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

F aith wasn’t sure how her father would react to her presence during his discussion with Lord Jasper. She'd earned the right to serve refreshments, of course—that much was expected—but actually participating in the conversation was likely to provoke resistance from the ornery old professor.

As expected, Faith brought in the tea tray and busied herself with the service, using the familiar ritual to calm her nerves. She listened intently as the gentlemen began discussing Lord Jasper's invention, her ears practically straining for any mention that might lead naturally to the topic of the lost library and Lord Jasper’s friends’ search. She couldn’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation even as her fingers trembled slightly against the fine China of the tea service.

Professor Somerton seemed intrigued but not particularly helpful, much to Faith’s shock. Not that she had ever sat in on his meetings before, but considering how much he gushed about this particular student, Faith would have expected him to be far more supportive of the gentleman’s work.

She glanced around the room, wishing she had tidied up more considering the disarray, but she knew her father wouldn’t appreciate her interference with his work. Any open book was not to be touched.

She wasn’t sure what he was working on at the moment, but it was obviously something important. It hadn’t been this much of a mess two days ago when she was last in there, but that wasn’t helpful now. His books and papers were his concern, not hers.

The study was even more chaotic than usual, with papers and books scattered everywhere. Her father kept glancing at a particular stack of correspondence on his desk, his usual sharp focus clearly divided.

"It'll never work," Professor Somerton said distractedly, barely glancing at Jasper's device.

The words fell like stones in the quiet room.

Then, seeing the hurt on his former student's face, he seemed to catch himself. "At least, not with the current configuration. The pressure distribution needs significant refinement."

Faith frowned. What good did it do, to criticize without offering constructive suggestions?

Faith knew her father had been wrestling with the university board over funding for his own research. His latest proposal had been rejected just yesterday—perhaps that explained his uncharacteristic curtness with his usually favoured student.

"Do you have a better suggestion?" she asked her father softly, surprised by her own boldness but unable to ignore the hurt she had seen flash across Jasper’s face before he could mask it.

Fear and eagerness warred within her; she knew her father wouldn’t appreciate her interference, but how could he leave the poor young man without any assistance?

The fierce frown directed her way let her know that Professor Somerton was close to sending her from the room, but he didn’t do so, so she remained. Faith perched herself on the edge of a chair after distributing the tea and waited to see what would happen.

"I’m certain there’s a way to make it work," Lord Jasper said, his voice steady despite the tension Faith could see in his shoulders. "I know the mechanisms are too delicate for the work I want them to do, but surely there must be a way."

Both gentlemen frowned over his notes and the small prototype he had brought with him. Faith's fingers itched to reach for the drawings herself, certain she could see a solution if only she were allowed to examine them properly.

"The basic principle is sound," her father admitted, finally examining the device more closely. "But you'll need to resolve the stability issues before it's practical for mining applications. Have you considered..."

He trailed off, that distracted look returning as he glanced again at his desk. Faith saw her opportunity and seized it.

"Are you using steel?" Faith asked tentatively, when it was obvious her father had nothing else to say. "Obviously not on this small prototype, but on your actual device."

"Steel?" her father yelped. "That’s as inferior a product as there ever was."

Faith didn’t bother arguing with her father, but she could feel Jasper’s eyes on her. She didn’t meet his gaze, uncertain whether she'd find dismissal or interest there. He was probably wondering why she was still in the room, despite his having agreed to it.

Even though he had agreed she could be present, he likely thought she would keep her mouth shut, but that was too difficult for her, obviously. She almost snorted a laugh but knew that would certainly get her ejected from the room. She settled back in her chair and waited again to see what would develop.

Of course, after her father’s reaction to her question, Lord Jasper didn’t respond to her question about steel. She stifled her sigh and tolerated the rest of the visit.

Faith frowned at her father's unusual lack of enthusiasm. Normally he would be peppering Jasper with questions, suggesting improvements, drawing diagrams. Something was clearly weighing on his mind, though she knew better than to ask what in front of company.

“It’ll never work, Jasper, my boy. You’ve been working on some sort of mining device ever since you came up to Oxford. Isn’t it time for you to turn your brilliant mind to something else? Surely the Marquess has assured you the way they’ve been doing it since the beginning of time is how they’re going to continue to do it.”

Faith frowned over the professor’s words but managed to keep her gasp silent. She watched their visitor for a reaction.

“But isn’t the whole point of Oxford and higher learning to challenge the way things have always been done?” Lord Jasper asked in a quiet, almost meek voice.

Faith would have expected him to rail at the professor; her frown remained.

“Not necessarily,” Professor Somerton said, distant and dismissive. “I haven’t time to study this further today, Linford, you’ll have to come back another day.”

After Jasper had departed, Faith found her father still in his study, pouring over what appeared to be financial documents.

"I apologize if I seemed abrupt earlier," he said without looking up. "Lord Jasper's device has genuine potential, but my mind was elsewhere. Perhaps you could encourage him to return next week when I can give it proper attention?"

Faith nodded, understanding now. The university's budget cuts were affecting everyone, even her usually unflappable father.

She quietly bustled about, clearing up the remnants of the short visit while her father stared off into the middle distance.

She loved this room, but it never failed to make her uncomfortable as well.

It was her father’s favourite place, where he studied, where he poured over his lesson plans for his students, and where he met with those same students. And if he was feeling generous, it was where he would teach her something—but those times were becoming increasingly rare.

Faith was becoming more secretive about her own studies, considering how the men of Oxford felt about women being educated.

Determination hardened within Faith. One day, things would be different, but for now, her pursuit of knowledge remained private. She wanted to pass what she learned to other women in the village, sparing them from exploitation and poverty that often befell uneducated women.

She wasn't truly subversive - she had no interest in marching or distributing pamphlets. She simply believed that basic education would benefit everyone. A woman who could read and calculate wouldn't be cheated at market. A woman without male protection could support herself rather than becoming a burden or falling victim to harm.

What did gentlemen fear would happen if women learned about science? Their brains wouldn't melt any more than men's had. Faith sighed, knowing neither of those scholars would appreciate these thoughts.

She wondered instead if Jasper might be involved in Adriana's treasure hunt. Should she ask him directly or wait to hear from Lady Beaverbrook?

~~~~

Faith hurried through the rain-slicked streets of Oxford, clutching her shawl tightly against the damp chill.

The afternoon had turned unexpectedly dreary, matching her mood after witnessing her father's lukewarm response to Lord Jasper's invention. With Father preoccupied by potential cuts to his funding and Lord Jasper retreating to lick his wounds, Faith found herself seeking the one person who would understand her frustration.

The library's service entrance stood slightly ajar, as Faith had hoped. She slipped inside, grateful to escape the drizzle.

Unlike the grand main doors that welcomed scholars and gentlemen, this modest entrance led to the practical workings of the library—where books were repaired, catalogued, and stored. And where, if one knew where to look, one might find a young woman determinedly earning her keep through devoted service to the written word.

"Meredith?" Faith called softly as she navigated the narrow passageway between towering shelves.

A rustling sound drew her attention to a small alcove where a slender figure stood balanced precariously on a wooden step-stool, attempting to return a heavy volume to its place on the uppermost shelf.

"For heaven's sake, take care!" Faith hurried forward as the step-stool wobbled dangerously.

Meredith Silver glanced down, her serious expression blossoming into a warm smile at the sight of her oldest friend. "Faith! I didn't expect you today."

"Clearly not, or you might have waited for assistance with that rather than risking your neck," Faith replied, steadying the stool as Meredith descended.

Once safely on solid ground, Meredith embraced Faith warmly. Though only a few months older than Faith, Meredith sometimes carried herself with the gravity of someone who had seen far more of life's hardships.

The passing of her father, Professor Silver, had left subtle marks—a certain wariness around her eyes, a determination in the set of her jaw that hadn't been there before.

"What brings you out in such weather?" Meredith asked, brushing dust from her plain brown dress. Unlike Faith's modest but well-made attire, Meredith's clothes spoke of practical economy, though they were meticulously maintained.

"I desperately needed sensible conversation," Faith admitted. "And you're the only person in Oxford who reliably provides it."

Meredith laughed softly.

"High praise indeed. Though I suspect Mr. Tennyson might take exception to being outdone by a mere library assistant." She glanced around. "I've just finished reshelving this section. Let me inform Mr. Hawkins that I'm taking my afternoon break, and we can speak privately."

While Meredith went to find the head librarian, Faith wandered among the shelves, running her fingers along the leather spines. So much knowledge contained here, yet so much of it effectively barred to her and other women.

Not officially, of course—no one would admit to such discrimination outright, not any longer—but the practical barriers were just as effective as locked doors.

"All settled," Meredith announced, returning with a small brass key in hand. "Mr. Hawkins says I may use the cataloguer’s office since he's out today. We'll have privacy there."

The cataloguer’s office was hardly larger than a closet, but it offered two chairs and a small window that cast watery light over the cluttered desk. Meredith lit the lamp, bringing warmth to the austere space.

"Now," she said, settling into the wooden chair opposite Faith, "tell me what's troubling you. Is it your father again?"

Faith sighed, unwinding her damp shawl. "Partly. Something strange is happening with him. He's distracted, more than usual. There's correspondence he keeps checking, and this morning he was positively dismissive of Lord Jasper Linford's invention."

"The inventor? The one you mentioned in your note last week?" Meredith leaned forward with interest. "I thought your father was eagerly anticipating this visit from his favourite student."

"That's precisely what makes it so peculiar!" Faith exclaimed. "Father has been singing Lord Jasper's praises for years. I expected him to be thoroughly engaged with the invention, offering suggestions, discussing improvements. Instead, he barely looked at it properly before declaring it wouldn't work."

"How unusual," Meredith murmured. "And what about this Lord Jasper? Was he as insufferable as you expected?"

Faith felt heat rise to her cheeks. "That's the other strange thing. He's... not at all what I anticipated."

A knowing smile spread across Meredith's face. "Oh?"

"Don't look at me like that," Faith protested. "I simply mean he actually listened when I made suggestions about his device. He didn't dismiss me outright, even asked my opinion."

"A nobleman who doesn't immediately dismiss a woman's intellect? How revolutionary," Meredith remarked dryly. "Though I admit it's more than can be said for most of the scholars who frequent this library. If I had a penny for every time a gentleman asked me to fetch a book while explaining its contents to me as though I were a child..."

"You'd have enough to fund our school twice over," Faith finished with a wry smile.

Their shared dream hung in the air between them—a school for girls, where knowledge wouldn't be doled out in carefully measured spoonfuls but offered freely to eager minds.

They'd first conceived of it as girls of twelve, solemnly pledging to create what they had both longed for. What had begun as a childhood fantasy had, over the years, transformed into a determined ambition.

"Speaking of which," Faith continued, "how goes your mother's campaign to drag you into Society?"

Meredith grimaced. "Her latest letter arrived yesterday. Apparently, her new husband's connections include a baronet with an unmarried son who might be persuaded to overlook my 'excessive education' in light of my 'not unpleasing appearance.'"

Her voice took on the affected tones of her mother's new social circle. "How fortunate I am, to be considered marriageable despite my unfortunate tendency toward intellectual pursuits."

Faith reached across to squeeze her friend's hand. "She means well, I'm sure."

"Of course, she does," Meredith sighed. "She wants security for me, a future without depending on the charity of the university. She doesn't understand that I'd rather catalogue books for a pittance than exchange my mind for material comfort."

"How is the arrangement working? Is Mr. Hawkins treating you fairly?"

Meredith shrugged. "As fairly as can be expected. The room they've provided isn't much larger than this office, and the wage barely covers my other necessities, but I have access to books most women could never hope to touch. That counts for something."

Faith nodded, understanding perfectly. "When Father introduced me to Lord Jasper, I think he expected me to be thoroughly impressed and properly intimidated. Instead, I found myself desperately wanting to ask about the mechanical principles behind his invention."

"And did you?" Meredith's eyes sparkled with interest.

"I did! That's the remarkable thing. He not only answered but seemed genuinely interested in my perspective." Faith leaned closer, lowering her voice despite their privacy. "I suggested using steel for parts of his mechanism, and though Father scoffed, Lord Jasper actually seemed to consider it."

"Steel?" Meredith's eyebrows rose. "Where did you learn about steel's properties?"

"Professor Whitmore's lecture last winter. I stood outside in the snow for nearly two hours, listening through that draughty window on the north side of the physics hall."

Meredith shook her head. "Only you would risk pneumonia for a metallurgy lecture."

"Says the woman who regularly skips meals to finish cataloguing medieval manuscripts," Faith retorted good-naturedly.

They shared a laugh, the comfortable camaraderie of two women who understood each other's passions in a world that found them peculiar at best and dangerous at worst.

"So," Meredith said after a moment, "what do you make of Lord Jasper's reaction to your father's dismissal? Did he storm out in aristocratic dudgeon?"

"No, that's another surprising thing. He seemed genuinely hurt, not angry. As though he truly valued Father's opinion, not just as a scholar but as..." Faith hesitated, searching for the right words. "As though he were seeking approval beyond the academic."

Meredith tilted her head thoughtfully. "Interesting. Perhaps there's more to this nobleman than being a lord suggests."

"Perhaps," Faith agreed. "Though I suspect his interest in my suggestions was merely the novelty of a woman expressing knowledge of engineering principles. Like watching a dog walk on its hind legs—surprising not because it's done well, but because it's done at all."

"You underestimate yourself," Meredith chided gently. "Your understanding of mechanical principles would put many university students to shame. If he recognized that, perhaps he possesses more discernment than the average nobleman."

Faith smiled at her friend's unwavering support. Since childhood, Meredith had been her strongest advocate, never questioning Faith's intellectual capabilities even when everyone else did. They had spent countless hours huddled in corners of their fathers' studies, devouring knowledge that was supposedly beyond them, challenging each other with increasingly complex problems and questions.

"Have you made any progress with Adriana's treasure hunt?" Meredith asked, changing the subject. "Any further clues from the poem?"

Faith brightened. "Actually, yes. I found a reference to the same verse in one of Father's oldest texts on medieval Oxford. It was in his handwriting in the margin. I'm almost certain it relates to the treasure hunt."

"I hope it is the lost library you seek," Meredith breathed, her eyes alight with scholarly excitement. "Just imagine what might be preserved there—texts thought destroyed centuries ago, knowledge that could change our understanding of history."

"Knowledge that could prove women were once welcomed as scholars at Oxford," Faith added meaningfully.

It was a theory they had developed together over years of researching Oxford's history—that before the papal rejection, women had been permitted to study alongside men, only to be systematically erased from historical records afterward. If they could prove it, it would strengthen their case for women's education immeasurably.

"If we could find evidence of that..." Meredith began.

"We could use it to support our school," Faith finished. "Show that we're not proposing something radical and new, but rather returning to Oxford's original inclusive principles."

Meredith sighed wistfully. "Our school. Sometimes I fear it's as mythical as the lost library itself."

"Don't say that," Faith protested. "We're closer than ever. Lady Beaverbrook is interested in supporting us. If we can find this treasure..."

"If," Meredith echoed softly. "Such a small word to carry so much hope."

A comfortable silence fell between them, filled with shared dreams and unspoken fears. Outside, the rain continued to fall, wrapping the library in a cocoon of hushed solitude.

"I should return to my duties soon," Meredith said reluctantly. "Mr. Hawkins may be lenient, but he still expects his cataloguing to be completed."

"Of course." Faith stood, gathering her shawl. "Will you join me for dinner tomorrow? Father will be out at a faculty meeting, so we needn't worry about his disapproval of your 'unsuitable employment.'"

Meredith smiled warmly. "I'd like that very much. Perhaps you can tell me more about Lord Jasper's invention then. It sounds fascinating despite your father's assessment."

"It truly is," Faith admitted. "The principles behind the distributed pressure system are quite ingenious, though I believe it could be improved with some modifications to the grinding mechanism."

"Listen to you," Meredith teased, "discussing grinding mechanisms and pressure distribution as casually as most women discuss embroidery patterns. No wonder this lord was taken aback."

Faith laughed, though a hint of shadow crossed her face. "If only such knowledge were considered as acceptable for women as needlework. Think how much further along our understanding of the natural world might be if half the population weren't discouraged from contributing to it."

"That's precisely why our school matters," Meredith said firmly, unlocking the office door. "And why we mustn't give up on it, no matter how many obstacles are placed in our way."

As they made their way back through the library's labyrinthine shelves, Faith found her spirits considerably lifted. Whatever mysteries surrounded her father's behaviour, whatever complications might arise from Lord Jasper's presence in their home, she still had Meredith—her stalwart ally in the battle for knowledge and understanding.

"One day," Faith murmured as they reached the service entrance, "we'll walk through the front doors of this library as rightful scholars, not as a professor's daughter and a cataloguer’s assistant."

Meredith squeezed her hand.

"One day," she agreed, "we'll welcome girls through the front doors of our own school, and tell them they need never use the service entrance to knowledge again."

The rain had lightened to a gentle mist as Faith stepped outside, her determination renewed by her friend's unwavering faith. They would build their school. They would change minds. They would find a way to claim the education that should have been their birthright.

And perhaps, just perhaps, Lord Jasper Linford and his curious invention might play a role in that future neither of them could yet fully imagine.

She had no idea how that could possibly be, but if one were wishing, might as well reach all the way to the stars.