then replied, "Laura Livingston. I'm here to study your
father's books. And you're Ellen, right?" Ellen nodded.
"I haven't met
your father yet. Do you think that would be possible?"
Ellen looked
troubled. "I'm not sure. He's been very ill. Hamish says he
shouldn't see anyone but us, as it might tire him too much. He's
eighty-five, you know."
"I see. In that
case I won't ask to see him. But my problem is that these books
aren't in the catalog, and I want very much to learn where he
bought them. Do you think he would mind if I wrote him a note,
and you took it up to him with the books?"
"Oh, I think he
would like it of all things. He never gets to talk to anyone
about books now. I bring him things from the library when he
wants them, and I talk to him sometimes, but I don't know as
much about books as Hamish."
"Is Hamish a
scholar, then?"
"No, but he's
been helping father buy the books since we were little. Hamish
has a gallery and he mostly deals in paintings."
Laura took a
sheet from her notebook and began to write, glancing up
apologetically at Ellen, and self-conscious about keeping her
waiting. But Ellen simply sat down across from her, elbows on
the table and chin in her hands. She had the same blue eyes as
Hamish and a smaller, more refined version of his nose.
"There," said
Laura, and folded the paper, placing it on top of the twin
volumes and holding them out to Ellen. "Thank you. And please
tell Mr. Porteous how delighted I am to have this chance to
consult his collection. It is truly a privilege."
Ellen accepted
the books from her hands, nodded gravely, and turned to walk
from the room, affording Laura a view of her shapely posterior.
The next day,
when she returned, she found the Horace back on the library
table with a note and a thin envelope tucked inside the first
volume.
Miss Livingston, I am
pleased that you are able to make use of my little collection.
I only regret that it is not possible at the moment for me to
meet you in person. Your mentor John Tiernan is a dear friend
of mine, and I hope you will send him my warmest regards.
These volumes were purchased in 1980 at a Sotheby's auction.
Why the Pine was omitted at the time my catalog was drawn up
in 2008, I do not know. You should be able to locate the
auction record, for it was a well-known sale, George
Patterson's estate. I purchased the volumes based on their
possible association value, in spite of their less than
desirable condition. I have always cherished the hope that the
Pine may once have belonged to Pope, as Patterson was related
to the Blount family. No doubt you will have seen that there
is no ownership inscription. And now, my friend, I wonder if I
could prevail upon you to do me the favor of posting the
enclosed letter. I am quite particularly anxious that it leave
the house today, and would be very grateful should you choose
to indulge an old man in his fancies. Yours, Alexander
Porteous.
Laura felt her
heart begin to pound as she read the note. One of her passions
was the (usually futile) pursuit of books Alexander Pope might
have owned. Martha Blount had been an intimate confidante and
friend of Pope almost his entire life. Indeed, it was once
rumored that they were lovers, though most scholars believed
that the friendship was chaste and that Pope was largely
celibate. In his will, he allowed Martha the first pick of his
library, three score of books, before the rest were turned over
to his literary executor. Next, she examined the letter. The
envelope itself was plain, and there was no return address. The
intended recipient was one John Curtis, Esq., on Furnival Street
in London.
Laura wondered
which day Mr. Porteous had meant when he wrote that he wanted
the letter posted "today." In any event, she must do all she
could to honor his
father's books. And you're Ellen, right?" Ellen nodded.
"I haven't met
your father yet. Do you think that would be possible?"
Ellen looked
troubled. "I'm not sure. He's been very ill. Hamish says he
shouldn't see anyone but us, as it might tire him too much. He's
eighty-five, you know."
"I see. In that
case I won't ask to see him. But my problem is that these books
aren't in the catalog, and I want very much to learn where he
bought them. Do you think he would mind if I wrote him a note,
and you took it up to him with the books?"
"Oh, I think he
would like it of all things. He never gets to talk to anyone
about books now. I bring him things from the library when he
wants them, and I talk to him sometimes, but I don't know as
much about books as Hamish."
"Is Hamish a
scholar, then?"
"No, but he's
been helping father buy the books since we were little. Hamish
has a gallery and he mostly deals in paintings."
Laura took a
sheet from her notebook and began to write, glancing up
apologetically at Ellen, and self-conscious about keeping her
waiting. But Ellen simply sat down across from her, elbows on
the table and chin in her hands. She had the same blue eyes as
Hamish and a smaller, more refined version of his nose.
"There," said
Laura, and folded the paper, placing it on top of the twin
volumes and holding them out to Ellen. "Thank you. And please
tell Mr. Porteous how delighted I am to have this chance to
consult his collection. It is truly a privilege."
Ellen accepted
the books from her hands, nodded gravely, and turned to walk
from the room, affording Laura a view of her shapely posterior.
The next day,
when she returned, she found the Horace back on the library
table with a note and a thin envelope tucked inside the first
volume.
Miss Livingston, I am
pleased that you are able to make use of my little collection.
I only regret that it is not possible at the moment for me to
meet you in person. Your mentor John Tiernan is a dear friend
of mine, and I hope you will send him my warmest regards.
These volumes were purchased in 1980 at a Sotheby's auction.
Why the Pine was omitted at the time my catalog was drawn up
in 2008, I do not know. You should be able to locate the
auction record, for it was a well-known sale, George
Patterson's estate. I purchased the volumes based on their
possible association value, in spite of their less than
desirable condition. I have always cherished the hope that the
Pine may once have belonged to Pope, as Patterson was related
to the Blount family. No doubt you will have seen that there
is no ownership inscription. And now, my friend, I wonder if I
could prevail upon you to do me the favor of posting the
enclosed letter. I am quite particularly anxious that it leave
the house today, and would be very grateful should you choose
to indulge an old man in his fancies. Yours, Alexander
Porteous.
Laura felt her
heart begin to pound as she read the note. One of her passions
was the (usually futile) pursuit of books Alexander Pope might
have owned. Martha Blount had been an intimate confidante and
friend of Pope almost his entire life. Indeed, it was once
rumored that they were lovers, though most scholars believed
that the friendship was chaste and that Pope was largely
celibate. In his will, he allowed Martha the first pick of his
library, three score of books, before the rest were turned over
to his literary executor. Next, she examined the letter. The
envelope itself was plain, and there was no return address. The
intended recipient was one John Curtis, Esq., on Furnival Street
in London.
Laura wondered
which day Mr. Porteous had meant when he wrote that he wanted
the letter posted "today." In any event, she must do all she
could to honor his
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