Chapter 2 The Search #2
“In some things, yes.” Not in the fact that my father died or that he left me a rather small inheritance, she thought but didn’t say aloud.
She was still trying to figure out how she was going to make a living.
She had started working as a tutor but had always felt she was meant for something more.
Perhaps with a reference from the Bells, she could continue cataloging.
But if she were in Mr. Bell’s position, she wouldn’t have to find an occupation.
She’d be able to spend all her time with books.
She’d be able to buy those that fascinated her most. In addition to studying them, she’d be able to protect them too.
Maybe even start her own archival library, something that seemed closer to a dream than reality. Everything here was.
Yesterday during afternoon tea, she’d had to admit how much she’d enjoyed all the extravagance.
She had been rather taken aback by the display of tiny yet elaborate finger foods: the cucumber sandwiches, whipped cream pastries, and petit fours.
She could get used to life here. Even if it had been only for a short time, she’d promised to let herself enjoy it.
“If you’d like a break,” Mr. Bell said, “there’s something I think you’d like to see.”
She sighed inwardly, preferring to get back to the task at hand.
For all she knew, the book she was desperate to find was in this crate or the next one.
She thought about saying no. Giving some excuse like “maybe tomorrow,” but at the same time, his eyes were so eager, it warmed her.
She didn’t have the heart to say no to him just yet.
“Of course,” she said flatly. Maybe it was something that he thought might be worth a great deal of money. It might even be interesting.
He held up a finger and rushed over to the shelves. Like he’d claimed, he seemed to know them well. After a bit of pointing and counting, he pulled out a text and moved it over to the table.
Mia’s eyes went wide.
“It’s from the Philippines,” he said with meaning.
She practically shoved him aside. The crocodile scales, a thousand different shades of brown, gray, and black, were impossible to miss.
When she splayed it open, she knew the thin, black waves of Baybayin script at once. She couldn’t believe her eyes. This was it. What she and her father had been looking for for so long.
Tears began to fill her eyes. There was no knowing how many texts had been destroyed when the Spanish had arrived in the Philippines in the sixteenth century.
The missionaries, her father had believed, had destroyed the most, claiming the texts, artifacts, and Lord-knew-what-else had all been works of the Devil.
During the British invasion of Manila in the 1760s, the British had had their hands in the destruction and plundering too. But this text had survived somehow, trading hands until it had landed in Mr. Bell’s grandfather’s, then back into hers. And that was where she wanted it to remain.
“You like it, I take it?” Mr. Bell asked softly.
“I could kiss you.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, that wasn’t exactly the reaction I expected, but…um…”
She laughed. Actually laughed. Something she felt like she hadn’t really done since her father’s death.
“Can you read it?” he asked.
“Yes.” She turned the pages with great care, pretending she didn’t already know everything this book was about.
“What’s in it?”
“Incantations, spells, rituals…”
“I tried to warn you.” He leaned in deeper, over her shoulder.
“The authors of this book were Babaylan.”
“What’s that?”
“Priestesses. Women who were believed to have a connection with the spirit world, allowing them to perform certain spells, rituals…or, as you might know it: witchcraft,” she explained, half in a daze.
She still couldn’t believe the book was before her.
That it had been this easy. She had expected to search for weeks.
But now that she had it, what was she to do?
She’d have to finish cataloging. She couldn’t just leave with it.
If the book went missing now, he’d know she’d taken it.
“What happened to them?” Mr. Bell asked.
“They were killed by the Spanish,” she answered. “I think they feared their knowledge would be lost, so they decided to write it down to preserve it, perhaps before they lost their very lives.”
He looked down, shaking his head.
“When do you think this was written? Around the time the Spanish arrived?”
“In the sixteenth century, yes. Given the paper it’s written on. The women would have attained it from the Spanish.”
“Fascinating. It’s far more than just a book of spells, isn’t it?”
“You have no idea.” The book proved that literacy, culture and civilization existed in the Philippines long before the Spanish had arrived. It was a piece of their very own history. If this existed, that meant there could be other books out there somewhere. It proved that they existed.
“Do you think it’s worth anything?”
Her heart squeezed. It was a stupid question, really. She would never think of selling it.
“As far as I’m concerned, it’s priceless. Most missionaries would have burned stuff like this. Some even today.”
“How is it you think my grandfather got a hold of it?”
“Bought it from an English officer, I’d guess. Maybe even a soldier.”
Mr. Bell looked at her quizzically.
“It’s war loot,” she clarified, albeit a touch too harshly. “Perhaps your tutors forgot to teach you about the British raid of Manila.”
He frowned. “I see.”
She wanted right then to just tell him. Wouldn’t it be easier just to explain that this book, no matter what it was worth, didn’t belong to him? His family had plenty of other books of value here.
She had no choice but to try to purchase it, perhaps say it went to some other collector. Even if they had no right to profit off war loot. But how could she afford it? Maybe if he knew how controversial it was, he’d sell it at a lower price.
“There are some who might believe it very odd—suspicious, even—to have such a book,” Mia said. “People might think you performed these rituals.”
He let out a whoosh of breath. “People already think a lot of things. About me, my grandfather…We’re used to rumor.”
So much for that strategy.
“Can I tell you something?” Mr. Bell asked. “In confidence?”
They’d only known each other for a few days, but what did that matter? They also ran in different circles. Aside from Beatrice, she didn’t know much of anyone in society with whom he associated.
“Of course.” She focused her gaze on him.
Before coming to Bell Manor, she had done her research.
She thought she knew him at least a little, and yet he continued to surprise her.
Never had she expected him to just hand over this book.
Let alone know about its existence amongst his grandfather’s collection.
“There were rumors that my grandfather, grandmother, and even great-grandfather were affiliated with some very strange people.”
“‘Strange’?” She didn’t know why but her heart started to race. The gentry, if they wanted to be, could be strange in the most disturbing ways. “How so?”
“Oh, just the sort that would take this book very seriously. Maybe too seriously.”
“There are plenty of people who believe in the supernatural. Especially in London.”
“These people, you could say, are a bit more organized.”
“Like a club? Or rather…” She raised a brow. “A secret society? That’s what you’re really talking about, isn’t it?”
It had to have been. The bored upper classes loved secret societies. In recent years, there had been a tremendous rise of them in London. It was the exclusivity that gave them their allure. She couldn’t help but feel curious herself. Perhaps this secret society was a powerful one.
He nodded.
“They are common enough in London.” She shrugged.
“This one is different. I assure you.”
“How so?”
“For them, the supernatural is quite real…so long as you know where to look.”
“I can see how a book like this would have intrigued them.”
“You can understand then why they kept it secret.”
She was starting to. It was probably the only reason the book had survived this long.
Too many believed the supernatural and the Devil were one and the same.
Mia, on the other hand, believed that these rituals, spells, and whatever else was in this book were neither good nor evil, just as nature was neither good nor evil. Good and evil, rather, were choices.
“Do you think your grandfather ever performed these rituals?” She searched his gaze.
He looked different than he had before. There was something in his eyes she hadn’t noticed.
They looked so full of thought, so full of some deep insight.
Though she couldn’t say what, exactly. Whatever his eyes contained, they were easily his best feature.
“I don’t think he’d know where to begin.”
Not without someone like her who could read the book.
Not just that—she’d actually seen the rituals firsthand.
Even if it had been long ago as a child.
She was one of them, she almost wanted to say, one of the priestesses, just like her mother had been, just like her mother before her had been.
One of the few lines of women who had managed to survive, just like this book.
“Do you think there could be more books like this here?” Mia asked softly.
“I don’t know. But if there are, I want to help you find them.”
She smiled weakly. “Are you sure? Don’t you—”
A rapid knock interrupted her words.
“Afraid that will have to wait,” Mrs. Bell said at the doorway. How long had she been standing there listening?
Mia should have realized being alone with him was improper. Mrs. Bell would see it as nothing less. She considered apologizing, then realized it was just as much Mr. Bell’s fault as it was her own. If anything, he held more of the blame. All she was doing was the task for which she had been hired.
Mr. Bell turned toward the doorway and crossed his arms. “Mother.”
“Mrs. DeWitt has just left her card …”
Mr. Bell just looked at her blankly.
“The mother of the daughter you are courting…has. Returned. Her. Card. I’d like you to pay a visit this afternoon, please.”
He glanced back at Mia. “Another time?”
She nodded, her heart sinking. A feeling that was more than silly.
But he wasn’t so bad, was he? At least not like she’d first thought.
He wasn’t rude or condescending. He was kind and thoughtful and…
out of reach, she reminded herself. Of course he had other pressing matters.
He wasn’t bored and uninterested in marriage.
Even if he had been, it was his duty. He just wanted the extra bit of money the books would bring.
Probably just so he could spend it. He was supposed to have a spending problem, after all.
She didn’t know what she was doing. She couldn’t let him distract her. If there were more books like this one, she had to find them.