Chapter 5 #2
“Perhaps not. I suggest that you give it time, Emmie. Allow me to submit the written application for your tickets, as the rules dictate. Perhaps he will unbend in the meantime.” Anthony drew her off to one side of the path and put an arm around her rigid shoulders.
“You cannot force change, especially on an institution like the British Museum.”
“Given all the injustice toward women that you have witnessed during the past few years, I can hardly believe my ears. You know very well that our own Miss Anning was forced to remain outside Somerset House while a lot of titled men presented her fossilized pterosaur to the Geological Society. And to this day, women are still not allowed among its ranks!”
Anthony held her away from him with a bemused yet somewhat impatient smile.
“See here, why are you angry with me? You asked me to apply for two tickets to the Reading Room, not storm the gates of the British Museum. I have done my best! It would be a mistake for me to try to coerce Antonio Panizzi or anyone else.”
“All right. Yes! I see what you mean.” Fuming inside, Emeline set her chin in a determined line. “Clearly, I must take matters into my own hands.”
A few short hours later, Emeline sat next to a desk at one end of the British Museum’s imposing library.
Just through the open doorway she could see the long Reading Room.
Glorious shelves of books rose to a balcony that encircled the entire perimeter of the room, and above that soared another ten feet of bookshelves.
There seemed to be more volumes in that space than Emeline had ever seen or even imagined.
She ached for the freedom to peruse them, like the scores of men who now occupied the tables crowding the vast floor of the Reading Room.
Emeline tapped her neatly shod foot, waiting for Antonio Panizzi, the Keeper of Printed Books, to appear.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had dressed with such care.
Her unembellished gown of amethyst moiré was a shade darker than her eyes, and a crisp white collar attached to her chemisette peeped primly above the gown’s neckline.
Even Emeline’s raven locks were concealed beneath a simple silk bonnet stiffened with cane hoops.
“Do you think that anyone will recognize me as the so-called Exquisite?” she had asked Louise as they surveyed her reflection in the cheval mirror.
“Not a bit,” her cousin had laughed. “Rather, I should suppose you were a bluestocking, or a very strict governess.”
Emeline smiled to herself at the memory but quickly turned serious as a middle-aged man with thick dark hair, heavy eyebrows, and side whiskers came into the room. She held her breath as he set down a sheaf of papers and turned to speak to her.
“What brings you to my desk, miss?” His tone was distracted.
She heard his Italian accent and knew this must be Panizzi.
Her brother had told her that the Keeper of Printed Books had come to England as a young man to avoid arrest as a revolutionary in Italy.
As a librarian at the museum, he helped to reorganize the collection and plan for its expansion.
This year, Panizzi had begun enforcing the 1842 Copyright Act, which required publishers to give the British Library a copy of every new book published.
Emeline had a dozen questions for this man, but all of them would have to wait. Instead, she rose, gathered her wits, and approached him.
At the first table in the Reading Room, Hart leaned back in his chair and watched the scene unfolding in front of Panizzi’s desk.
When it seemed that Emeline might glance his way, he lifted an open book to block part of his face.
It was impossible not to stare at the chit.
She might look very proper in her stiff moiré gown, but there was no disguising her radiant beauty or the fire of her intelligence.
It was not a surprise that she had come to face Panizzi, to plead her case in person, but Hart guessed that the rigid Keeper of Printed Books would not be so easily swayed.
And of course, that was exactly what Hart—and Justin St. Briac—were counting on. The more barriers impeding the details of her employment, the better.
“Allow me to make myself known to you, sir,” she was saying to Panizzi.
“My name is Emeline St. Briac. This morning, I believe you had a visit from my brother regarding tickets of admission to the Reading Room for me and my cousin, Louise? Anthony tells me that you declined our request. Could it be because we are female?” Did Hart detect a slight quaver in her voice?
Brave girl. “I have come to personally appeal to you. Perhaps you suspect that we are not serious scholars—”
Panizzi cut her off with a shake of his head.
“I must set limits, Miss St. Briac. You see for yourself that there are already more readers at the tables than space comfortably allows.” He lowered his voice.
“It is my duty to oversee all that transpires in the Reading Room, and in my experience, females present an unwelcome distraction. That is why there are lending libraries where ladies may borrow books to read in the privacy of their homes.”
Behind his open book, Hart allowed himself a sardonic smile. He couldn’t have written Panizzi’s lines better himself.
“Mr. Panizzi, this is outrageous.” Emeline paused, lifting her chin. “My cousin and I are very serious women! And as you can see, there is nothing distracting about my garb.”
The librarian reached for the papers on his desk, signaling an end to their interview. “My good lady, if you must persist in this course of action, follow the rules like everyone else. Go home and have your brother submit a written application on your behalf.”
Her face fell. “But how long would it be before a decision is reached?”
“It is impossible to say. These things take time, and as you can see, I am a very busy man.” Stepping behind his desk, he added, “And now, I must bid you good day. I have a great deal of work to do.”
Hart nodded to himself, ignoring the odd pang in his chest. Yes, good! Now she could leave and wait for the interminable process to play out, and he could go on with his life.
However, instead of retreating in surrender, Emeline took a step closer to Panizzi.
“Sir, I implore you,” she began more softly. “It is vitally important that I be granted access to the volumes inside these rooms.” Raising one gloved hand, Emeline gestured longingly toward the book-lined walls.
Something in her voice tugged at what might have been his heart, if he had one.
Hart slowly lowered his book, closed it, and set it aside.
To his own surprise, he found himself rising to his feet.
As if guided by an unseen hand, he walked under the arch that separated the Reading Room from Panizzi’s office area.
“Pardon the interruption.” Hart approached the pair and stopped next to Emeline. “I feel compelled to intervene.”
Emeline looked up, surprise and confusion mingling in on her face. Her very pretty mouth made an O.
“Lord Hartcliffe,” Panizzi’s tone was now deferential. “I do beg your pardon. No doubt you have been disturbed in your studies.” He sent a quick, accusatory glance toward Emeline.
“No, not a bit,” Hart assured him languidly. “In fact, I was delighted to notice that my esteemed colleague, Miss St. Briac, had arrived, no doubt to collect her special ticket? As it happens, I have engaged the ladies to do some very important scientific research on my behalf.”
“Important…research?” Antonio Panizzi flushed under his side-whiskers, but after a brief, skeptical pause he nodded. “I see, my lord. Of course. With your strong recommendation, I shall issue the cards for Miss St. Briac and her cousin at once.”
“Excellent. Just bring them along to my table when they are ready.” Hart offered his arm to Emeline and gave her a faint, knowing smile. “There is something special I’ve been waiting to show you.”
As he led her away, into the exclusive Reading Room with its tables of men, Hart thought, Mad! I’ve gone utterly mad.