Page 27 of An Inventor and An Inconvenience (Gentleman Scholars #5)

T he library's shadows lengthened as Faith and Meredith hunched over yet another stack of medieval texts. They had commandeered a secluded corner of the cataloguing room, where Meredith's position as assistant gave them some privacy from prying eyes.

The scent of old leather and parchment wrapped around them like a familiar blanket, though today it carried an extra edge of excitement.

"Look at this," Faith whispered, carefully turning a brittle page in the volume before her. "Another reference to the 'Chamber of Wisdom' — that's the third we've found this week. And see how it mentions 'roses weeping in moonlight' again?"

Meredith leaned closer, her spectacles catching the late afternoon light.

"The phrasing is too similar to be coincidence. But what's truly fascinating is the context." She pulled out her carefully organized notes. "Every mention of these chambers appears in texts from just before the papal rejection. Almost as though..."

"As though someone was leaving breadcrumbs," Faith finished. "Creating a way for future scholars to find what they were about to hide."

The two women shared a look of understanding. They had been friends since childhood, united by their hunger for knowledge and their frustration with the artificial barriers Society placed around it. Now, that shared passion might help them uncover something extraordinary.

"Here's what I don't understand," Meredith said, pushing a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. "Why hide these texts in the first place? The papal rejection was primarily about religious doctrine, not secular learning."

Faith sat back, considering. "Unless... unless these texts contained something more dangerous than religious disagreement. Something that challenged the very foundations of how knowledge was controlled."

Meredith's eyes widened. "Like evidence that women were once accepted as scholars?"

"Exactly." Faith pulled out her mother's journal, its pages worn from constant reference. "Look at what Mother wrote here about the university's earliest days. She found references to female students in the original charter documents, but those passages were later struck through or removed entirely."

"That would explain why the texts were hidden rather than destroyed," Meredith mused. "Someone wanted to preserve the truth for a time when it might be accepted again."

Faith nodded eagerly. "And not just about women scholars. Look at these margin notes — they mention 'wisdom seekers of all stations.' Mother thought it meant Oxford once accepted students regardless of class or gender."

"Which would completely undermine the current system of restricted access to education." Meredith's voice held a mixture of excitement and concern. "No wonder someone wants these texts to stay hidden. Have you had any more threatening notes?"

"Not since Jasper helped install the warning systems," Faith said. "Though Professor Reynolds still watches the old library wing like a hawk."

Meredith began organizing their findings into neat categories — a habit from her cataloguing work that had proved invaluable in their research. "We need to be systematic about this. If we're right about what these texts contain, we can't risk missing anything important."

She drew out a fresh sheet of paper, creating columns with her precise handwriting.

"Let's map every reference we've found. Physical locations mentioned, symbolic language used, dates of documents..." Her quill moved swiftly. "And most importantly, any mention of previous female scholars or common students."

Faith watched her friend work, grateful once again for Meredith's methodical mind. Where Faith tended to follow intuitive leaps, Meredith could organize scattered evidence into clear patterns. Together, they made a formidable research team.

"There's something else," Faith said slowly, pulling out Adriana's latest letter. "Lady Beaverbrook mentioned hearing rumours about similar hidden chambers at Cambridge. What if this wasn't just about Oxford? What if there was a broader network of scholars trying to preserve knowledge during times of restriction?"

Meredith's quill paused.

"That would explain some of these cross-references. See here?" She pointed to a notation in one of the older texts. "It mentions 'sister repositories of wisdom' at multiple locations. I assumed it was metaphorical, but if there really was a network..."

"Then what we're uncovering isn't just about Oxford's past," Faith finished. "It's about proving that education was once more inclusive throughout England. That the current restrictions are innovations, not traditions."

"Which makes our discoveries even more dangerous to those who benefit from keeping knowledge restricted." Meredith's expression grew serious. "Faith, if we're right about this, we need to be incredibly careful about how we proceed. It's not just about finding hidden books anymore."

Faith nodded, understanding the weight of what they were undertaking. "We need to document everything meticulously. Create multiple copies of our findings, store them in different locations. And most importantly..."

"Find a way to use this knowledge to effect real change," Meredith finished. "Not just prove that women were once allowed to study, but demonstrate why they should be allowed again."

They worked in comfortable silence for a while, recording their discoveries and cross-referencing different texts. The library's shadows deepened around them, but neither woman noticed the passing time, too absorbed in their task.

"Look at this," Meredith said suddenly. "A passage about teaching methods used for common students. It describes using practical demonstrations to explain complex concepts — almost exactly like what you're doing with Jasper's mechanical models."

Faith leaned over to examine the text. "You're right! And see how they emphasize connecting theoretical knowledge to practical applications? That's precisely what we're trying to do with the technical training program."

"It's as though we're recreating something that was lost," Meredith mused. "Finding our way back to educational principles that were once considered natural before artificial barriers were erected."

A sound from the main library made them both freeze. Footsteps approached their secluded corner, and Meredith quickly covered their most revealing documents with more mundane cataloguing work.

Professor Hawkins appeared between the shelves, his sharp eyes taking in their studious postures. "Still at your cataloguing, Miss Silver? Though I don't recall requesting assistance from Miss Somerton."

"I'm helping with some translations," Faith said smoothly. "Father mentioned that the library needed help with some older texts."

Hawkins' gaze lingered on their carefully arranged papers. "Indeed. How... dedicated of you. Though surely such work could wait for more suitable hours? The light is failing."

"We were just finishing, sir," Meredith said, rising with perfect professional composure. "I'll have the cataloguing completed by tomorrow."

After Hawkins departed, Faith and Meredith shared a speaking look.

"He suspects something," Faith whispered.

"Of course he does," Meredith replied calmly. "Men like Reynolds always suspect when women show too much interest in scholarly matters. But suspicion isn't proof, and we're being careful."

They gathered their materials, each taking a different set of notes to preserve in separate locations. As they prepared to part ways, Meredith caught Faith's arm.

"What we're discovering," she said softly, "it's not just about the past. Every text we find that proves women were once accepted as scholars, every document that shows education was once more inclusive — it's ammunition for changing things now."

Faith squeezed her friend's hand. "We'll find a way to use it. The technical training program is already pushing boundaries. If we can prove that Oxford itself once supported broader access to education..."

"Then we're not advocating for revolution," Meredith finished. "Just a return to the university's true principles."

They parted ways in the gathering dusk, each carrying precious documents and even more precious hope. The treasure they sought wasn't just gold or books — it was proof that knowledge didn't have to be bound by class or gender, that learning could be a light for all minds to follow.

Later that evening, Faith added their latest findings to her carefully coded research journal. Each discovery felt like another piece of a vast puzzle, slowly revealing a picture of what education could be — what it had been before artificial barriers were erected.

She thought of her students at the technical training academy, of how eagerly they absorbed knowledge once considered beyond their station. Perhaps they weren't so different from the common scholars mentioned in these ancient texts, seeking understanding despite Society's restrictions.

The candle burned low as Faith wrote, recording not just their discoveries but her hopes for how they might use them. Somewhere in Oxford's walls, hidden chambers still waited to be found. And in those chambers lay not just books, but proof that education could be different — that it had been different before.

Faith smiled as she wrote the final lines in her journal. They would find those chambers, recover those texts, and use them to light the way forward. After all, some treasures were worth any risk — especially when they could help unlock minds long kept in darkness.

But first, they needed to decode more of those ancient clues. Tomorrow, she and Meredith would return to their research, piecing together the breadcrumbs left by long-ago scholars who had faced similar battles. Together, they would uncover not just hidden knowledge, but hidden hope for a future where learning knew no bounds.

The candle guttered out, leaving Faith in darkness. But she didn't mind. Sometimes the best discoveries were made in shadows, and she and Meredith had become quite adept at finding light in unexpected places.

~~~~

Faith stared at the latest threatening note, recognition finally dawning. "The handwriting — it's disguised, but look at how the 'F's are formed. I've seen this before. I recognize it not just from the school threats, but from the warnings we received when we started investigating the old library wing."

Jasper leaned closer. "In Professor Reynolds' criticism of my presentation?"

"Exactly."

Faith pulled out the earlier notes from her desk – those threatening her school and those warning them away from the treasure hunt.

"He's been trying to stop both our endeavours from the beginning — the questions about the old library wing, the sudden interest in servant gatherings. Look at how the same phrases appear in both sets of notes – ‘disruption of the natural order, ‘proper social distinctions’…"

"Because he knew if we found the hidden texts, if we proved that Oxford once encouraged learning regardless of status..." Jasper's eyes hardened. "It would undermine everything he stands for. The lost texts could prove Oxford once embraced broader learning, while your school demonstrates that understanding isn’t limited by class or gender."

When they confronted Reynolds in his office the next morning, he merely raised an eyebrow at their evidence. "Anonymous threatening notes? Really, Miss Somerton. A rather dramatic accusation without proof."

"The handwriting analysis is quite conclusive," Faith said, laying out her careful comparison. " But more interesting is how you chose to threaten us differently depending on which secret you were trying to protect. For the school, you focused on social propriety. For the treasure hunt..."

She pulled out the other set of notes. "You warned about 'dangerous historical irregularities' that should remain buried."

Reynolds' fingers drummed against his desk. "Even if I did write these perfectly reasonable warnings, what exactly do you hope to achieve by confronting me?"

"We thought you might be interested in this." Jasper pulled out two items: the medieval text they'd discovered about spreading knowledge beyond traditional boundaries, and a register showing women had once studied at Oxford. "Historical proof that the university's true tradition was one of inclusion, not exclusion."

"You don't understand what you're meddling with," he said finally, his voice dropping. "Some truths are buried for good reason."

"What reason could possibly justify threatening young women who just want to learn?" Faith demanded.

Reynolds stood abruptly, moving to look out his window at the college grounds below. For a moment, he seemed to be seeing something entirely different.

"My grandmother was brilliant," he said unexpectedly, his voice distant.

"She taught herself mathematics, astronomy, three languages... all while managing her husband's household. She applied to study here under a male pseudonym. When they discovered she was a woman, they didn't just reject her — they publicly humiliated her."

He turned back to face them, something raw in his expression. "The scandal destroyed her family. My grandfather abandoned them. She spent the rest of her life in poverty and obscurity, her mind wasted on mending and cooking."

"And that's why you're trying to stop us?" Faith asked, bewildered. "Because of what happened to your grandmother?"

"Because nothing has changed!" Reynolds slammed his hand on the desk. "Oxford isn't ready to acknowledge women as scholars. Society isn't ready. Your little school, these books you've found — they're dangerous illusions. They'll give these girls hope, make them reach for something Society will never let them have. And when they're inevitably rejected, they'll face the same humiliation, the same destruction my grandmother did."

"Or they'll be the ones who finally change things," Jasper said quietly.

Reynolds laughed bitterly.

"Do you think you're the first idealists to try? There have been others before you. My grandmother wasn't the only one. Their stories were buried, their efforts forgotten."

He gestured at the ancient text. "These hidden chambers you've found — they're proof of previous failures, not encouragement for future attempts."

Faith stepped forward, meeting his gaze directly.

"No. They're proof that the truth can survive even when people try to bury it. Your grandmother's story didn't end with her rejection — it continues through you, through what you know about her."

"What good did knowledge do her?" Reynolds demanded.

"What good would ignorance have done?" Faith countered. "Would she have been happier never knowing what her mind was capable of? Never experiencing the joy of learning, even if it was later denied her?"

Reynolds stared at her, something shifting in his expression.

"You remind me of her," he said finally. "The same stubborn determination. She used to say knowledge was worth any price."

"It is," Faith said softly. "But it shouldn't have to come at such a cost. That's what we're trying to change."

"Those are still irrelevant artifacts," Reynolds said dismissively, though his eyes fixed hungrily on the ancient volumes, his expression flickering between scholarly interest and what appeared to be genuine fear. "Remnants of a disordered time best forgotten. Hardly relevant to modern educational standards."

"On the contrary." Lord Ashworth's voice made them all turn. He stood in the doorway, several distinguished board members behind him. "I believe this proves Oxford has a long tradition of educational innovation. One we intend to continue supporting."

The colour drained from Reynolds' face. "My lords, I was merely trying to maintain proper—"

"Proper what?" Lord Ashworth cut in mildly. "Proper suppression of knowledge? Proper intimidation of those seeking to learn?" He gestured to the text in Jasper's hands. "Your own predecessors argued against such artificial limitations. Rather effectively, I might add."

"We're not here to demand punishment," Faith said quietly. "Only to show you that what we're doing – both the school and recovering these texts — isn't a threat to Oxford's traditions. It's a return to them."

Reynolds stared at the medieval register showing women scholars for a long moment, his expression conflicted. Finally, he seemed to deflate slightly. "The university board appears to have already made its decision regarding both matters," he said stiffly. "I suppose I must... adapt to changing times."

"Change can be difficult," Lord Ashworth agreed. "But fighting against the spread of knowledge has rarely proven a winning strategy in the long run."

As they left Reynolds' office, Faith felt lighter, as though a shadow had lifted. One more obstacle overcome, one more proof that knowledge, once revealed, couldn't easily be hidden again. The threats to both her school and their historical discoveries had come from the same source – and now that source had been neutralized.

"Rather convenient timing," Jasper murmured to Lord Ashworth, "your arrival with the board members."

"Yes, wasn't it?" Ashworth's eyes twinkled. "Almost as if someone had suggested they might find this morning's meeting particularly illuminating."

Faith squeezed Jasper's hand, grateful once again for their growing network of allies. The path forward wouldn't be entirely smooth, but they'd faced down one of their strongest opponents and emerged stronger for it.

More importantly, they’d proven that their two quests – recovering Oxford’s lost knowledge and creating new opportunities for learning – were really one and the same.