I announced.
“To Bacon.” She lifted her flute of champagne.
Our glasses clinked together, and we gazed at each other as the bubbles moved through us.
“Ada,” I said her name as I put down my glass.
“Yes?”
I hadn’t intended to ask her anything. I simply wanted to say her name, to have it fall from my lips. It sounded like music. It sounded beautiful. That was the magic of speaking something you love aloud.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ADA LEFT FORLONDON THE FOLLOWING DAY.IHADextended my time in Manhattan to ensure I could properly see her off.
At the pier in Chelsea, the weather was frigid. Dressed in a navy wool suit, a large brimmed hat, an amethyst capelet cast over her shoulders, we said our good-byes near the second-class gangplank.
“I will see you again in a few short weeks in London,” I told her. “I’m looking forward to seeing what books you have in store for me.”
“It will be my pleasure,” she said.
What we didn’t say, because it would have gone against every social rule of the Edwardian era, was that we both felt some invisible thread connecting us to each other.
I let the unspoken surround us as the steamship sounded its call.
In my mind’s eye, I imagined myself leaning toward her and kissing her. But, instead, I only smiled and politely tipped my hat as she prepared to board.
“I’ll see you in March,” I said stiffly. But inside, all I was thinking was that I wished she would not leave.
She turned one last time as she stepped onto the gangplank, saying the words that made me happiest.
“Mr. Widener, don’t forget to write to me!”
In my Pullman car back to Philadelphia that evening, I wrote to Ada at once. Her journey on the boat to England would take approximately seven days. My letter would take the same amount of time. I was determined that it would be there, waiting for her when she arrived.
February, 12, 1912
Lynnewood Hall
Elkins Park, PA
Dear Miss Lippoldt,
I hope by the time this letter reaches you, you’ve returned safely to London and that you’re warmly ensconced in your office at Quaritch’s. It was a privilege to spend time with you in New York, and I will always be grateful that you gave me a second chance to take you to dinner after the snow delayed my train.
Without being too bold, I feel I must tell you how much I enjoyed meeting someone who loves books as much as I do and who is also so spirited!
Dickinson must have been looking into the future when she used the word “phosphorescent” as there is no one I believe embodies that word as fully as you.
On a side note, I’ve been thinking about the Bacon you mentioned over our last meal together. There were two editions available at the Huth sale and I sadly didn’t bid on either. Did Mr. Quaritch bid on both lots and, if so, is the miniature one still available? You’ve piqued myinterest and I can’t help thinking the rare pocket-size one might be another good addition for my library if that wasn’t the one already snatched up by another collector.
Do let me know as soon as you can. I must confess, in the spirit of Bacon’s words, my appetite to acquire it has become stronger since we parted.
With fondest regards,
Harry E. Widener
Two weeks later, her letter arrived at Lynnewood Hall.
