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For this reason alone, I’m doubtful it’s somewhere I’ll even want to attend. Especially since their deadline justhasto come half a year earlier than literally every other university, purely because they’resospecial. At least seeing the university for real will make up my mind.
Almost thirty minutes pass in the time it takes me to pack an overnight bag. I sigh, wondering if Dr. Moncrieff has really written anything about me in the last half an hour. Maybe he’s just shrugged off the task instead, left the library for fun because of the way I spoke to him after politics that one time. Two times. Okay, maybe a few.
It’s humbling, I guess, asking for someone’s help when you previously considered them an unthinkable prospect. But times are tough and, as much as Rory insists, I really doubt St. Camford will pay much attention to a reference from the guy who’s licked me to orgasm on multiple occasions.
By the time I reach the library, I’m breathless from all my rushing around the castle. I’m carrying a heavy rucksack over my shoulder, filled with my belongings for the trip, and the strap almost knocks the crown badge on my blazer onto the floor.
Dr. Moncrieff, to my relief, has not fled the library for fun or out of spite. He sits in the same spot, poring over the sheet of paper I’d given him, surrounded by his fortress of rare old texts. His fingers caress his chin thoughtfully as he reads what looks like — my stomach flips — his particularly lengthy statement about me, and he lifts his pen to write something extra.
When he notices me in his periphery, he turns his head to the side with a smile. “You’re leaving for St. Camford’s?”
I nod, trying to translate the diagonal scrawl of his writing.
“My alma mater. The bounteous mother.” Of course. It’s one of the first things I ever learned about him — that St. Camford is where he studied and taught for a spell. “St. Camford could be good for you.” Looking pleased, he offers me his reference, and I take it with hesitant hands. Dr. Moncrieff nods as though to give me permission to read it in front of him.
Ms. Weir has proved herself over the years to be a hard worker with a positive disposition. She has overcome obstacles at great personal cost. Arriving at Lochkelvin Academy with a tremendously different and significantly more modest background from her student cohort, it is no surprise that she initially struggled to adapt to life away from home. However, she has used her resources diligently to increase her confidence in classwork, and as a consequence has developed a natural aptitude and talent for independent thought.
Her skills and knowledge improve with every lesson I teach, and I look forward to engaging with her growing erudition. What parts of the subject she does not grasp now, I have no doubt she will learn in time. It is her tenacity, spirit and charm that will elevate Ms. Weir beyond the teachings of Lochkelvin. Whether she is aware of it or not, her willingness to speak her mind will make her a formidable prospect for any lecture hall. With additional scholarship, it is my consideration that in years to come, Ms. Weir will be the stand-out star of this year’s class.
Dr. Tobias Moncrieff MSc/PgDip (Cantaf)
I stare at the reference in awe, trying to stop my eyes from watering. It’s a reference forme. To know that this is what Dr. Moncrieff thinks about me when he sees me, for him to believe that I carry such tremendous potential… I’m in shock.
Dr. Moncrieff awaits my opinion but I can’t seem to form any words — clearly he was wrong about my natural aptitude for speaking my mind.
“Sorry,” I mutter hastily. “I’m still struggling with the fact that your name is Tobias.” His laughter is big and bold and filled with good humor. “It’s… it’snice.”
“Again with the surprised tone?” he asks, bringing to mind the time he complimented my essay. “Besides,” he adds dryly, “I’m required to say nice things otherwise people become very unhappy and I end up getting sued.”
I’m not sure if this is some kind of joke. It’s not like I have the means to sue anyone. But I can imagine the elite of Lochkelvin throwing a tantrum if their darling children aren’t aggressively doted upon.
I meet his gaze and, with full and warm sincerity, tell Dr. Moncrieff, “Thank you.” There’s not much else I’m able to say when his praise still has me stunned.
His smile is broad enough for crinkles to appear beside his eyes. His glance lingers on my rucksack. He nods at me once and murmurs meaningfully, “Good luck, Ms. Weir.”
