Page 3 of An Inventor and An Inconvenience (Gentleman Scholars #5)

T he morning light streamed through the breakfast room windows, catching the steam rising from Professor Somerton's tea cup and transforming it into ghostly shapes that danced in the air. Faith watched as her father absently buttered his toast, his attention fixed on the scientific journal propped against the teapot.

The familiar scene brought both comfort and frustration—their daily ritual of shared silence and unspoken boundaries.

The scent of the fresh bread mingled with her morning chocolate, a most decadent perfume filling the air. Faith enjoyed the sound of morning birdsong drifting in through the slightly opened window; it provided a cheerful counterpoint to the rustle of her father's journal pages.

Faith's fingers itched to reach for Adriana's letter, tucked safely in her pocket, but she forced herself to maintain the pretence of a normal breakfast.

"Fascinating," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "The implications for molecular theory..."

"What implications, Father?" The words slipped out before Faith could stop them.

To her surprise, her father's eyes lit up. "Well, you see, they've discovered—" He launched into an explanation, hands gesturing animatedly as he described the latest scientific breakthrough. Faith leaned forward, drinking in every word, her heart swelling with the rare pleasure of open discourse with him.

Then, mid-sentence, the professor seemed to catch himself. His hands dropped to his lap, and his expression shifted from enthusiasm to discomfort.

"But never mind all that. Have you seen to the menu for next week's faculty dinner?"

Faith's throat tightened. The familiar disappointment settled in her chest like a physical weight.

"Yes, Father. Cook and I discussed it yesterday."

"Good, good." He returned to his journal, but the earlier animation was gone, replaced by a studied distance. "And the linens need pressing, no doubt.”

"Already arranged." Faith pushed her eggs around her plate, appetite gone. "Though if you'd like to finish explaining about the molecular theory—"

"Faith." Her father's voice held a warning note, though she caught something else in his expression – regret, perhaps? "You know such matters aren't... appropriate."

"Because I'm a woman?" The words came out sharper than intended.

Professor Somerton lowered his journal with a sigh. "Because it is the way of things. I've already indulged your education far more than is proper."

"Indulged?" Faith set down her fork. "Is that what you call allowing me to learn in secret? Pretending not to notice when I listen at lecture hall doors? Being careful never to acknowledge anything I might have learned?"

Her father's face softened momentarily.

"My dear..." He reached across the table as if to take her hand, then seemed to think better of it. "You are my daughter, and I... I want what's best for you."

"What's best for me, or what's easiest for you?"

The moment the words left her mouth, Faith wished she could take them back. Her father's face closed off entirely.

"I believe we're finished here." He stood, gathering his journal. "Do see to those linens, won't you?"

Faith watched him leave, blinking back tears of frustration. Just before he reached the door, he paused.

"That piece you asked about," he said quietly, still facing away from her. "The implications for molecular theory. There's a more detailed explanation in my copy of Quarterly Review. Third shelf, behind Paley's Natural Theology."

Then he was gone, leaving Faith to wonder, as she so often did, whether her father was her greatest ally or her greatest obstacle in the pursuit of knowledge.

She didn’t bother telling him she had already read both the Quarterly Review and the journal he had been perusing that morning. He wouldn’t have appreciated it. And he would have been even less inclined to tell her his thoughts on the matter.

At least now that he’d invited her to read it, there was a better chance of the conversation going well the next time. Maybe.

Faith retreated to the garden, her pruning shears in hand. It was her favourite place for thinking. Despite her love for her father’s library, she occasionally felt it was too overbearing for any of her thoughts that could be considered flightier than usual. This was one of them.

Could she really consider herself a scholar? Could she really help the scientists find this treasure they were searching for?

She truly didn’t see how the treasure could be the lost library from Oxford. She honestly believed she had personally climbed over every possible inch of building and land the university had to offer. But with these new clues, she was willing to do it all over again.

A thrill shivered through her. Surely the university would have to respect her if she was able to assist in finding a treasure. She didn’t know if that respect would extend so far as allowing her to become a student—not an official one—but perhaps they would allow her to sit in on some of the classes.

That’s all she asked. All she truly wanted was an education. Why should that be restricted only to the males of the species?

Faith's shears moved with precision, each cut calculated despite her tumultuous thoughts. The rose bush before her had grown wild, its branches reaching in all directions — not unlike her own quest for knowledge, she thought wryly. Sometimes growth needed guidance to achieve its full potential.

As she worked, she mentally reviewed the passage from Adriana's letter.

"In shadows deep where secrets sleep..."

The words had seemed familiar when she first read them, and now, looking at the way shadows played across the garden wall, she wondered if they might be more literal than metaphorical. Oxford had no shortage of deep shadows, especially in its oldest buildings.

She pulled Adriana's letter from her pocket, careful to keep it hidden behind the rose bush. The paper was already creased from multiple readings, but she needed to check something. Yes—there it was. The peculiar way Adriana had underlined certain words reminded her of a pattern she'd seen in one of her father's old texts, the one about medieval architecture—

A movement at the library window made her hastily tuck the letter away.

Professor Hartford was visiting her father again, no doubt to discuss the upcoming faculty dinner. Faith smiled grimly. If they only knew that while they debated place settings, she was hunting for a treasure that could change everything.

She turned back to her pruning, but now she saw the garden differently. Every shadow, every ancient wall, every worn stone path could be hiding something. The roses weren't the only things in Oxford that needed careful tending to reveal their true nature.

Faith sighed and shook off the disquieting thought as she returned to pruning the shrub in front of her. The mundane task would surely allow her thoughts to settle into the right place. Faith wasn’t sure if she would have time to further pursue the clue Adriana had sent her.

With her father’s favourite student coming to visit, she was going to have to play hostess. It was surely going to addle her brain considering the animosity and jealousy she felt toward Lord Jasper Linford.

Of course, Lord Jasper didn’t even know she existed, so her negative feelings toward him didn’t impact him at all. That was the frustrating part about a grudge—usually the one to whom it was directed was barely even aware.

Her father knew, though. That was the hurtful part. He found it amusing and didn’t even consider not asking the man to visit. Surely, he does love me, though—he’s my father , Faith insisted to herself.

Faith pushed the unhelpful and unpleasant thoughts aside.

She had already planned out the meals and gone to the market, so she didn’t have to give much thought to their upcoming guest. Instead, she would rather give thought to Adriana’s letter and the clues she had shared.

Faith needed to write back and ask a few more questions, as well as tell Adriana what she had discovered in her father's papers. She would outline for Adriana what she would do next with the latest clue.

Faith would have to begin her search again, considering that some of the property she hadn’t been to for quite some time, and certainly not looking at it from the perspective of finding any sort of treasure.

My dearest Lady Beaverbrook,

I am happy to report that your letter was helpful, and I had equally helpful information at my fingertips. Between the two pieces, I have every intention of resuming the search. Thank you for sending me the quotation. If you have any more that might be relevant, please do forward it at your earliest convenience.

On a different note, a friend of your husband is coming to visit. Lord Jasper Linford. Does he know about the search? Ought I to include him in the information or keep it in strictest confidence?

I do so wish you could come to this fine town in person. Despite how stodgy they are about women, you would be surprised at how beautiful the city is. I’m also making progress on the curriculum I’m hoping to start sharing shortly. I have already put out word that I am searching for any small girl who might be interested.

I trust you are well, and I send you all my best.

Faith wrinkled her nose as she thought of the words she wished to write to her friend.

They sounded so stilted, but she wasn’t sure who might see her letter, and she feared what might happen if anyone knew what she was planning. It wasn’t the best way to cultivate a relationship, but she didn’t have much choice unless the lady were to come visit or Faith could go to her.

That would be decadent—a luxury her father was unlikely to afford her, considering his reliance on her housekeeping abilities.

Faith shook her head. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t afford to hire a housekeeper, but why should he spend his blunt when it seemed to him her only use was to keep his house? Faith took a deep breath and stilled her hands. She was clipping far too much off the plant she was pruning, and it was likely to be bald shortly if she didn’t contain her roiling emotions.

She would have to go for a walk before Lord Jasper arrived, or she was likely to be unpleasant to him, considering she expected him to be just like her father. His being a scholar was unlikely to have turned him into a progressive thinker, considering much of his education was from this fine establishment.

Faith wondered if his lordship would even tell her about his studies. That might make her resentment worse. Maybe not. She would happily exchange keeping house for him if he would further her education at least a little bit.

“Faith, come in now! You’re going to catch your death of cold if you stay out there in the dew!”

Faith rolled her eyes. For such a well-educated man, he really was stuck on old wives' tales. But she wasn’t about to start arguing with the older man now.

Still, his interruption had forced her to confront the decision before her: how much should she risk in pursuit of this treasure?

The answer came as she gathered her gardening tools, watching the morning light play across the rose petals. Some questions were worth any risk—especially when they might lead to the kind of treasure that could change lives through education. Her father's disapproval, Lord Jasper's potential scepticism, even the university's restrictions... none of it outweighed the possibility of recovering lost knowledge.

Standing, Faith brushed dirt from her skirts and squared her shoulders. She would find a way to work with Lord Jasper if necessary, navigate her father's protective instincts, and most importantly, help Adriana uncover whatever had been hidden in Oxford's shadows all these years.

After all, she thought with a small smile, roses weren't the only things that bloomed best with careful tending and patience. Sometimes knowledge, too, needed time and nurturing to flourish in unexpected places.

Later that morning, Faith paused in her dusting as Lucy, their young housemaid, struggled to read the label on a cleaning bottle. The girl's finger traced each letter slowly, her lips moving silently. The sight strengthened Faith's resolve—here was living proof of why their quest mattered.

"Would you like help with that?" Faith asked gently.

Lucy startled, nearly dropping the bottle. "Oh no, miss. I wouldn't want to trouble you."

"It's no trouble.” Faith moved closer, her voice soft. “I could show you how to sound out the words properly."

It didn’t take long to help the young maid, but it left Faith deep in thought.

As she helped Lucy decipher the label, Faith's mind returned to the lost library, to Adriana's letter, to the possibilities that lay ahead. Every small step toward knowledge, whether helping a maid read or searching for lost texts, was part of the same vital mission.

After helping Lucy decipher the label, Faith found herself thinking about how many other young women might be hungry for such basic knowledge. Perhaps she didn't need to wait for some grand school—she could start small, with just one student.