracket after its original function.”
Beatrice, seated nearby with a Roman domestic ledger, raised her brows in quiet approval.
“That would align with the layered habitation theories we discussed at breakfast,” she said.
Catherine felt a small ripple of pride. Henry’s manner remained self-effacing, yet his observations consistently pushed conversations forward.
“He has an unusual instinct for context,” Eleanor said as she passed. “One might believe he had formal training.”
Catherine smiled.
“I suspect long hours alone with parish records provide more archaeological insight than one might guess,” she said.
Near the shelves of translated classical texts, Harold had joined William and Sophia. His stance was easy, his voice pitched in a mellow register that invited others to speak at length. Catherine lingered at the edge of the room, adjusting a vase of early roses and pretending to study the fireplace lintel, though her ears remained keen.
“…and in your experience, Miss Whitmore,” Harold was saying, “how frequently have you encountered… shall we say… embellished catalogue entries in private collections?”
Sophia glanced at Charles, who continued arranging their sketches with precise hands.
“Often enough to be wary,” she said crisply. “My brother and I make it a rule to confirm the provenance ourselves. Reliance upon others’ attestations can prove unreliable, particularly where households are less exact in their oversight.”
Harold inclined his head as though in agreement.
“Quite so. Records may be shaped to flatter fashion—or to serve gain. One must tread carefully to distinguish honest error from deliberate misdirection.”
Catherine tucked the roses back into place, her hands steady while her attention pricked.
“And what is your view of the bone comb from the Mereford dig?” Harold asked, lowering his voice as if inviting confidence. “The one with the knotwork along its edge?”
William raised a finger.
“I believe it sound,” he said. “Domestic objects often bear Celtic patterns, adapted for Roman use. There is precedent enough in Britannia.”
Harold’s expression betrayed nothing, but his reply came softer still.
“Interesting,” he said. “Similar pieces have been surfacing in private sales—always with much the same workmanship. Such coincidences make one wonder whether their origin lies more in recent workshops than in ancient soil.”
Sophia frowned faintly, though she did not answer.
Catherine’s gaze sought Rosalind across the room. Her cousin caught the look, hesitated, then turned deliberately to Eleanor with a question about ink suppliers.
Harold continued on with measured civility, but Catherine felt the weight beneath his courtesy. His questions were not casual; they sifted, tested, gathered. There was a design to them she could not name.
She returned at last to her chair by the hearth, pen in hand, but her ledger remained untouched. Linen tallies and kitchen accounts blurred into irrelevance. Something quieter was unfolding in the library, some contest not of manners but of knowledge. Its rules were unspoken, its aim uncertain.
And Marcus, intent on the order of his papers, had not marked it at all.
***
Alexander stood with his arms loosely folded behind his back, positioned near the edge of the main worktable. From this vantage, he could observe the rhythm of the gathering without intruding. Marcus had begun his lecture on Roman Britain nearly an hour ago, yet his energy had not waned. His voice, steady and precise, carried easily across the library.
“…we find that civic patterns established during the early Flavian occupation endure well into the Severan period,” Marcus said, gesturing toward a map pinned to the east wall. “Despite shifts in imperial administration, localised customs persisted with remarkable resilience.”
Beside him, Catherine moved with quiet assurance, sorting trays of artefacts and unrolling prepared scrolls of provenance details. She handed one to Sophia without pause, then passed another to James as he requested confirmation regarding a fragment’s original dig site.
