on the display of the new material. The old guidebooks and brochures will be just the thing for a case in our lecture room upstairs. Arthur is in her office poring over them now,” Robert said.
“And the letter?” Elizabeth asked.
“Oh, yes. Pride of place for that, I’m sure. As soon as it’s back.”
“Back?”
“Has to be authenticated first. I’ll be sending it off to the British Library. It’s an easy-enough process. Just looking at it under an ultraviolet light should give a good idea of the dating.”
“I don’t suppose you have any idea yet who donated the material?”
Robert smiled, exhibiting a dimple in his left cheek. “Not a clue. But we are extremely grateful. Most excitement we’ve had here for ages.” Then he seemed to realize his remark could be misunderstood. “Oh, er—I didn’t mean the break-in. Poor Claire. I meant—”
Elizabeth raised her hand. “Don’t worry; I understand. You were speaking academically.”
He gave her a grateful, dimpled smile.
Richard purchased a selection of maps and guides and returned to her side. “There, I think I’m well-armed for our tour now. Muriel offered to take us around, but I assured her we’d be fine on our own today.”
Elizabeth smiled her gratitude. A day alone with Richard was exactly what she wanted.
On the top step, they met Geraldine coming up the street at a speed that had her out of breath. She started when she saw them. “Oh, hello.” Her hand went to her flying red hair in an attempt to calm it. “Were you coming to work with Arthur? I thought he might need help, so I . . .” She stopped to catch her breath.
“No,” Richard assured her. “I’m afraid I’ve rather abandoned him in favor of searching out the sites where Jane lived in Bath. I’m sure he’d be happy to have your help.”
“If you’ve completed your own work, that is,” Elizabeth was hasty to add. “We wouldn’t want to distract you. If you think Richard should stay—”
“No!” Gerri colored slightly at her own vehemence. “I mean, I managed a thorough job yesterday. Started with the Abbey. Jane must have gone there some, although she only refers to attending Chapel.”
“Goodness, that sounds low church for Jane.” Elizabeth was puzzled.
“The Octagon Chapel, she meant. In Milsom Street. It was a very fashionable church in Jane Austen’s day. She always engaged a pew there for as long as they stayed in the city. She hired it at the same time as they hired their lodgings. In the nineteenth century, it became an antique business. Now it’s used for concerts and art shows.”
“How sad that it’s not still a church,” Elizabeth commented and started to walk on, but it seemed that Gerri needed to prove she had done her homework. Perhaps she thought they would chastise her for playing hooky, as Dr. Greystone surely would.
“And then I went to Walcot Church.” She pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose with a jab of her finger. “It was quite a hike, but well worth it. That’s where Jane’s parents were married and her father is buried, you know. St. Swithin’s. It was the parish church of Georgian Bath. The only eighteenth-century parish church left in the city—”
“Well, I hope your work today will be as successful.” Richard cut her off, stepping aside and holding the door open for Gerri to enter. Elizabeth felt that if he had been wearing a hat, he would have tipped it like a Regency gentleman.
Gerri stepped around the life-size figure of a Regency lady on the doorstep and scurried inside.
“That poor mouse,” Elizabeth said as Richard directed their steps on up Gay Street. “I think she lives in mortal fear of Muriel eating her.”
“She really doesn’t have anything to fear. Muriel’s bark is much worse than her bite. I think she sees real potential in Gerri and wants to bring out the best in her.”
“Hm. I suppose you’re right, but I’m not sure browbeating her is the best way to go about
“And the letter?” Elizabeth asked.
“Oh, yes. Pride of place for that, I’m sure. As soon as it’s back.”
“Back?”
“Has to be authenticated first. I’ll be sending it off to the British Library. It’s an easy-enough process. Just looking at it under an ultraviolet light should give a good idea of the dating.”
“I don’t suppose you have any idea yet who donated the material?”
Robert smiled, exhibiting a dimple in his left cheek. “Not a clue. But we are extremely grateful. Most excitement we’ve had here for ages.” Then he seemed to realize his remark could be misunderstood. “Oh, er—I didn’t mean the break-in. Poor Claire. I meant—”
Elizabeth raised her hand. “Don’t worry; I understand. You were speaking academically.”
He gave her a grateful, dimpled smile.
Richard purchased a selection of maps and guides and returned to her side. “There, I think I’m well-armed for our tour now. Muriel offered to take us around, but I assured her we’d be fine on our own today.”
Elizabeth smiled her gratitude. A day alone with Richard was exactly what she wanted.
On the top step, they met Geraldine coming up the street at a speed that had her out of breath. She started when she saw them. “Oh, hello.” Her hand went to her flying red hair in an attempt to calm it. “Were you coming to work with Arthur? I thought he might need help, so I . . .” She stopped to catch her breath.
“No,” Richard assured her. “I’m afraid I’ve rather abandoned him in favor of searching out the sites where Jane lived in Bath. I’m sure he’d be happy to have your help.”
“If you’ve completed your own work, that is,” Elizabeth was hasty to add. “We wouldn’t want to distract you. If you think Richard should stay—”
“No!” Gerri colored slightly at her own vehemence. “I mean, I managed a thorough job yesterday. Started with the Abbey. Jane must have gone there some, although she only refers to attending Chapel.”
“Goodness, that sounds low church for Jane.” Elizabeth was puzzled.
“The Octagon Chapel, she meant. In Milsom Street. It was a very fashionable church in Jane Austen’s day. She always engaged a pew there for as long as they stayed in the city. She hired it at the same time as they hired their lodgings. In the nineteenth century, it became an antique business. Now it’s used for concerts and art shows.”
“How sad that it’s not still a church,” Elizabeth commented and started to walk on, but it seemed that Gerri needed to prove she had done her homework. Perhaps she thought they would chastise her for playing hooky, as Dr. Greystone surely would.
“And then I went to Walcot Church.” She pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose with a jab of her finger. “It was quite a hike, but well worth it. That’s where Jane’s parents were married and her father is buried, you know. St. Swithin’s. It was the parish church of Georgian Bath. The only eighteenth-century parish church left in the city—”
“Well, I hope your work today will be as successful.” Richard cut her off, stepping aside and holding the door open for Gerri to enter. Elizabeth felt that if he had been wearing a hat, he would have tipped it like a Regency gentleman.
Gerri stepped around the life-size figure of a Regency lady on the doorstep and scurried inside.
“That poor mouse,” Elizabeth said as Richard directed their steps on up Gay Street. “I think she lives in mortal fear of Muriel eating her.”
“She really doesn’t have anything to fear. Muriel’s bark is much worse than her bite. I think she sees real potential in Gerri and wants to bring out the best in her.”
“Hm. I suppose you’re right, but I’m not sure browbeating her is the best way to go about
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