Chapter 19 #2
Saffron arrived just before eight o’clock at the North Wing.
Her hands shook with anticipation as she searched her bag for the keys only to recall they were still missing.
She never had found them. Wincing at the prospect of a run-in with the disagreeable maintenance man of the North Wing, Mr. Tummel, she set off to find him in his basement office.
He unlocked her office door for her with something that shockingly resembled politeness and promised a replacement key would be forthcoming.
She arranged herself in Dr. Maxwell’s office, with reference books on all sides and her original proposal in front of her, and started back where she’d left off the previous evening.
Her hair ruffled and her fingers smudged with ink, at midday she had a new version of her proposal.
She wished Dr. Maxwell was there to advise her, or that Dr. Aster was not so intimidating.
The three other botany professors were unlikely to give her any help.
Saffron sighed and admitted her best option for advice was Alexander, who, though not in her department, was very familiar with research proposals.
She fixed her hair quickly and attempted to scrub off the ink on her fingers before knocking at his office door.
“Hello,” Saffron said from the doorway, not willing to feel uncomfortable that they had parted ways awkwardly last night. “I’m sure you’re very busy, but would you mind looking over my proposal?”
He agreed and beckoned her inside. Alexander looked a little worse for wear. His hair was slightly tousled, and he had shadows under his eyes. She tried not to wonder why he looked like he’d spent the previous night climbing through another garden.
He accepted her file and flicked through pages, frowning in concentration. She sat on the couch at first, then stood to examine his bookshelf. Then she went to the chair and sat.
“There’s no need to be anxious,” Alexander said after she’d made another circuit of the room. “This is fine.”
“But what is ‘fine’? What does that mean?” She went and stood next to him, leaning over his shoulder and pointing. “Like this—you’ve put a mark. What does that mean?”
“It means I have a question about what you wrote,” he said, a smile in his voice.
“About what?”
“You wrote ‘pigmen’ rather than ‘pigment.’”
Saffron scowled at him. “Fine, a typing mistake. I can fix that. I can’t fix it if the whole thing is wrong. What do I need to change?”
“Apart from the typing, which I’m sure is because you felt rushed, and a few changes in wording, this should be fine,” Alexander said, still examining the file.
“This is the most important thing I’ve done yet in my career. Could you maybe find more to say apart from that it’s fine?” Despite herself, she could hear the edge of panic in her voice. She sat down heavily in the chair opposite him, clutching her hands together.
Alexander took pity on her and gave her half an hour of slight wording adjustments and encouragement, both of which she needed.
The moment he was done, Saffron rushed to the library to see if there were any other species she wanted to include in her experimental design.
She had begun to worry that she wasn’t giving Alexander enough options, since he would be the one collecting the specimens.
Finally, at five o’clock, Alexander poked his head into Dr. Maxwell’s office. “How does it look? Do you feel prepared?”
Behind him, scads of high-spirited students were clearing out for the evening. They only served as a reminder that she’d soon be alone in a quiet building with Dr. Berking.
“Yes, I think it looks all right,” Saffron replied, trying to sound confident. Her hand shook slightly as she passed him her final copy.
“This is very well done, Saffron,” he murmured, thumbing through each page.
She grimaced. “I really don’t know if it’ll make a difference. Dr. Berking will be looking to see if I’m charming—that’s all he cares about.”
“I can come with you, you know.” His dark eyes looked at her steadily over the pages.
She tried to smile at his offer but found her lips weren’t quite willing. “Thank you, but no. This is something I have to do myself. Even if he rejects the proposal, I’ll know I did my best work.”
Although he told himself that he really should make better use of his time, Alexander couldn’t settle himself in his office once he’d left Saffron. He didn’t like that she was meeting with Dr. Berking. But he knew he had no right to tell her not to go, so he hadn’t done so.
Resolving to go back to the North Wing when her meeting began at six o’clock and wait until she was finished, Alexander walked slowly across the Quad, intending to go to the library to attempt some further research.
The sun had dipped below the dome of the Wilkins Building, casting long, cool shadows over the emptying Quad.
Just as he was about to mount the stairs, he caught sight of the kind receptionist from the administrative offices.
She was wearing a large brown hat and matching coat, fumbling with keys to the office doors.
Thinking of Adams’s comments the previous evening, he approached her. “Good evening.”
She turned around with her usual pinched expression, which lit into a smile when she registered him.
“Oh, hello, dear.” She shoved the key forcefully into the lock and turned it. “I do hope you don’t need to get in, I’ve already stayed far later than I intended today.”
“Not at all,” Alexander said. “I wondered if I could ask you something. The other day you mentioned you’d let someone into Mr. Blake’s office.”
She frowned, her lips puckering. “Did I? Oh dear.”
“Yes, you did. I was wondering who that was. It wasn’t Mrs. Henry, was it?”
The receptionist looked thoughtful. “It was, actually. She’d been to Mr. Blake’s office a few times to discuss funding for the Amazonian expedition on behalf of her husband, since he was working with patrons of the university himself. She had left her handbag inside.”
Alexander nodded slowly, taking in that new information. Mrs. Henry often meeting with Blake would not be surprising if they were lovers, but her returning to his office when he wasn’t there was suspicious.
Realizing he was frowning at the now confused receptionist, Alexander said, “I see. Did they work together long, Mr. Blake and Mrs. Henry?”
“No, but the expedition was planned in just a few months, wasn’t it?” She smiled indulgently. “I’m sure you were thrilled when you learned of it.”
Alexander gave her a brief smile. “Of course.” He wracked his brain for an elegant way to ask his next question, but he came up blank.
“I suppose you only let her into Mr. Blake’s office once.
She wasn’t as forgetful as I was.” He forced an awkward laugh.
How on Earth did Saffron find charming information out of people so easy?
“Just the once. I remember because she cancelled their next appointment the very next day. It was memorable, you see, because she actually requested a meeting with the College Committee instead. It isn’t often that the wife of a faculty member wants to meet with the Committee.”
Alexander swallowed his excitement. This was what Saffron had told him in a rush the day before, that Mrs. Henry could have been out to sabotage her husband’s chances of creating his own department. “And did she mention what the meeting was to be about?”
“Well, yes. They won’t let me just put anyone down on their schedule,” the receptionist said. “It was about the funding for the expedition.”
Saffron found that six o’clock came upon her surprisingly quickly.
She smoothed her navy-blue skirt, reapplied Elizabeth’s lucky lipstick, and collected her papers, then went up to Dr. Berking’s office.
Pierce admitted her to the large office and said that Dr. Berking had not yet finished his last appointment but would return presently.
Heart pounding, Saffron sat in the chair before the desk at first, then, nerves getting to her again, walked around the room.
The light had faded from the windows, and the street below was filled with a steady stream of students.
Their energetic chatter seemed miles away from where she looked down on them from the window.
After five minutes passed, curiosity got the better of her, and Saffron wandered to Berking’s desk to casually try the drawers.
They were still locked except for the top one that contained his checkbook.
The drawer slid open easily this time. He must have retrieved the paper that had been jammed, the one with the formula on it.
She picked up the checkbook and flipped through it again, noting that he’d written another check to R.
Glass since the one he’d written when she had broken into the office.
It was for a large sum; together both checks totaled five hundred pounds, which was rather a lot for a bet.
At a sound from the outer office, she shoved the book back into the drawer and closed it, clearing the edge of the desk just as the door swung open and Dr. Berking’s belly came through the entrance. She gripped her hands together tightly, hoping Berking didn’t notice her rapid breathing.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said loudly. “Have you prepared your proposal? Let’s get right to business.”
To Saffron’s great surprise, Dr. Berking went straight to his desk and began reading her proposal. He asked a few questions, without a hint of flirtation or menace, and she answered them best she could. By the time the clock struck quarter ’til seven, he closed her file and set down his pen.
“Well, Miss Everleigh, this has vastly improved. I’m inclined to approve this project. However,” he said, standing, “we have a few points we must clarify.”
Leaving her in suspense, he lumbered across the room to the door. Saffron, not looking at him, heard an ominous click as the door locked. Her palms began to sweat. “Sir, I don’t …” she stammered as he came back toward the desk.