Page 20 of The Ambiguous Enigma of the Hunted Lady
“I know not!” Kenneth leaned against one of the scaling ladders, and it began to roll on its track, so he was forced to recoil. He brushed off his sleeve with an irritated expression.
“Well, which literature is Your Grace familiar with?” It was clear Daniel was truly trying to help, but Kenneth was not making it easy for him.
“Shakespeare.” Kenneth announced abruptly. “Everyone knows and loves Shakespeare. Am I wrong?”
“Everyone knows of him, Your Grace.” Daniel allowed. “However, I would not go so far as to say everyone loves him. He has both his critics and his followers.”
“Yes, but there are far more followers than critics, are there not?”
“It depends on whomever is acting, Your Grace.”
“I do not mean on stage, I speak of reading the text. There, I see it on the shelves.”
“When was the last time you read from Shakespeare, Your Grace?” Daniel asked, delicately.
Kenneth realized that he had never read any of the works, he had only attended performances. He felt foolish.
“Come now, Daniel, give me a book to bring to her. It is only a symbol, for I shall ask her what her preferences are.”
“Perhaps some short stories, Your Grace.” Daniel crossed to a shelf and began scanning the titles before retrieving one. “Harmless tales of morality.” he handed the book to Kenneth.
“Harmless indeed.” he joked, taking it under his arm. “If you would remain here, I may require your assistance retrieving her titles of choice, providing we have them.” Then Kenneth stopped at the door, blinking. “What are the odds we won't have what she wants to read?”
“I think that depends greatly on what sort of reading she enjoys, Your Grace.” Daniel offered. “But your father did amass a–” Daniel paused to find the correct word, glancing over the high rings of shelves. “serious collection,” he concluded.
“Well enough.” Kenneth shrugged, and went to present his offering.
In the hall he met his mother who, like she could often be found, was directing the dusting efforts of some of her precious picture frames.
“What are you reading?” she asked, her curiosity no doubt perked by the long-lost sight of a book under his arm. She often badgered him to read more. “The food for the mind,” she called it.
“Nothing, Mother, it is for Miss Benson.” he tried to brush her off and walk past.
“Miss Benson?” Juliet hurried to intercept him. “She can read?”
“So, she has told me.” he replied, feeling caged between the wall and his mother's demanding personage.
“Well, come on, what are you bringing her?”
Rather than explaining that he did not actually know, he just showed her the book cover.
“Have you read this?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No,” he confessed.
“Well, it is a good enough choice. When can we expect the doctor?”
“Dr. Fowler should be here some time about tea.”
“Splendid, we will have it with him after he concludes his examination.” Kenneth could see that she took excitement from the arrangement of 'proper plans' as she called them.
“Well enough, Mother.” He moved around her. “I shall send for you when he arrives.”
“Yes, very well be on your way.” Juliet teased, fluffing a dust rag in his direction. She turned back to the servants present and Kenneth could hear her commanding voice start up again as he ducked up the stairs.
Kenneth knocked on her door, and heard her answer with a “Come in.”
“I have brought you something to read.” he began, holding the book up before him. “Although I confess, my manservant selected it. I fear you shall find it horribly boring and full of church speak.” He tossed the book forward to the bed, and it bounced between her ankles. He looked around and gave a friendly nod to Beatrice, who was folding cloth in the corner and stocking the room's linen closet.
