A kiss then, both raw and sweet in emotion, careful and ferocious at the same time. He set her up again. He lifted her hips, then lowered her while they joined. He separated the edges of the silk and took her breasts in his hands. “Take your pleasure, darling. Look at me and see my love while you do.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Will you tell me now where we are going?” Davina asked the question while the coach rolled through town. “South now. Are we going to St. James’s?”
“Close to there. We are going on a hunt.” Eric hoped the hunt succeeded. It had been planned meticulously, and all logic said it might, but one never knew. “Here we are.”
“The Queen’s House? We are hunting on a royal property?”
“Something like that.” He handed her out. “It is not only a house. The King’s Library is here.”
She looked confused, but allowed him to escort her in. She stopped short once inside. “Why are all these people here?”
“This is our hunting party.” Also, in the event of success, their witnesses. The group waiting for them included Stratton and Langford and their duchesses.
Langford brought over a man who resembled him, along with another very elderly gentleman. “Let me introduce my brother, Harold. And also Mr. Barnard, the Royal Librarian. Both are intimately familiar with the library and have agreed to aid us today.”
Davina smiled graciously, but still looked confused. “What are we searching for?” she whispered to Eric.
He drew her a few steps away. “A Bible. Your family’s Bible. We may not find it. I could be wrong. However, if that was what your grandfather took from the house, and if it was sent to the last king, and it was among his possessions when he died, there is a good chance it ended up here, in his library. Its significance to your cause would not have been known or recognized at the time. When a king dies, his household has other matters occupying it.”
Lights of hope entered her eyes. “That is a lot of ifs, but I think you may be correct. It is wise you did not tell me this before you brought me here. I would have paced the house until we could come to see.” She walked back to Mr. Barnard. “Can we go to the library now?”
Mr. Barnard led the way. Eric escorted Davina and their party trailed behind. Into the large octagonal room that held the library they filed. Davina’s face fell. “There must be thousands of books here. We will never find just one.”
“There are over sixty thousand,” Mr. Barnard said. “However, they are all organized so they can be found without too much difficulty, so they can be used by scholars. The Bibles are all in one section, with pride of place, of course, going to that printed by Gutenberg. Come with me.”
There were a lot of Bibles. Not only Gutenberg’s, but also other early ones both in manuscript and early printing. “Once we get to more recent years, there is less differentiation to the shelving,” Mr. Barnard said. “These cases here hold the ones from the last several hundred years. The last king bought many collections, and almost all had Bibles.”
Davina looked up and down the cases. “It is a good thing we brought that hunting party.”
Langford’s brother took over. He divided up the party and assigned them shelves. He gave a little lecture on handling frail books. “We can assume it is in Latin, Gaelic or English. Any other languages you can reshelf immediately.” They all went to work.
Even the best-kept library collected a lot of dust. Fifteen minutes later, clouds of it surrounded them. Tome by tome, Eric removed Bibles and checked for any in one of the languages noted. Those he examined more carefully.
They had been there almost an hour when he felt a pull on his coat sleeve. Clara stood at his side. She passed a book to him. “I think this may be it,” she said quietly. “You and Davina can see if it is.”
He appreciated her discretion. Should they find the Bible, and should it contain anything of use, there would be cause for celebration. If they did not, or if it held nothing of value to her, he did not want Davina’s reaction to be too public.
He walked to her and showed her the book, then took her away from the others. He set it on a reading table. They both just stared at it.
“I am almost afraid to open it,” she said.
“I understand. However, it is time.” He turned back the front of the soft leather binding.
There, on the front pages, left blank of printing so as to accommodate such a use, were the family notations of the MacCallums of Teyhill.
He turned two pages full of writing, then stopped at the final one. It was only half-filled. Davina read the next to the last line in a whisper.
1746—James MacCallum, born 1740, was sent to Harold Mitchell of Northumberland for safekeeping after his father’s death at Culloden.
Below it was one last note.1748—Teyhill given to an English duke by the king. Household dispersed.
Her breath caught. “Oh my. You have done it, Brentworth. You have found my proof.”
He turned to where Clara watched them. He nodded. Davina’s expression showed just how successful the hunt had been. Word spread, and the party closed in. Clara pushed Mr. Barnard forward. “You must verify this discovery here in this library, sir. No one can claim thatyoulied out of friendship for Brentworth.”
Mr. Barnard examined the Bible, then smiled. They had cause for celebration after all.
