Page 64 of Her Scandalous Pursuit

“No, no, dear, don’t be discouraged. We shall split up the work. I will continue climbing the family trees, so to speak. I have a good deal of experience in that type of research. You start looking through histories of the Tudors to see if you can find a mention of alchemists and this Anne Ballew. You can try a biography of John Dee, perhaps—that might be helpful. Oh! I just remembered. Alfred Symington sent me a book he wrote—we correspond now and then, though he’s rather fonder of folklore than I. Now, what was it called? It was tales of witchcraft, I believe. I fear I never read it. It’s not one of my interests. But I’m sure I kept it—I know him, you see, and in any case, one cannot simply toss a book away.” He looked appalled.

Thisbe turned to survey row upon row of shelves. “Do you know where it might be?”

“Goodness, no. It could be in history or religion or perhaps... Well, truth is it could be any number of places.” He brightened. “We can call up young Livvy—she enjoys digging through books. She’s been up here quite a bit lately.”

Unsurprisingly, Olivia was happy to leave her Latin grammar book and join them in Uncle Bellard’s rooms. While Thisbe took on the task of finding alchemists, Olivia chose to research the subject of witches. Uncle Bellard got diverted now and then by some connection to a historical event and Olivia wandered off into a discussion of spiritualism in the United States; even Thisbe was waylaid once by a biography of Isaac Newton. But they kept at it, working steadily through teatime.

Though they found nothing about Anne Ballew, they doggedly returned to the search the next morning. Bellard followed strand after strand of Cornelia’s lineage, but in the end he announced with certitude that there was no Ballew in the dowager duchess’s ancestry.

“I did find one of her grandfather’s cousins who was hanged, however,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. “A Jacobite. He would only have been banished to the colonies if he hadn’t offended the judge by questioning the judge’s understanding of the law.”

“That sounds fitting.” Thisbe laughed. She turned toward Olivia. “Have you found anything?”

Olivia shook her head. She was sitting on the floor with her back against the wall, a veritable fortress of books stacked up around her. “Did you know that there were two sisters in the States who fooled everyone into thinking they were ‘channeling’ spirits? They held séances where spirits would make rapping noises and such. Why do you suppose a ghost could rap on something but couldn’t speak?”

“Perhaps these sisters didn’t have Grandmother’s ‘gift’ of speaking to the dead.” Thisbe flashed a grin at her sister.

“Many people believe the sisters manage all the rapping and noises themselves. But their followers are adamant that it’s all true. Spiritualism is a sort of religion over there.”

“It’s reaching England,” Thisbe replied. “Desmond’s mentor studied spirit photography from some chap from New York City.”

“That was interesting,” Olivia admitted. “My supposition is that they were using plates that had been used before and not cleaned properly.” She grimaced. “It seems a really rotten thing to do to someone in the throes of grief.”

“It is.”

“What did you say? Spiritualism?” Uncle Bellard looked up from his book. “Isn’t that what that nice young lad who calls on you does, Thisbe?”

“Desmond isn’t a Spiritualist,” Thisbe protested. “He agrees that spirit photography is a swindle. Desmond is a scientist conducting an experiment to prove or disprove the existence of—” She stopped abruptly, aware of Olivia’s gaze on her. “Not that it matters what Desmond thinks.” She frowned at her sister. “Have you learned anything about Anne Ballew?”

“No. I’m still trying to find the book Uncle Bellard’s friend wrote.”

“He is more a correspondent than a friend,” Bellard remarked. “But I am sure I have it. It won’t be out here.” He gestured toward the books scattered about the room. “Those are ones I’m using. It will be tucked away on one of the shelves. Have you tried down there?” He nodded toward the opposite wall.

Olivia stood up and started toward the bookcase, but stopped. “Uh-oh, I hear the Greats.”

It was, indeed, the pounding of tiny feet that heralded the approach of the young twins.

“I don’t think they have a pace slower than a run. Of course, that’s good—it gives one warning.” Thisbe cast a worried glance at her great-uncle’s miniature military figures.

Bellard caught her look. “No need to fret. They’re well-behaved with the soldiers...though Alex does have a regrettable tendency to now and then stick one in his pocket. Not that he means any harm, you understand. I think perhaps he’s inherited the Moreland fondness for collecting things.”

Con hurtled into the room, exclaiming, “I won!”

“Did not,” Alex protested automatically. “I helped Miss Katie.” He cast an angelic look back at his caretaker.

“Aye, and so you did,” the woman said, swooping him up and kissing his cheek with a loud smack. “But you still cannot have the biscuits until teatime.”

“I helped, too,” Con announced, never one to be left out.

“Aye, I’d be lost in this place without you two,” their nurse agreed cheerfully.

At least Desmond had given them Katie, Thisbe thought somewhat sourly. The woman had been a godsend. She was able to take the twins in stride and managed them better than any nurse before her.

The twins and Bellard spent the next few minutes examining the newest additions to his collection, the boys astonishingly quiet. Even Con wasn’t rattling away as he usually did. After a few minutes of awe and serious discussion, the boys were off again, running to their sisters for a hug and a kiss, then pelting out the door and down the hall, Katie in their wake.

After that interruption, the room was silent again until Olivia cried, “Ha! I found it!”

“Symington’s book?” Bellard asked. “Excellent.”