Page 38 of The Missing Pages
I took another sip of my wine. The lush surroundings of Verrey’s fell away from me. My attention was focused solely on Ada.
“He certainly was taken by surprise,” I told her. “But really, who would be a better chaperone than you?”
I knew that her being given the job as a courier wouldn’t tarnish her reputation at all, if anything it would add yet another accomplishment to her résumé,
“Ada Lippoldt, daughter of John and Lucy Lippoldt from Sheffield, England, the temporary caretaker in transit of a £1,000 book.” She giggled again. “No one would believe it.”
“Well I do, and Bernard Alfred agreed to consider it.”
“Really?” She shook her head. “I can hardly believe that.”
“Why?”
“A few reasons, to start. One, we’re quite understaffed at the shop and Mr. Quaritch relies on me to keep so much of his business organized. So another lengthy trip abroad after I’ve just been to New York would be irritating to him, to say the least.” She cut another bite of food. “And two, I doubt Mr. Cecil would allow me to be responsible for such precious cargo because, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a woman.”
“I anticipated both of those responses already.” I leaned in closer.
“You did?”
“Yes,” I answered playfully. “I assured Bernard Alfred that I would be your—and therefore the book’s—‘silent chaperone.’ That to ensure everything went smoothly, I’d journey along with you and escort you and the book through customs.”
She still looked puzzled.
“I explained that the fastest way to get you to New York and back was if you sailed with me on theTitanic.”
“Is this really true?” Ada remained incredulous.
“Yes, the wheels are already in motion.” I paused. “That is, if you would like to go with me…”
“Of course I do!”
“That’s the answer I was hoping for.” I tapped the table. “And it’s not too long now. TheTitanicsets sail on Wednesday, April the 10th, from Southampton.”
“Well, if this all does come to pass, I’d still have some time to show you London,” she said and laughed. Somehow throughout our conversation she’d managed to eat almost all of her roasted chicken.
“Twenty days exactly.” I wagged a finger.
“You’d better finish your steak, then,” she teased. “We have a lot to do before we leave.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Violet left the dining room and headed for the library. Not only did she have to finish an English paper, but she’d promised Madeline she’d transcribe more of the Widener correspondence. Earlier that afternoon, Madeline had handed Violet a stack of photocopied letters, most of them from Rosenbach to Harry, but also others that had been donated to the collection. There were a few from Bernard Alfred Quaritch in London, as well as some that Harry had written to Luther Livingston, another friend and book dealer he admired.
“I’m about to make a quick trip to England. We sail at 1 a.m. on theMauretaniaand return on April 10th on the maiden voyage of theTitanic.”When Violet got toward the end of the letter, she saw Harry had confided to Livingston that his grandfather had just secured the Mazarin Bible, one of the few Gutenberg Bibles existing in the world and a victorious acquisition for any book collector.
She closed her eyes and tried to imagine Harry getting ready for his journey. His excitement that his grandfather had obtained such a precious book, one that might fall into Harry’s own collection one day. Violet imagined his palpable energy. His brimming expectations about what new books he might discover across the pond.
But she also realized that nowhere had she been able to find in any of his letters, in her discussions with Madeline, or in the archives, any mention of Harry having any sort of emotional life. Of his being in love. He was twenty-seven, a prime age for settling down. His familywas rich, he was well educated, and from all accounts, including the obituary written by a fellow Harvard classmate, A. Edward Newton, he was a gentleman in every regard.
But the thought kept returning to Violet, almost as if the seed had been purposely implanted inside her head: Why hadn’t anyone asked if Harry had ever been in love?
What was it that Stead had written about creating a code to ask a question to the other side?
Violet knew she was doing something that would sound ludicrous to anyone at the college, certainly Jenny and Lara. But what did she have to lose?
She got up from the table and walked in the direction of the Memorial Room. There was, of course, no one there. She turned her head and surveyed her surroundings. No students were coming up the stairs, no librarians were walking through the rotunda. She was completely alone and no one was looking. Violet gathered all her courage and moved the rope and snuck in.
Once inside, she walked over to Harry’s desk and chair. There was a black-and-white photograph of him in a silver frame, his eyes warm and kind. The flowers she had ordered for this week were still fresh. She inhaled the smell of roses and sat down at his chair.
