Rose leaned closer; the text itself was faded, but in its enlarged form, there seemed to be some words pencilled below it.
‘What is it? What does it say?’
Jane shook her head. ‘I cannot decipher sufficient of the lettering to be certain, other than of one thing. My sister wrote this; whatever these words are, they came from her.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rose spared a glance at Morgan, who could surely hear them. ‘What do you mean?’ she whispered.
Touching the screen warily this time, Jane stared at it as the page magnified again, then turned to Rose. ‘This is Cass’s hand; I would know it anywhere.’
Rose stared at the words. Very little survived of Cassandra Austen’s letters, so the writing style meant nothing to her and the words were almost illegible, the ink so faded and the transition to microfilm not helping either. ‘Does that say something about “the end”?’ She frowned – so it was the final volume; of course it was, and even if Jane was right – and she wasn’t entirely certain Cassandra Austen was prone to defacing library books – what difference did it make?
Jane shook her head. ‘’Tis not certain.’ She was peering very closely at the screen now and probably in serious danger of damaging those fine hazel eyes if she wasn’t careful.
‘You guys okay?’ Morgan spoke quietly on the other side of Jane.
Rose nodded, wanting to discourage Morgan from asking any more questions just now. ‘Yes, fine. Just looks like someone has scribbled in the front of the book, nothing more.’
‘Nice to know graffiti was all the rage even then.’ Morgan laughed and started to straighten her papers.
Slowly, Jane sat back in her seat and drew in a shaky breath. ‘I – I told you, did I not, this was the book I was reading the last time I left. I collected it from the circulating library earlier that day; Cassandra must have hoped I would seek it out.’
‘You think this’ – Rose waved a hand at the screen – ‘is the actual copy? That it’s a message from her?’ She could sense Morgan’s interest was with them, even though she appeared to be engrossed in packing up her bag, and lowered her voice even further. ‘Can you read any of it?’
Jane shook her head. ‘I shall endeavour to make it out; I make no guarantees.’
Morgan stirred, and Rose glanced at her as she got to her feet and swung her bag over her shoulder. ‘Well, I think I’d better get going. Rose – call if you want to meet later.’
‘Wait, I’ll walk with you.’ Rose glanced back at Jane as they walked towards the library entrance, but she was still peering intently at the screen in front of her.
‘Is everything okay?’ Morgan stopped as they reached the doorway and inclined her head back towards the study area. ‘Your funny friend – she seems a little wound-up today.’
‘She’s fine – I think.’ Rose shrugged. ‘Look, is there any chance you are free tonight? If you’re leaving Bath so soon, I don’t know when I’ll see you again.’ It was an effort not to sound too needy, but Morgan didn’t seem to notice.
‘Sure! I’m just off to take a few more photos at number 4 – indoors, thankfully – but I’m free tonight. Should we do dinner again? Last time was fun.’
Feeling she’d been granted a reprieve, Rose nodded. ‘Perfect. How about—’
‘Rose Wallace. There you are!’
A dark-haired young woman came hurrying into the library to join them, a wide smile on her face. It was Liz – or was it Lottie? Thankfully, she at least looked exactly as she normally did, and Rose smiled at her, but in response she got a finger wagged in her face.
‘What’s going on with you? I must’ve tried calling you a dozen times this week and it just keeps going to voicemail.’ She turned to Morgan and smiled. ‘Rose is useless, always letting her phone battery die.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Rose was so grateful for the sight of another familiar face, but despite that she felt on very uneven ground. ‘This is my friend, Morgan, from the US.’ Please, please, please introduce yourself so I don’t have to get Liz’s name wrong.
Liz held out her hand and Morgan shook it. ‘Lovely to meet you. I’m Lottie.’ She grinned at Rose. ‘We went to college together a few years ago and then kept going with some evening classes.’ She laughed. ‘Some were not quite as successful as others.’
‘Awesome! What did you study?’ Morgan was immediately interested in this new acquaintance, but Rose was already wondering what might be coming. The only class they’d started together was an English literature one, at Rose’s persuasion, and Liz had left within weeks, trying her hand at a language course before giving up on it, saying it wasn’t the same without Rose there.
‘Oh, all sorts. Rose here was a dab hand at most things, but I just can’t apply myself.’ This was sufficient encouragement for Morgan, however, who soon had engaged Liz in conversation, with Rose trying hard to keep up and see what else may have changed other than her friend’s name.
‘Forgive my intrusion.’
Rose turned around to find Jane at her side. Her colour had returned to normal, but her expression remained serious. ‘May we speak?’
Concerned, Rose glanced at Morgan and Liz, who were chatting away happily. ‘Yes – of course. What is it?’
‘It is imperative I see the book in its original form. Cass’s words were meant for me, I am certain.’
‘But it’s just a line. What can one line tell you?’
‘I know not; yet I have a longing to see my sister’s hand. Pray, indulge me in this, Rose?’
Jane looked as serious as Rose had ever seen her and, although she had no idea what it would achieve, she nodded. ‘Okay; let me just say goodbye.’
Interrupting Morgan in full flow wasn’t easy, but once her friend had noticed Jane, she saved Rose the trouble of introducing her as well by doing it herself, before starting to question Liz further about her job as a junior solicitor.
Liz, however, was as adept at extricating herself from situations as Morgan was at gaining information from people, and she smiled apologetically at Morgan. ‘You’ll have to excuse me; I only popped in to check with Rose that everything’s all okay for Sunday. It is, isn’t it, Rose?’
Rose bit her lip. What was happening on Sunday, for heaven’s sake? Liz was looking at her expectantly, however, and she suddenly recalled the engagement party invitation sitting on her mantelpiece in her flat. Heaven alone knew what she’d done with it at her mother’s house. ‘Of course.’
‘We’re so looking forward to seeing the cake.’
Rose’s relief wavered as Jane said, ‘Pray, what cake might this be?’
‘It’s for our engagement.’ Liz waved a hand bearing a sparkling ring in front of them. ‘Rose makes the most amazing cakes. Really beautiful, and I told Tina we had to have one for our party.’
If Rose’s mind hadn’t gone into overdrive at the idea of making a cake when she couldn’t bake, she might have been amused by the look on Jane’s face. She summoned a smile, however, as Liz turned to walk away.
‘See you Sunday, Rose. Oh, and don’t forget the wording we agreed!’ With a wave of her hand, Liz was gone, and Rose put a hand to her head. Could things really get any more complicated?
* * *
There was a constant bustle of people in the library after lunch, with a children’s reading hour, a well-attended local history display in the exhibition room and a student group working on their coursework. As soon as a suitable moment arose, Rose and Jane slipped through the door leading to the lower floor unnoticed by any of the other staff.
Her legs feeling weak, partly through anxiety over taking someone into a domain she probably shouldn’t have access to, but also over Jane’s potential disappointment, Rose quickly ushered her down to the lower hallway and then stared at the row of doors. The book hadn’t been on the electronic system, and Mary had had to show Rose how to use the card catalogue to identify its specific location, but which door led to it?
Jane was looking up and
down the windowless corridor, her face alive with interest. ‘It would be preferable to work down here, would it not? I find the light more to my liking.’
Rose smiled ruefully. How could Jane be so easily distracted from their purpose?
The sound of a door slamming somewhere out of sight made them both start, however, and Rose grasped the first door handle, whispering over her shoulder, ‘It should be – just in here I think.’
The room was a stationery cupboard, and they both backed out quickly.
‘Okay, perhaps not.’ Rose turned around, trying to remember the day she’d come down with the plan to try and familiarise herself with things. ‘Here, let’s try this one.’
With relief, the second door – labelled unhelpfully Bookstack 2 – led into the local store and, using the identification markers on the floor-to-ceiling shelves, Rose quickly located bay 11.
‘It should be in here.’ She grasped the lever and turned it several times so the shelving unit parted, closing the first row in the process as the shelves of books by local authors slowly revealed themselves.
Stepping forward, Rose glanced at the reference number she had written on the back of her hand, but before she could move further, a hand gripped her arm. ‘Good heavens!’ Jane was staring wide-eyed at the vast metal shelving unit. ‘Is it safe? Is one not at risk of crushing?’
Rose shrugged. ‘Hopefully not. It’s a manually operated rolling system, see?’ She pointed to the lever. ‘And we are the only ones down here. Besides, what else are we to do?’
Jane released her arm, but followed her along the row rather warily, constantly looking back towards the room beyond their confined space.
‘Okay, it should be here somewhere.’ Rose scanned the shelves. The books were of all shapes, sizes and styles, and many were of much more recent publication than the volume they sought. She crouched down and scanned the lower shelves to no avail, but as she straightened, she caught sight of something of interest. ‘Here! These are really old. Look.’
Rose pointed to the name written on the shelf, above which were several very old-looking spines. ‘Radcliffe, Ann. Now, which is the right one?’ She ran a finger along and soon found the volumes of The Romance of the Forest she had returned to Anne earlier. Next to it, and noticeably in a far more delicate condition, was the final volume, and Rose eased it carefully from the shelf and opened it, her insides swirling with guilt.
Jane peered over her shoulder. ‘Look, see?’ Pointing to the red mark in the top corner of the front cover, Jane nodded. ‘This is, to be certain, a lending copy. That is the shelf mark.’
The book was in very poor condition, unlike the other volumes, and had an even more musty smell. The pages looked very tattered and browned, and Rose turned to look at Jane, who stepped beside her and nodded.
Reverently, she turned the first page and there, in a neat and precise hand, were the words they had seen on the microfilm, only this time, though badly faded, they could just about be made out.
Oft, the end befits the beginning. CEA
Rose looked at Jane. ‘What does that mean?’
Jane said nothing as she reached out and traced the faded words, her finger lingering over the final letters. ‘Cass would oft read the conclusion of a book ’ere she began. Did I not tell you? ’Twas a most singular habit, and we fought most amicably about it.’
‘Okay, but why would she write these words here?’
‘Before all was altered, she may have desired to send it to me? It is in her nature to remind me of our quarrels.’ Jane held out her hand for the book, and Rose closed it and passed it to her.
Jane stared at it for a moment, stroking the battered cover. Then she opened it up and read the words again, before flicking through the pages to the back of the book, where she studied the closing lines of the story. ‘I felt obliged to read the end, in case there was aught here for me. How Cass would have laughed at such an outcome.’
Rose frowned. A line from Cassandra Austen sent in teasing to her sister hardly helped them. ‘What do you mean, aught – what did you expect?’
Jane shook her head. ‘I know not; perchance more of her hand, but to what purpose? Those words were likely penned before the moment the portal closed.’ Then she smiled ruefully at Rose. ‘I know not for what I hoped.’
‘But surely Cass… I mean, your sister, could hardly write much in a library book and expect it to go unnoticed for two centuries!’
With a delicate shrug of her shoulders, Jane closed the book. ‘Lending copies were oft liberally covered with annotations, even illustrations by some industrious hand.’
Taking the book from Jane, Rose opened it carefully again, reading the faint lines under the title and then easing open the backboard, which clung tentatively to the spine. Then she frowned.
‘Why is there a bookplate in a library book? It doesn’t make any sense.’
‘If in all of this you seek sense, Rose, I fear you are destined for disappointment.’
‘Okay, but why is it on the back cover? Weren’t they usually stuck inside the front?’ Rose angled the book to catch the best of the light, which was limited inside the shelving unit. ‘There are some letters on it, too. There.’ She pointed to the faint markings.
‘Plates profess ownership – one owns the front and back as much as one owns the pages within.’ Jane took the book from Rose and glanced at the worn bookplate, which was coming loose on one side. ‘Though ’tis rare in a lending copy.’ She went to close it, but then gave a small gasp.
‘This lettering you mention… it is Cassandra’s mark; of that I am certain, though ’tis sadly distorted. Look.’ Jane pointed to the faded letters. ‘These are her initials.’ She flicked to the front of the book where ‘CEA’ followed the wording, and then to the back cover, and Rose stared at it. Was it wishful thinking that the lettering she thought she’d seen were those actual letters?
Jane, in the meantime, was running a hand over the book, examining the spine and then returning to the back where she touched the frayed edge where the bookplate had been attached.
‘There is something concealed beneath.’
A shiver passed through Rose as some of Jane’s palpable excitement reached her. Could she be right, or was she just indulging in a ridiculous hope? ‘What – I mean, how can – how can it?’
‘Do not undervalue my sister, Rose. Cass is… was a resourceful and able woman.’
Jane returned her attention to the back of the book. In its damaged state, the edge of the bookplate was already worn thin in places, and Rose held her breath as Jane pulled at it, expecting an alarm – moral if not actual – to go off at any moment at such sacrilege, but nothing happened.
With the paper so frail, it did not take long for Jane to peel back enough of it to reveal a small piece of folded parchment, pressed entirely flat by two hundred years of constraint. Rose swallowed hard and whispered, ‘Take it, Jane. It must be for you.’
‘Long had I foregone all hopes of a letter from my sister; perchance there is some intelligence of home.’ Jane, her hands clearly trembling, carefully extracted the paper just as the door to the archive room opened.
Rose quickly closed the book and tucked it back onto the shelf before hurrying to the end of the row to peer out and see who was there.
‘Rose!’
‘Barbara!’ Rose’s voice came out as a squeak as she grasped for words – any words that might help. ‘You gave me a start!’
‘What are you doing down here?’ Barbara frowned as Jane emerged from the shelving row to stand beside her, one hand tucked into her pocket. ‘And who is this? Rose, you know we do not allow the public down here.’
‘Er… yes, I was just remembering that and saying to… to this customer.’ She gestured towards Jane. ‘We’d better get back up to the main floor and talk to you first.’
‘Yes, well – good.’ Barbara smiled kindly at them both, waiting for something, and Rose raised a brow in question.
‘What was it th
at you needed that required permission to come down here with this lady?’
‘Oh!’ Rose forced a laugh. ‘Yes, sorry. Well, Miss Ashton here, she specialises in antiques, so she’s interested in the restoration of old books.’
Barbara frowned. ‘Well, our priority of course is preservation, but with the right grants and resources that’s certainly a possibility. In fact, it’s a passion of mine. Is it something you’re also interested in, Rose?’
Rose’s guilt over their recent abuse of a valuable book came out as a very convincing, ‘Yes, very much! Especially works from the early nineteenth century.’
Barbara’s smile widened. ‘That’s nice to know. But next time, you really must get permission to access anything in this area, Rose.’
‘Absolutely.’
They all three stood around nodding at each other for a moment, until Jane nudged Rose in the back with her elbow. ‘Forgive me for taking up so much of your time, Rose. Shall we remove to the upper floor?’
‘Yes, of course!’ Rose turned to Barbara. ‘Thank you so much for understanding. It won’t happen again.’
Rose and Jane edged their way past Barbara and out into the corridor, closing the door behind them and then, in silent agreement, walking rapidly back to the stairs and the anonymity of the busy main library floor.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Looking no less guilty as they emerged into the room than they had earlier on leaving it, Rose led Jane to a nearby table, then turned on her heel only to be stopped by Jane’s hand on her arm.
‘Where are you going?’ she hissed. ‘You cannot leave me – not now.’
Rose shook her head. ‘I’m not; I’m just going to the cookery section. You forget I have a gourmet cake to bake by Sunday!’
The Particular Charm of Miss Jane Austen Page 18
