Beatrice (16 page)

“I hate
not being about to go about my business freely,” Maud groused with
a frown. “Are you going to Tipton Hollow first?”

Ben
stepped forward and put a hand on Beatrice’s slim waist. “We can
do. We are going to the university, but may go somewhere else after
that if we can find a Latin scholar to transcribe some notes. We
really aren’t sure.”

“It is
market day,” Maud mused and turned to Beatrice. “I have to get some
things for the Circle meeting. I think that I will go to the market
and see what I can find. If I am finished before you are, I can
have a cup of tea with my friend Sally before I come
home.”

“Give us
her address and we will pick you up from Sally’s house on the way
home.”

Maud
quickly wrote out the address on a piece of paper and went to fetch
her shawl.

“Thank
you for squiring us around like this. It really is kind of
you.”

Although
she was taller than average, she still had to tip her head back to
look up at him when he moved to stand before her. Unsurprisingly,
she felt the faint flurry of passion begin to roar to life again. A
thrill of desire swept through her when his head began to descend
and their lips touched briefly just as Maud appeared in the
hallway.

Ben
lifted his head and smiled ruefully down at her. “Later,” he
whispered into her ear before he moved to the doorway.

It was
all Beatrice could do to nod.

“Are you
sure you want to be left here, Mrs Partridge?” Ben asked as he wove
the carriage through the busy traffic.

“Please
call me Maud. Nobody calls me Mrs Partridge, except for the vicar,
and I don’t really like him,” Maud replied with a smile.

She
hoped that he would understand that her relationship with Beatrice
was not going to change if Beatrice married him. At Brantley Manor,
formalities were never adhered to because Beatrice and Maud were
like family to each other; if Ben intended to join them then he had
to accept that things were a little different, and a lot less
formal than in most houses.

“Let’s
start as we mean to go on then, Maud. You must call me Ben,” he
smiled as he handed her down from the carriage. “Beatrice has
Sally’s address, so we will call by there when we have finished at
the university. Whatever happens, we will be back for you so don’t
go home on your own.”

“Fair
enough,” Maud replied as she lifted both of her baskets off the
seat and turned toward the busy market. “Wish me luck.”

Beatrice
merely smiled at her and studied the crowds. It was only when Ben
had started to edge the carriage back out into the traffic that her
gaze landed on the now familiar face of Sigmund Hargraves, who
stood with one shoulder propped against a market stall. Although he
didn’t attempt to approach them, his stare was fierce as they drove
past.

Beatrice
nudged Ben. “Hargraves,” she whispered and nodded to the spot where
the man had been standing. To her consternation, he had vanished.
She turned around and searched the crowd, but couldn’t see her
either Maud or Hargraves.

“Are you
sure?” Ben demanded as he turned to look back at the market
stalls.

“’
ere watch out,” a pedestrian cried as he quickly dodged the
horse.

“Sorry,”
Ben called and turned his attention back to the heavy traffic. “I
haven’t seen Great Tipton like this in a long time,” he muttered as
he wove the carriage expertly in and out of both stationary and
moving carriages.

“I hate
the market when it gets this busy,” Beatrice replied. It was a
relief to leave the hustle and bustle behind when they turned onto
a much quieter road which took them directly to the
university.

“Heavens
above,” she whispered minutes later, once Ben had parked the
carriage and they had entered the main square of the
campus.

In
contrast to the raucous bustle of the market, the heavy atmosphere
of the university was almost too quiet. The clip of their boots on
the cobbled path seemed to echo around the large courtyard which
was surrounded by four-storey buildings. Although she had yet to
see another living soul, she could practically feel eyes watching
her as she made her away across the open area toward the door
marked ‘Entrance’. She was glad that Ben was with her because she
was certain that if she had been alone, she would have got no
further and turned around and gone home. It was a relief to be able
to open the door to the entrance hall and get inside.

Ben
stood back to allow her through and fought the urge to tug at his
collar. He hadn’t been into a building like this since he had left
university, and had forgotten just how oppressive the atmosphere
was. They walked onto hallowed ground as they entered the huge,
panelled entrance hall embraced by two massive oak staircases.
Directly in front of them sat a single desk behind which sat a
small, bespectacled gentleman.

“Can I
help you?” He intoned, clearly bored out of his skull from having
to sit with nothing much to do.

“Would
you be able to direct us to someone who may have specialist
knowledge of botany please?”

“Harrington, Room 51. Top of the stairs, end of the corridor,
turn right, last door on the left.”

Beatrice
looked at Ben and fought a smile. She hoped he had made a note of
what the man had said because she couldn’t remember anything other
than the room they needed was number 51.

“We may
be gone for some time,” she whispered.

“Shh.”
The man glared at them as they made their way up the
stairs.

She
winced and remained quiet while they tip-toed up the large
staircase. To their consternation, once they got there, one long
corridor ran both to the left and the right of them.

Ben
opened his mouth to ask the man at the desk which way they should
go, only to stare aghast at the now empty desk.

“We
didn’t imagine him, did we?” Beatrice asked. She started to feel a
little unnerved because they had been near silent going up the
stairs, and she hadn’t heard any movement behind them. Yet the man
had not only left the desk, but vanished completely.

She drew
her shawl around her shoulders and took Ben’s arm, even though he
didn’t hold it out to her. Thankfully, he drew her against his side
as they walked arm in arm down the corridor, and it was a relief to
have his solid strength beside her.

“We can
try this way first. If there isn’t any sign of Room 51 then can try
the other corridor. If we get lost, we can always start to knock on
doors.”

Beatrice
studied the long corridor before them and simply couldn’t count the
amount of doors they were faced with.

“One
hundred and eleven,” she sighed.

“Right,
let’s go then,” he suggested as they started to walk down the
corridor.

Secretly
though, he wondered if they would ever see daylight
again.

CHAPTER
TEN

Ben
knocked on the door and stood back to wait. When there was no
response, he sighed and knocked louder.

“In.”

Ben
lifted his brows at Beatrice and opened the door.

The room
was large, and contained a huge variety of plants and flowers at
various stages of growth, along with a humungous selection of
books. Drawings and diagrams lined all of the walls, and were
scattered across the solitary desk located in the centre of the
room.

Beatrice
studied the man behind it and wondered if he was still alive. He
was so old that he looked as though he had a hit his hundredth
birthday quite some time ago. He looked as fragile as the flower in
Beatrice’s study, to the point that she rather suspected that if a
good gust of wind blew him over, he wasn’t likely to get back up
again.

“Good
morning,” Ben said when the man finally seemed to realise he had
company. “I am Mr Addison, and this is Miss Northolt.”

The
mention of Beatrice’s surname was enough to make the man suddenly
pick his glasses off his desk and peer through them so he could
study her more closely.

“Northolt, you say?” He scowled at her. “Would you be related
to Matthew Northolt?”

“Yes, he
was my uncle,” Beatrice replied with a nod.

The
man’s face was suddenly wreathed in smiles, and he stood up and
hurried around the table with a youthful agility that belied his
age.

“Please,
come in and take a seat. My name is Archibald Harrington, but you
may call me Archie, my dear. Your uncle always did. Matthew told me
so much about you, and always spoke so highly of you.” He leaned
forward and lowered his voice. “I have been dying to meet
you.”

“I am
delighted to meet you too,” Beatrice replied and, to her surprise,
found herself enveloped in a huge hug. “Please, call me Beatrice,
and this is Ben, my friend,” she gasped when he released
her.

Ben
stepped forward and held his hand out only to lift his brows at
Archie’s next comment.

“I have
heard a lot about you too,” Archie sighed as he shook hands with
Ben. He held his hands at his waist in a rather proud pose as he
stood back to study him. “Matthew always spoke so highly about you,
and often confided to me that he felt you were a suitable match for
his niece. I am glad that you finally listened to
sense.”

Beatrice
felt her cheeks blush and coughed a little uncomfortably as she
took the seat Archie offered her in front of the desk.

“I hope
you don’t mind our intrusion? I know we should have written first
but we need some advice as a matter of urgency.”

Archie
resumed his seat and leaned his elbows on the desk. “You should
feel free to call upon me whenever you need to, my dear. Any
relation of Matthew’s is more than welcome here.”

Ben
withdrew the packaging paper, which contained a list of names and
the cultivation notes, and handed it to Archie. They watched as he
picked up his spectacles again and peered down at it.

They
looked at each other when Archie’s face suddenly grew still and his
mouth fell open.

“Merciful heavens, this is Matthew’s writing,” Archie
whispered.

Beatrice
opened her mouth to deny it, but felt Ben move beside her. She
turned to look at him and watched him shake his head ever so
slightly, and so remained quiet. They both knew that Ben was the
one who had copied the drawing and notes; they were definitely not
Matthew Northolt’s notes. Was Archie lying, or was it a genuine
mistake?

“Can you
translate the Latin phrases?” Beatrice asked when Archie became so
engrossed in the notes that he seemed to have forgotten they were
there.

Archie
studied the names and addresses only briefly, then turned his
attention back to the notes. “Oh, I can, my dear. The last time I
saw him, Matthew, he said that he was involved in a special project
with some colleagues, but was a little cagey about it. He said that
it was a scientific experiment that nobody had ever tried before
and, although there was nothing likely to come from it, he was
going to give it a go anyway.”

“I take
it that these are cultivation notes?” Beatrice tapped the area of
the packaging paper that contained the Latin words.

Archie
sighed and peered over the top of his spectacles. “These are
cultivation notes for an extremely rare orchid called Caelestia
Perfectionis. It is a rare cross-breed of tropical plant cultivated
from two specimens originating from entirely different tropical
countries. Nobody has ever done anything like it before and, to be
honest, nobody really thought it was at all possible. However, if
Jules Sanders is involved, then he may be able to make it
happen.”

“He made
it happen,” Beatrice replied quietly. “I have it.”

Archie’s
eyes flew to hers and he studied her carefully for several long
moments. However, Beatrice didn’t want to start to answer a lot of
questions about the plant right now, she wanted to get to the
second reason why they were there.

“So,
those are the cultivation notes,” she tapped the Latin words and
random symbols. “Am I right in thinking that these men had
something to do with the plant’s cultivation, along with my
uncle?”

“They
are all botanists, Beatrice,” Archie replied cautiously. “However,
I seriously doubt that they are colleagues. Jules and Browning had
an argument only the other week, at the Town Hall, about ownership
of something. I don’t know, I only heard rumours you understand,
and different people always have different stories to tell.
However, I know that Brian Mottram was a good friend of your
uncle’s, and Matthew worked on several projects with Jules. It may
be that the men worked together on the cultivation of the plant you
have, I just don’t know. Unfortunately, Richard Browning doesn’t
have many friends. He isn’t well liked, if you know what I
mean?”

Ben shared a look with Beatrice. “Is he likely to have
had
anything
to
do with the cultivation of the rare orchid?”