He stood up and pressed his palms onto the edge of his desk.
“Give me a moment,” he said, excusing himself.
I’d seen Rosenbach do this countless times. He’d leave me sitting in the book room while he searched through his bountiful inventory in one of the many storerooms. He had an amazing memory of where everything was archived, but I’d been known to sit there by myself and wait while he lost track of time rummaging through his vast collection to find just the book I was looking for.
After nearly thirty minutes, he returned with the book.
“Here it is!” He sounded triumphant as he walked over and handed it to me.
“The illustrations really are quite beautiful.”
I opened it slowly, amused by how the text was accompanied by a series of colorful etchings of fairies with large, delicately drawn wings. The artist had also rendered many garden insects around the border of each leaf. Grasshoppers in verdant green, black beetles, and saffron-colored butterflies adorned each page. One could only imagine the delight this book had brought to a small child.
“I’d like to purchase it,” I told him. “How much?”
“Three dollars,” he said. “It will hardly break your coffers.”
“That’s welcome news,” I said and winked.
All kidding aside, I knew London would be setting me back substantially. While I did go into Philadelphia a few days a week to learn more about the family business and its holdings, I didn’t receive a salary. I lived off the monthly allowance I received from my trust.
Rosenbach’s expression now turned more serious in nature. “Shall we go over a few suggestions of mine while you’re there?” He rummaged through some papers on his desk. “I’ve made a list of books that I know Quaritch has recently purchased but not yet sold. If I’m correct, there might be some good finds to add to your library.”
“Quite so.” I leaned in excitedly. I was eager to tell him about the miniature Bacon. “They say theTitanic’s an unsinkable ship. So, I intend to load it with as many books as I can carry.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The sound of bells awakened Violet from a deep sleep. Every Sunday afternoon at exactly one o’clock, the bells rang out from Lowell’s tower. Seventeen bells originally from the St. Danilov Monastery in Moscow had been given to the house in 1930 as a gift from a distinguished alumnus, who saved them from being melted down by the Stalin regime. It was just one of the many features that made Lowell distinct from the other houses at Harvard. With its wide-open courtyard, its weekly teas, and its annual, elegant Winter Waltz, it was one of the most attractive spots to live on campus.
It was her freshman-year roommate, Sylvia, who had asked Violet if she wanted to join her and two other girls to room together sophomore year. Violet had never had a class with either Lara or Jenny and had barely hung out with them other than at the occasional party, before they all agreed to share a quad. She knew Lara was pre-med and Jenny played on the soccer team, but that was all she knew. In the end, their group housing number was high enough to get the four of them a suite in Lowell. And this year, their suite was even a little larger, with a common area that had windows overlooking the inner courtyard.
Despite never growing close with her other two suitemates the way she was with Sylvia, Violet was happy to be living in a dorm that had so much history. She loved imagining the famous alums that had passed through its doors and she appreciated its traditions, especially the pastries served at the weekly tea.
But this morning, the charm of Lowell’s bells ringing was not a plus for Violet. She pulled her pillow over her head trying to dampen the noise. She had hardly drank anything the night before at the Owl party, but her head was pounding.
As the chimes eventually dissipated, she pulled herself out of bed and got her toiletry caddy and towel to bring to the bathroom. Her eyes were puffy, her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. She hoped brushing her teeth and getting into a hot shower would perk her up.
She wiggled her feet into her flip-flops and opened the door to the common room. Lara and Jenny were sitting on the couch reading.
“Hey,” Lara said, looking up from her chemistry book. “We were wondering when you were going to wake up.”
“Long night…” Violet muttered. “I probably shouldn’t have slept this late. I have a paper due tomorrow.”
Lara reached for her coffee mug on the table. “Well, I heard the party last night was fun. Sorry I missed it. Auditions didn’t end until way past midnight.”
Violet knew how much work Lara had to do for the Lowell House Opera Company, and how prestigious it was for her to be one of the students in charge of making sure the oldest running opera company in New England ran smoothly. Its affiliation with the house was another tradition that made living in Lowell special.
“How’s opera practice going?” Violet couldn’t remember what they’d decided to put on. “Remind me. Is it Puccini this year?”
“Nope. Rossini!The Italian Girl in Algiers.” Lara’s excitement was palpable just mentioning it. “I think we found the perfect mezzo soprano last night.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Jenny said sarcastically, looking up from her magazine. “Does that mean you guys won’t be kicking us all out of the dining hall at seven o’clock when you need to rehearse?”
“Can’t promise that,” Lara said, laughing. “But it means we might get some good reviews in theBoston Globe.”
“That’s amazing.” Violet tried to sound excited, but the words only came out sounding flat. “I’d better shower,” she said, happy for an excuse to leave the room. “I’ll see you guys later.”
“Not if you stay in your room all the time,” Jenny replied.
