“Actually the lady would prefer to come with you,” announced Charlotte in equally flawless Latin. She batted her lashes. “Surely three sets of eyes will accomplish the task faster than two.”
“Why, that’s an excellent suggestion, milady,” agreed von Münch. To the head librarian, he added, “I’m sure you have no objection to the Countess of Wrexford joining the hunt.”
The man looked scandalized over the idea of a female setting foot in hissanctum sanctorum, but on hearing von Münch’s mention of her title, he swallowed any protest. Few people went out of their way to provoke the earl’s ire.
“I have checked a master compendium of European manuscripts in our reference room, which was compiled by scholars at the Sorbonne at the beginning of the last century.” The head librarian had left off his earlier pretensions and was now speaking in English. “It says that the manuscript entitledNihil Est Quod Hominum Efficere Non Possitwas a copy of a secret workbook of drawings made for Grand Duke Ferdinando I de’ Medici of Tuscany, who ruled from 1587 to 1609.”
They passed through a set of double doors and into a long corridor.
“The notation also says that five copies of the manuscript were made,” he continued. “Three are known to have been destroyed in the late 1500s. One is in the collection of Balliol College at Oxford—”
“That is the one which has gone missing,” said von Münch.
“Which leaves one for which there is no information as to its whereabouts.” The head librarian came to a halt and made a face. “As I told you, we have no record of having it here in our collection.”
“But from what I have read about the King’s Library, all the books and archival materials were first kept in the Old Palace at Kew before being moved here to Buckingham House,” said Charlotte. “So it’s possible that records may have been lost.”
A curt nod acknowledged the truth of the statement. As the head librarian resumed walking, he turned to the question of where to begin their search. “Given the date of the manuscript in question, we are looking at a transition period from Renaissance to Baroque. Which means the manuscript in question could be housed in either of those two sections of our library.”
He glanced at von Münch. “You have no further details that might help us decide where to look first?”
“I’m sorry. I know nothing about it, save for the title.”
“A thought occurred to me,” ventured Charlotte. “The title itself seems to embody the very essence of Renaissance humanism. Unlike his immediate predecessors, Grand Duke Ferdinando was an enlightened ruler, harkening back to the likes of Cosimo the Great, the celebrated patron of the arts in Florence.”
Ignoring the head librarian’s startled reaction to her knowledge of history, she thought for a moment and then added, “The grand duke was interested in the arts and scientific learning, so my guess is he might have commissioned a number of works reflecting those interests in the first years of his rule.”
“Ja,” said von Münch, “that makes sense, milady.”
The head librarian gave a grudging nod. “Then let us start in the Renaissance section.” He took the next turn and led them through a passageway that connected the main section of the palatial house with the East Wing.
On entering the second of a suite of cavernous rooms—this one was shaped like an octagon and topped by a massive dome with arched windows set in its base—the head librarian gestured at the towering shelves that filled all eight of the walls.
“I suggest we each start at a different wall and move on from there.” He gestured at the rolling ladders affixed to a set of brass rails on each side of the cases. “Assuming the rigors of research aren’t too demanding for Her Ladyship?”
“I shall manage,” she replied.
“Then let us get to work.”
Charlotte rolled her ladder to the left edge of the nearest wall and climbed up for a clear view of the top shelf. Not all the spines had a title, so many of the items would have to be pulled out and the title page checked. She flexed her shoulders and gave a grim smile. It was going to be a long afternoon....
But the first one to tire won’t be me, she vowed.
They toiled in scholarly silence, the only sounds the flutter of paper, the creak of wooden ladders, and the ticking of the tall case clock near the entranceway. After having no luck with her first wall of books and manuscripts, she moved on to another one.
She eventually developed a comfortable rhythm for checking the shelves, though on several occasions she inwardly cursed her skirts, as they snagged her shoes and nearly sent her tumbling to the floor.
A mishap that likely would have greatly pleased the head librarian for reinforcing his prejudices concerning the weaker sex . . .
Distracted by such musing, Charlotte nearly snapped shut the leatherbound manuscript that she was checking with only a cursory look. But the last two words of the handwritten title caught her eye.
Non Possit—
Bracing herself for balance, she carefully raised the cover to reveal the full page.
Nihil Est Quod Hominum Efficere Non Possit.
A smile touched her lips as Charlotte ran a fingertip over the inked lettering.
