weaving of the unicorns. “It actually
looks
medieval.”
“It is. It comes from Anthony’s villa in Florence.”
Maura had seen the treasure trove of sixteenth-century paintings and Venetian furniture that Sansone kept in his Beacon Hill residence. She had no doubt that his villa in Florence would be as grand as this building, and the art even more impressive. But these were not the warm, honey-hued walls of Tuscany; here the gray stone radiated a chill that even a sunny day would not dispel.
“Have you been there yet?” Lily asked. “To his home in Florence?”
“I haven’t been invited,” said Maura.
Unlike you, obviously
.
Lily gave her a thoughtful look. “I’m sure it’s only a matter of time,” she said, and turned toward what looked like a paneled wall. She pushed against one of the panels; it swung open to reveal a doorway. “This is the passage to the library.”
“Are you trying to hide the books?”
“No, it’s just one of the peculiar features of this building. I think old Cyril Magnus liked surprises, because it’s not the only door in this house that’s disguised as something else.” Lily led her down a windowless corridor, the gloom accentuated by dark wood paneling. At the far end, they emerged into a room where tall arched windows admitted the last gray light of day. Maura stared up in wonder at gallery upon gallery of bookshelves that soared three stories to a domed ceiling where the plaster had been decorated with a painting of fluffy clouds in a blue sky.
“This is the beating heart of Evensong,” said Lily. “This library. Anytime, day or night, the students are welcome to come in here and pull any book from the shelves, as long as they promise to treat it with respect. And if they can’t find what they’re looking for in the library …” Lily crossed to a door and opened it, revealing a room with a dozen computers. “As a last resort, there’s always Dr. Google.” She shut the door again with a look of distaste. “But really, who wants the Internet when the real treasures are right
here
.” She gestured to the three stories of books. “The collected wisdom of centuries, under one roof. It makes me salivate, just looking at them.”
“Spoken like a true teacher of the classics,” said Maura as she scanned the titles.
Napoleon’s Women. Lives of the Saints. Egyptian Mythology
. She paused as one title caught her eye, stamped in gold on dark leather.
Lucifer
. The book seemed to call to her, demanding her attention. She pulled out the volume and stared at the worn leather cover, with its tooled illustration of a crouching demon.
“We believe that no knowledge is off limits,” said Lily quietly.
“Knowledge?” Maura slid the book back on the shelf and looked at the young woman. “Or superstition?”
“It helps to understand both, don’t you think?”
Maura walked down the room, past rows of long wooden tables and chairs, past a series of globes, each representing the world as known in a different age. “As long as you don’t teach it as fact,” she said , stopping to examine a globe from 1650, the continents misshapen, vast territories unknown and unexplored. “It’s superstition. Myth.”
“Actually, we teach them
your
belief system, Dr. Isles.”
“
My
belief system?” Maura looked at her in puzzlement. “Which one would that be?”
“Science. Chemistry and physics, biology and botany.” She glanced at the antique grandfather clock. “Which is where Julian is right now. And his class should just be ending.”
They left the library, returning through that dark-paneled corridor to the entrance hall, and climbed the massive stairway. As they passed beneath the tapestry, Maura saw it flutter against the stone wall, as if a draft had just swept into the building, and the unicorns seemed to come alive, trembling beneath the lushly fruited trees. The steps curved past a window, and Maura paused to admire the view of wooded hills in the
looks
medieval.”
“It is. It comes from Anthony’s villa in Florence.”
Maura had seen the treasure trove of sixteenth-century paintings and Venetian furniture that Sansone kept in his Beacon Hill residence. She had no doubt that his villa in Florence would be as grand as this building, and the art even more impressive. But these were not the warm, honey-hued walls of Tuscany; here the gray stone radiated a chill that even a sunny day would not dispel.
“Have you been there yet?” Lily asked. “To his home in Florence?”
“I haven’t been invited,” said Maura.
Unlike you, obviously
.
Lily gave her a thoughtful look. “I’m sure it’s only a matter of time,” she said, and turned toward what looked like a paneled wall. She pushed against one of the panels; it swung open to reveal a doorway. “This is the passage to the library.”
“Are you trying to hide the books?”
“No, it’s just one of the peculiar features of this building. I think old Cyril Magnus liked surprises, because it’s not the only door in this house that’s disguised as something else.” Lily led her down a windowless corridor, the gloom accentuated by dark wood paneling. At the far end, they emerged into a room where tall arched windows admitted the last gray light of day. Maura stared up in wonder at gallery upon gallery of bookshelves that soared three stories to a domed ceiling where the plaster had been decorated with a painting of fluffy clouds in a blue sky.
“This is the beating heart of Evensong,” said Lily. “This library. Anytime, day or night, the students are welcome to come in here and pull any book from the shelves, as long as they promise to treat it with respect. And if they can’t find what they’re looking for in the library …” Lily crossed to a door and opened it, revealing a room with a dozen computers. “As a last resort, there’s always Dr. Google.” She shut the door again with a look of distaste. “But really, who wants the Internet when the real treasures are right
here
.” She gestured to the three stories of books. “The collected wisdom of centuries, under one roof. It makes me salivate, just looking at them.”
“Spoken like a true teacher of the classics,” said Maura as she scanned the titles.
Napoleon’s Women. Lives of the Saints. Egyptian Mythology
. She paused as one title caught her eye, stamped in gold on dark leather.
Lucifer
. The book seemed to call to her, demanding her attention. She pulled out the volume and stared at the worn leather cover, with its tooled illustration of a crouching demon.
“We believe that no knowledge is off limits,” said Lily quietly.
“Knowledge?” Maura slid the book back on the shelf and looked at the young woman. “Or superstition?”
“It helps to understand both, don’t you think?”
Maura walked down the room, past rows of long wooden tables and chairs, past a series of globes, each representing the world as known in a different age. “As long as you don’t teach it as fact,” she said , stopping to examine a globe from 1650, the continents misshapen, vast territories unknown and unexplored. “It’s superstition. Myth.”
“Actually, we teach them
your
belief system, Dr. Isles.”
“
My
belief system?” Maura looked at her in puzzlement. “Which one would that be?”
“Science. Chemistry and physics, biology and botany.” She glanced at the antique grandfather clock. “Which is where Julian is right now. And his class should just be ending.”
They left the library, returning through that dark-paneled corridor to the entrance hall, and climbed the massive stairway. As they passed beneath the tapestry, Maura saw it flutter against the stone wall, as if a draft had just swept into the building, and the unicorns seemed to come alive, trembling beneath the lushly fruited trees. The steps curved past a window, and Maura paused to admire the view of wooded hills in the
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