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Sometimes, late at night, Lucy was plagued by fears that she might get hurt at the end of all of this. She knew, too, that Silas was not Edward. He was a gentleman of his word. Dinah had promised her as much all of the way back during the summer. And Dinah’s approbation was something Lucy could depend on.
They arrived at the library, which was in an imposing brick building that Lucy had passed often but never been inside of. As soon as they entered, Lucy gasped. Overhead, there was a great glass cupola, which allowed natural light to spill over the interior.
It was filled with row upon row of high wooden shelves, which went from the floor to the ceiling. And they were all full of books. There was a sturdy wooden ladder, which had wheels on the bottom so that one could move it, to reach the books that were higher up.
The second floor was open to the first. Even this was floor-to-ceiling shelves. Lucy looked all around her, seeing row upon row of books, two storeys high. It was one of the most beautiful sights that she had ever beheld in all of her four-and-twenty years.
She glanced back at Aunt Joan, who beamed. She had her hands folded as she watched Lucy.
“Imagine how long it would take you to read all of these, my dear,” she said. She turned to Silas. “You certainly know the way to Lucy’s heart, Lord Thornbridge.”
“I had suspected as much,” he replied, winking at Lucy. For Aunt Joan didn’t know about their first kiss in the library. Of course, Silas knew. He had planned to take her here for that very reason; she could see it in his eyes. Places with books in them were sacred to them.
“I don’t know where to begin,” she murmured, drinking in the sight of all of the books. He led her over to the shelves.
“What sort of book are you interested in?” he asked. “You may choose as many as you’d like,” he went on. “And you as well, Miss Wilds.”
“I am going to go and find out if they have any copies of Miss Radcliffe’s novels,” Aunt Joan announced, and made her way towards the shelves.
“I had no idea your aunt favoured mysteries,” Silas said.
“She does, ever since she readThe Mysteries of Udolphomany years ago. She’s been meaning to buy her very own copy of it ever since.”
Lucy sighed happily as they meandered through the shelves. She had never felt so rejuvenated. She could have just walked around, looking at all of the books, for hours. She inhaled the scent of paper, ink, and leather. It was just as good as going to the art museum.
“So, I know that you like Defoe,” he said, prompting her to talk more about her tastes. She was gratified by his attention.
“Of late, I’ve started to read Wordsworth,” she told him. “As well as Coleridge.” She and Aunt Joan could afford the little penny chapbooks that were on sale at the bookstore.
“Poets?” He raised his eyebrow quizzically.
“Yes,” she said. “Ever since you recommended Scott, I’ve been finding out my tastes in verse. And they so help with painting. I’ve made some interesting sketches based upon what I’ve read.”
“I myself have been reading more novels,” he replied. “I borrowed Dinah’s copy ofRobinson Crusoe.”
She beamed at him. He had been thinking of her, just as she had been thinking of him.
“Then you should try Swift.”
“And you should try Alexander Pope.”
They grinned at each other and continued discussing books and their tastes as they made their way through the shelves. They both left with a small stack of books each, which Silas checked out for them.
Aunt Joan had found one of Miss Radcliffe’s novels to read, and then they all walked back to the little house on Harley Street. When they arrived, Silas pulled out the loan slip from the library. As he did, a paper fell from his breast pocket.
Lucy picked it up, seeing that it was a listing of coordinates. She knew what they were, though she didn’t know how to figure out where they led.
“What’s this?” she asked, curious to know what it was for.
“Oh, I’d forgotten all about that.” He took it back, though he paused, frowning at it.
“What are they for?” she asked.
“Dinah found that in with my father’s papers,” he said. “They’re for a location out in the country, very near to Thornbridge Manor. I don’t know what’s there, though.”
“You should go and find out.” Lucy’s curiosity had been whetted. She was eager to find out what was there.
“I want to,” he remarked, “but I’m needed here in London, and must put it off for the moment. My father was always enamoured with treasure hunting… He loved stories about men discovering ancient secrets, buried in the earth.” He sighed, the smallest hint of a smile coming to his lips. “Years ago, he arranged treasure hunts for us, his children, for fun.”
