She began searching the lower shelves, while Gulliver checked the third bookcase. There was an eclectic mix of cheap paperbacks, almanacs, crumbling hardback versions of long-out-of-print memoirs. She had reached the end of the shelf, when Gulliver called her.
‘Tabs, look!’
‘What have you found?’ she said with a thrill of anticipation.
‘These are all bird books,’ said Gulliver, ‘and the middle one isThe Boke of St Albans.’
The books sat in perfect alignment: a configuration of three placed in a small indentation at the top of the bookcase.
‘Why have I never noticed them before?’ said Gulliver as they gazed at the trio. ‘Do you think the one in the middle looks odd?’
‘A bit,’ she agreed, ‘it doesn’t look real. Why don’t you pull it and see if it opens a secret door.’
‘Fingers crossed,’ he said, but to their disappointment, as he tried the first book,Bird of Prey Husbandry, thenThe Boke of St Albans, neither moved.
‘Have you seen the title of the third book?’ said Tabitha, with sudden understanding.
‘“The Power and Grace of the Bird in Flight’’,’ read Gulliver. ‘It’s the last line of the clue.’
Gulliver reached up and tried to pull the third book off the shelf. To their amazement, it tilted towards him and, as it did, the entire bookcase, shifted forward several inches. They both gasped.
With great care, Gulliver eased the bookcase towards him. A cloud of dust erupted and they both coughed and sputtered. When it cleared, Gulliver lit his torch and they peered into the gap. Both of them stared in bewilderment: it was as Edith had suspected and Wilbur had known: a small square space, the secret room.
‘This is crazy,’ said Gulliver, looking inside. ‘You wait here, run for help if I disappear into a chasm.’
Tabitha gave a nervous laugh as he edged his way inside. She shone her phone torch to give Gulliver as much light as possible and then she heard him swear.
‘What is it?’ she called.
‘Wilbur was telling the truth,’ came Gulliver’s muffled voice. ‘There’s a glass box and inside is a cardboard box, written on the top it says: “Chaucer’s manuscript”.’
33
CERENSTHORPE ABBEY – PRESENT DAY
Edith clung to Gulliver’s arm and Tabitha hovered behind her as the tall man in a protective suit, similar to those usually worn at crime scenes, beamed at them from the interior of the room.
‘This is remarkable,’ said Mark Llewellyn, his Welsh vowels even more pronounced than usual due to his excitement. ‘We’ve had some unexpected discoveries at Marquess House, but this,’ he pointed to the glass case, ‘is astonishing. What’s even better is all the paperwork your great-grandfather filed with it, Mrs Swanne. The name of his contact at the British Museum, the tests they performed and the authentication – we’re rarely this lucky.’
‘Is it safe to move it?’ asked Edith.
‘Not yet,’ said Mark. ‘It’s been inside the room and its case for decades. We’ll need to ensure there’s no damp anywhere before we expose it, but it won’t be long. You must be desperate to examine it.’
The click of heels on the wooden floor caused them all to turn. Lucia walked towards them; her long blonde highlighted hair fell to her waist in perfect soft waves and curls. She wore a figure-hugging dress of fuchsia pink and knee-high patent bootswith spiky heels. Her blue eyes were hooded and watchful and her pink painted lips curled with disdain.
‘I told you to wait for me,’ she said coldly to Gulliver, ignoring Edith and Tabitha. Despite the Italian heritage she spoke about endlessly, she had no trace of it in her vowels.
‘You’re an hour late,’ said Gulliver.
‘And?’
‘The world doesn’t revolve around you.’
Edith cleared her throat.
‘Are you all right, Edith?’ Lucia asked, her tone patronising.
‘Perfectly, thank you,’ replied Edith, crisply. ‘The house remains mine, Lucia, therefore, we work to my timetable.’
