Page 8 of An Inventor and An Inconvenience (Gentleman Scholars #5)
T he morning after the faculty dinner, Faith slept later than usual but she refused to wallow in her personal knot of concerns. She had exciting work to do and she was going to get to it.
Faith spread her gathered materials across her father's desk, cross-referencing her careful notes from Adriana's letters. The two lines of poetry had initially seemed sparse, but combined with the references in the textbook she’d found in her father’s library as well as some research Meredith had helped with, a pattern was emerging.
She traced her finger down a page of architectural notes: 'Beneath the Rose Window, where shadows mark the hour.'
The phrasing was similar to the poem's 'neeth moonlit sky, the roses weep.' And here — in a chronicle of Oxford's renovation history — a reference to 'deep shadows where secrets sleep' in relation to a sealed chamber beneath the old library.
Three separate sources, spanning different periods, all using strikingly similar language to describe locations in the oldest parts of Oxford. It couldn't be coincidence.
Faith pulled out the rough map she'd been annotating, marking each reference point. The pattern suggested a specific section of the old buildings, one rarely accessed now. If she was right, the poem wasn't just pretty verse — it was a deliberately crafted clue, using phrases that would resonate with those familiar with Oxford's architectural history.
Her excitement mounted as she added another notation to her growing collection of evidence. Each piece alone might mean nothing, but together they painted a compelling picture of something deliberately hidden, waiting to be found.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.
"A letter for you, Miss," Lucy said, presenting a cream-coloured envelope bearing the now-familiar Beaverbrook seal.
Faith thanked her before eagerly breaking the seal. Adriana's elegant script filled the page:
My dear Faith,
Your last letter has caused quite a stir among our circle. Some of the scholars are disappointed to add yet another participant in our treasure hunt, but I’m glad you’ve included your friend Meredith. I trust, between the two of you, you’ll soon be well along in the search
More exciting still, Greta has uncovered another fragment that seems to match our mysterious verse:
"Golden tears from roses fall, Where ancient waters mirror all."
Does this suggest anything to you? Perhaps something near a reflection pool or old fountain? Oxford has several such features, does it not?
We are all most eager to hear what you make of this new clue. The potential discovery of lost knowledge grows more thrilling with each passing day.
Roderick sends his regards and says to tell Jasper that the scholars eagerly await news of both the mining device and any mystery treasure discoveries you might make. Apparently, the lost texts may contain early mechanical designs that would interest them both greatly.
Do write soon, my friend. Your insights prove invaluable to our search.
With warmest regards, Adriana
Faith read the letter twice more, her mind racing with possibilities. The mention of "ancient waters" immediately brought to mind the old reflecting pool behind the theology building. The original medieval structure had been converted to a decorative feature during renovations in the 1600s, but the foundation was far older.
She would need to investigate it—perhaps with Jasper, whose engineering knowledge might help identify structural anomalies. And she should write back to Adriana immediately, sharing her theory about the reflecting pool.
As she reached for a fresh sheet of paper, Faith couldn't help but smile. This treasure hunt was becoming far more than just a search for hidden books or even gold. It was a connection to like-minded souls beyond Oxford's walls, proof that her passion for knowledge was shared by others who understood its value.
She never would have thought she’d be corresponding with a countess nor scouring Oxford’s passageways for treasures.
Faith reread the letter a third time, her fingers tracing the new verse:
Golden tears from roses fall,
Where ancient waters mirror all.
She reached for her notebook, carefully copying the lines beneath the original poem Adriana had sent weeks ago:
In shadows deep where secrets sleep,
'Neeth moonlit sky, the roses weep.
Laying the two verses side by side, Faith felt a thrill of recognition. Both mentioned roses, both conveyed a sense of hidden knowledge. She began sketching a rough map of Oxford's oldest buildings, marking spots where the medieval architecture remained largely untouched.
"Roses," she murmured, tapping her pencil against the paper. "Literal roses in gardens? Or something symbolic?"
She recalled her father mentioning Oxford's oldest stained glass contained repeated rose motifs. And "ancient waters" — that had to refer to one of the old reflecting pools or water features. The one behind the theology building dated back to the 1500s, precisely the time when the lost library might have been hidden.
Faith added another notation to her growing map, drawing a line between the old library wing and the reflecting pool. The pieces were beginning to align, though she still couldn't see the complete picture. If these verses were truly directions to hidden knowledge, they were cleverly disguised indeed.
She would need to visit the old reference section again. And perhaps, she thought with a small smile, Lord Jasper's engineering perspective might prove useful in deciphering these architectural clues. Faith’s wide grin matched her excitement when Jasper entered the room.
“What have you found?” he asked with a laugh.
“I think we might have finally found the exact reference Adriana was asking about in her most recent letter.”
“Really?” he asked, his attention obviously not quite engaged in their conversation.
Faith was torn between frustration with him and understanding of his dedication.
She couldn’t help but admire his determination to find the solution to his own research problem, and the fact that she suspected his determination was somehow connected to trying to gain his father’s approval only increased her admiration and sympathy for him. He hadn’t said as much. Perhaps she had been reading too much Descartes. But it was fairly obvious a third son and seemingly studious scholar’s obsession with a mining device had to stem from something deeper than the rocks themselves.
She knew what it was to have a father who couldn’t quite be bothered.
Oh, she knew her father loved her—not that he ever said it—but he hadn’t sent her away, and for that, she was grateful. Not that there was really anywhere for him to send her, but even though he made her feel like she wasn’t quite as valuable as his students, it could have been worse.
She had seen how some of the other professors treated their daughters. Faith knew she was more important to her father than a servant, even if he sometimes treated her as his unpaid housekeeper.
She glanced back at the manuscript before her. She was almost completely certain it was referencing where she could find at least some of the lost books from Oxford.
Well, "from Oxford" wasn’t the right way to say it if they hadn’t even left the complex.
Would the community rejoice over her findings or condemn her? It had already been hundreds of years since the papacy had left England. Surely it was time to put it behind them and embrace whatever learnings had taken place beforehand.
The books weren’t at fault. Faith was certain the knowledge they contained would be of value one way or another. Perhaps the lost library was the treasure they were searching for after all.
One couldn’t argue with the fact that the clues panned out—or rather, if they did pan out. She would be beside herself with delight.
But would she tell anyone, though? She asked herself, suddenly gripped by the sense of injustice over the lack of education for females. She so wished to start a school for girls.
Adriana had indicated her intention to support Faith’s pursuit, but how would Father react? She always came back to that question. But that was a problem for another day. She had a confused scholar standing before her, obviously needing some assistance.
She was lost in these thoughts when Jasper spoke, regaining her attention. Faith examined him with a bit of a frown. It would seem he hadn’t been paying any attention when he’d spoken with her moments before.
He now seemed more engaged and ready to have a conversation with her if his watchful gaze was any indication. Faith studied him with her own brand of studious attention.
He must have come straight from his workshop — his cravat was slightly askew and there was a smudge of oil on his sleeve. Faith found herself noticing these details with surprising clarity, just as she noticed how his eyes brightened when he saw her, though he quickly schooled his expression into something more proper.
“Miss Somerton,” he said, bowing slightly. “I hope I'm not interrupting? You seemed to have quite wandered off in your thoughts.”
“Not at all,” she replied, trying to ignore how her pulse quickened at his presence.
She gestured to the chair across from her, then immediately second-guessed whether it was proper for her to invite him to sit. But he was already moving toward it, and in the process of sitting, his hand brushed against hers where it rested on the table. They both drew back quickly, murmuring apologies, but Faith could feel the ghost of that touch lingering on her skin.
“What are you searching for?” she asked him, concern filling her as he shoved his hand through his thick hair—a gesture she had noticed he often did whenever he was feeling overwhelmed or frustrated.
The poor soul seemed to experience those emotions far too often.
“It seems to me you need a break from this particular invention. I’ve found that when I have a problem I’m trying to work out, if I stop trying to think about it, somehow a different part of my brain figures it out while I’m thinking about something else. Can you do that, do you think?”
He stared at her as though she hadn’t spoken the King’s English, and Faith had to struggle not to laugh in his face. That wasn’t likely to help them have a pleasant discourse while he remained her father’s guest.
“My apologies, my lord,” Faith finally said. “I know you have your own way of pursuing your studies, and I ought to keep my nose out of your affairs. I didn’t mean to be so bold.”
“No, no, it’s me that should apologize to you, Miss Somerton. I’m just more frustrated than I thought possible. I was so sure your father would be able to help me solve my problem.”
Faith nodded, understanding his concern and frustration, but she didn’t know if she ought to tell the poor man that she didn’t think her father had been pursuing any practical industrial research of late. Would it destroy all his youthful illusions about his favourite professor if she told him? Faith bit her lip, unsure how to proceed.
“It’s still giving you trouble, then? You haven’t found a solution to the propulsion issue? Is it that your device is too heavy for the mechanism that is supposed to drive it? Did you consider trying steel, as I suggested the other day? I know Father didn’t think there was any validity to my suggestion, but have you actually tried it before?”
Faith stopped abruptly, stemming the flow of her many questions.
“No, I haven’t. It’s still a new material, and I haven’t taken the time to investigate it.”
To Faith’s surprise, the gentleman snorted—a rather despairing sound of forced amusement.
“Some scholar I am,” he said with derision. “If I haven’t even investigated all the possible materials, how can I possibly think I know anything about engineering?”
Faith noticed how his hands clenched around the paper he held, how his shoulders carried tension she hadn't seen before. Without thinking, she placed her hand lightly on his arm.
“You're being far too hard on yourself.”
The moment her fingers touched his coat sleeve, something shifted in the air between them. Jasper went very still, and Faith suddenly realized the impropriety of her gesture. She withdrew her hand quickly, her cheeks warming. But when their eyes met, the intensity in his gaze made her breath catch.
“Well, now you’re just moping,” she said with a laugh, hoping to pull them both out of the awkward moment. “You have a laboratory set up here, at least temporarily. There’s no time like the present,” she added.
His gaze sharpened as he stared at her. “What do you know about any of this?” he asked.
She shrugged. “As I’m sure you can imagine, engineering has not welcomed my presence in their classrooms. But I have read some of the materials, as well as spent time in the doorways of the studios, so I have no practical knowledge of anything,” she added with a sigh.
“Would you care to be my apprentice in that case?” he asked slowly, as though unsure if he should utter the words.
“I would be more than delighted,” Faith replied.
It took considerable effort not to jump up and down and clap her hands as she would have done as a small girl. She wasn’t sure if she should allow herself to spend any time with the noble engineer, but if a scholarly gentleman was inviting her to study something, she was never going to be in a position to say no.
She happily followed him from her father’s study as they headed toward his makeshift workshop at the back of the house.
~~~~
The 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.
"I need to show this to Jasper," Faith said, carefully copying the relevant passages into her notebook. "His engineering perspective might help us understand these architectural references."
"You can't take the originals," Meredith cautioned, glancing toward the main library where Mr. Hawkins might appear at any moment. "But your notes should be sufficient."
Faith nodded, working quickly to transcribe everything they'd discovered.
Once finished, she gathered her materials and squeezed Meredith's hand. "I'll return tomorrow. Perhaps by then you'll have located that volume on medieval construction techniques?"
"If it exists in Oxford, I'll find it," Meredith promised with a determined smile.
With her precious notes secured in her satchel, Faith hurried through the university grounds toward her father’s house, where Jasper had established his temporary laboratory. Her mind raced with possibilities as she walked, connecting fragments of information into potential patterns.
She had just made a breakthrough connection when she reached the converted outbuilding. Without pausing to knock, Faith burst into Jasper's makeshift laboratory, then stopped short at the sight of him bent over his work table, sleeves rolled up to reveal surprisingly muscular forearms.
"I... forgive my intrusion."
He straightened, wiping his hands on a cloth. "No forgiveness needed, Miss Somerton. You seem rather excited about something?"
"Yes, I..." She forced herself to focus on her research rather than the way his high cheekbones and mussed hair made her pulse quicken. "I've found some interesting references in these old texts about hidden chambers within Oxford's walls. Places where books might have been secretly preserved."
Jasper crossed to examine the documents she held, standing close enough that she could catch the faint scent of machine oil and leather that clung to him. His proximity was distracting, but Faith pressed on, determined to share her discoveries.
"Look at these architectural notes," she said, pointing to various markings. "They suggest there may be sealed spaces dating back to the Reformation era."
"Fascinating," Jasper murmured, though his attention seemed divided between her findings and his own unfinished work. He glanced at the mechanical drawings spread across his table. "I wish I could make similar progress with my device. The pressure distribution is still not quite right..."
Faith found herself drawn to his workbench, her scholarly excitement shifting to curiosity about his invention. "Perhaps a fresh perspective might help? Sometimes looking at old problems in new ways can lead to unexpected solutions."
The double meaning in her words hung in the air between them, adding yet another layer to their already complicated relationship. Faith clutched her documents tighter, wondering if she'd just discovered more than one kind of treasure.
~~~~
The clink of metal against metal filled the makeshift laboratory as Faith adjusted the delicate gears in Jasper's latest prototype. Her fingers were steady, despite the impropriety of her current position – alone with a gentleman, sleeves pushed up past her elbows, hands stained with oil.
"Try it now," she said, stepping back from the workbench.
Jasper leaned forward to examine her work, his shoulder brushing against hers.
"The alignment is perfect," he murmured. "How did you—?"
The door creaked open.
"Linford, I was hoping to discuss your latest—" Professor Walkerton stopped dead in the doorway, his eyes widening at the scene before him. "Good heavens."
Faith frantically tried to lower her sleeves, but the damage was done. The elderly professor's gaze swept from her oil-stained hands to the mechanical components spread across the workbench, his expression darkening with each detail he absorbed.
"Miss Somerton." His voice could have frozen the Thames. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Professor Walkerton." Jasper stepped forward, positioning himself slightly in front of Faith. "I can explain—"
"Can you indeed?" Walkerton’s tone was acid.
"Explain why a young lady is engaging in mechanical work? Why Professor Somerton's daughter is alone with you in this... this workshop?" He spat the last word as though it were obscene.
"I asked for her assistance," Jasper said firmly.
"Asked for her—" Somerton sputtered. "Have you taken leave of your senses? What would your father say, Linford? What would any of the faculty say if they knew you were encouraging such… such unseemly behaviour?"
Faith found her voice at last. "There is nothing unseemly about the pursuit of knowledge, Professor."
"Knowledge?" Walkerton laughed harshly. "Is that what you call this breach of propriety? Your poor father. To think his own daughter would—"
"Would what?" Professor Somerton's quiet voice came from the doorway, making them all jump. Faith hadn't even heard him approach.
"Somerton!" Walkerton turned to her father.
"I came to speak with Lord Jasper and found... this." He gestured at Faith and the workbench. "Surely you cannot condone—"
"What I condone in my own home is hardly your concern, Thomas." Her father's tone was mild, but Faith detected an edge she'd never heard before. "Though I believe Lord Jasper was planning to share some rather interesting findings at next week's faculty meeting. Findings that, unless I'm mistaken, owe rather a lot to some fresh perspectives on old problems."
Faith barely dared breathe as her father crossed to examine the prototype she'd been adjusting.
"Fascinating alignment on these gears," he remarked, as though this were any other academic discussion. "Quite innovative."
The tension in the room shifted subtly. Professor Walkerton looked between them all, clearly struggling to reconcile his outrage with Professor Somerton's calm acceptance.
"Well," he said finally, his voice stiff. "I see I've interrupted your work. We'll speak later, Linford."
He turned to go, then paused. "I trust this matter will remain private?"
"As private as your own daughter's Greek lessons," Professor Somerton replied pleasantly. "Good day, Thomas."
After Walkerton left, silence fell. Faith stared at her father, wondering if his intervention had been meant to help her or simply to avoid scandal.
He picked up one of the gear pieces, turning it in his hands.
"I suppose," he said at last, "we should discuss the proper time and place for such... tutorials."
His eyes met Faith's. "The library might be more suitable than a workshop. Less likely to draw attention."
Faith felt tears prick her eyes as she realized what he was offering – not just protection, but permission. Of a sort.
"Thank you, Father."
He set down the gear and headed for the door. "Just... be careful, my dear. Both of you."
He glanced at Jasper. "Not everyone is ready for change, even when it's clearly time for it."
After he left, Faith let out a shaky breath. Jasper's hand found hers, squeezing gently.
"Are you all right?"
She nodded, though her heart was still racing. "I just... I never thought he'd..."
"Stand up for you?" Jasper's thumb traced circles on her palm. "Perhaps we've both been underestimating those closest to us."
Faith looked down at their joined hands, then at the prototype they'd been working on together. "Perhaps we have."