Winter Is Past by Ruth Axtell Morren Page B

given over to floor-to-ceiling bookshelves made of dark oak. She began examining the bookshelves, looking for a classification system. She found histories; biographies; works in Latin, Greek and Hebrew, which made her wish she could spend a few hours in that section; another section devoted to novels, including many of the newest; stacks and stacks of old issues of The Times and The Observer as well as the newer more radical publications like Cobbett’s Political Register. There were countless political and philosophical tomes. Althea also came upon a stack of pamphlets containing Simon’s name. Curious, she riffled through these, reading the various titles he had authored: factory reform, parliamentary reform, arguments in favor of a minimum wage, abolition of the tithe. The topics sounded altogether radical for a member of the Tory party. She placed them back in a neat stack.
    Althea ran her fingers one last, lingering time over the spines of the books. The wisdom of humanity contained in a roomful of shelves, she mused, craning her neck upward. Solomon had written, “Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom….” But he had also begun the book of Proverbs with the preface “…the fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge.”
    Althea considered all the knowledge Simon had extracted from these centuries of human understanding and knowledge. But one thing he lacked, she thought, paraphrasing Jesus’s words to the rich young man: the fear of the Lord, and without that, all the rest of the wisdom was in vain.
    She finally spied copies of both Debrett’s Peerage and Baronetage. They were placed in an area with some copies of The Morning Post, The Court Guide and The Royalist, a periodical known for its scandals and on dits. Clearly, Mrs. Coates’s opinion that Simonknew nothing of society was ill-formed, Althea thought as she picked up one of the two volumes on family names and genealogies.
    The rest of the afternoon was spent with Mrs. Coates, pairing off ladies and gentlemen for the dinner party, deciding who would escort whom into the dining room and where they would be seated.
    â€œOh, dear, Mrs. Coates, there is a surplus of gentlemen,” Althea said, looking at the invitations laid out in two groupings.
    â€œDon’t suppose he knows many society ladies. As I said, he’s lived a very quiet life ’til recently, mostly working in Parliament and visitin’ his family. He’s brought gentlemen ’round now and then for a bite to eat and game of whist.” She eyed the scented note. “Never known him to entertain a female, leastways not here in his home.”
    â€œWell, we shall just have to do the best we can with what we have. Perhaps some replies will still come in.”
    As she located the family names in the books, she remembered more and more of the details from her two London Seasons. In the end there were only a few she didn’t know what to do with. She supposed they might be colleagues of Simon’s.
    â€œI think we have done all we can this afternoon. You shall just have to consult Mr. Aguilar about these remaining names. You can show him our chart and he can pencil them in where he deems appropriate.” She considered. “Perhaps I shall mention to him the imbalance in the number of ladies and gentlemen.”
    â€œOh, very good, miss.” Mrs. Coates stood as soon as Althea did, her face troubled. “You don’t think he’ll mind that we moved Lady Stanton-Lewis, do you?”
    â€œDon’t trouble yourself about it. I’m sure he’ll understand that we had no choice in the matter, with a duke outranking a baron. If he has any objections, tell him to see me about it. Now, have you had a chance to review the menu?”
    â€œNo, miss. But, if you have a moment, perhaps we could go down now and consult with Cook?”
    â€œLet me see if Rebecca is awake. I shall join you in the