Birdie turned and gasped.
This was a library. Heavy oaken bookshelves with gothic woodwork lined the walls. Thousands of books spilled out of the shelves in a disorderly fashion. Books were stacked on the ground, strewn on the table. She took a few steps and stumbled over a pile. It looked like someone had collected all the books in Scotland and crammed them into this room without any rhyme or reason. A portrait of a sour-looking man with a wig, eagle-like nose, and piercing eyes hung over the massive fireplace. The old duke, no doubt. Birdie pulled a face. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and a white veil of dust covered the books.
Birdie ran a finger over a shelf and inspected the thick layer of white powder on her finger. She sneezed.
“This needs some desperate cleaning,” she mumbled. She bent down to pick up a pile of books when she noticed something strange. As dusty as this entire library was, one shelf to the right of the fireplace was clean and polished. A path cleared of books led right to it. But what was even odder was the arrangement of the bookshelves. Why were there additional bookshelves haphazardly set up in the middle of the room? It served neither a functional nor aesthetic purpose. If one were to move this shelf so it stood perpendicular to the adjacent wall, and get rid of the other one, which seemed to be placed at random and appeared half-empty, it would allow for more light in the room. And it wouldn’t be so cluttered.
“Sometimes less is better,” Birdie decided.
Birdie eyed the half-empty bookshelf. It should be easy to move. She took all the books out, set them on the floor, and gave it a push.
Her assessment had been correct, and she could, with some force, move the shelf right through the door into the hall.
She surveyed her work, satisfied. Maybe Higgins needed an additional bookshelf somewhere? One could move it to the kitchen to use for storing jars of preserved fruit.
Now, to the second shelf. Emboldened by her success, she gave the shelf a push. Except this one was heavier, and it still wouldn’t move even after she had taken out the books. It moved an inch, then snagged on the carpet, which folded up and stopped any further movement.
Birdie pushed harder.
With a growl, she gave it a final push. The shelf wobbled and wobbled some more.
“Oh no. Oh, no, you don’t!” Birdie tried to stem against it from the other side, but it had gathered momentum and crashed with tremendous force to the ground.
It sounded like an explosion.
The ground shook. The chandelier clanked.
Birdie clasped both hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut for good measure.
When she pried one eye open, she saw the entire library floor splattered with books. And the shelf had broken in half.
Running footsteps sounded in the hall.
“What the devil is going on?” a voice roared.
Gabriel’s hair stuck in all directions, his dark eye flashed, and the side of his face that wasn’t too handsome looked devastating when daylight shone directly on it. He truly looked like the Beast of Dunross castle.
She backed off involuntarily.
“I was rearranging the library.” She lifted her chin. “It needs to be cleaned. As does the rest of this place. And because there aren’t any servants around here to do the job for me, I have to do it myself.”
“Are you hurt?” he asked curtly, taking in the full disaster.
“No. I’ve somehow only received a small paper cut.” She lifted a finger where a drop of blood oozed out. She popped it into her mouth.
“Why aren’t you in the coach on the way home?” Gabriel asked with a sigh. “I thought I’d made it clear that you were to leave.”
“And I thought I’d made it clear that I would be staying.”
“Is it more money you want, then?”
“How dare you!” Birdie hissed at him. “Do you think I am the kind of person whom you can bribe by offering a sufficient amount of money?”
“Then why?”
Birdie picked up a book. “Why what?”
“Why are you still here?”
