The glass was going to look very good indeed, and Nell washed it all carefully. But as she did so, one level of her mind was replaying the meeting at the bank. The thought of using up almost all of her careful stash of funds was suddenly alarming, and the prospect of a loan on top of that was outright terrifying. Supposing the venture failed? Supposing there was an even worse plunge in the economy? Supposing she became ill and could not run the shop? There would be absolutely no funds to fall back on, because Beth’s fund was indeed untouchable. As she placed the glassware in the smaller of her two windows and set out some Victorian jewellery with it, she thought it would be a bitter blow if she had to back out.
But when Godfrey came into the shop just before she was closing, clutching a letter and looking anxious, the prospect of backing out loomed even closer.
‘The freeholder’s figure for the assignment?’ said Nell, glad for once that there were no customers in the shop and they could talk freely.
‘Yes. Oh, Nell, it’s much higher than I thought it would be.’
‘How much higher?’
‘They’re saying that because the lease was created more than ten years ago, they’re now allowed to ask whatever figure they want for assigning it. There are stages in the life of the lease, apparently, and this is one of them. I thought the figure would be pretty much the same as I paid, but it isn’t …’
‘Godfrey, how much higher?’
‘Fifteen thousand pounds higher,’ said Godfrey, miserably.
Nell sat down abruptly. ‘Oh, lord, that really is higher.’
‘We can negotiate a bit,’ he said, hopefully. ‘I dare say they aren’t expecting to get the exact amount they’re asking, but they’ve said this is a prime spot. Nell, I do hope I haven’t got you all fired up about this, only to find it’s impossible.’
‘It isn’t like that at all,’ said Nell at once. ‘But that extra fifteen thousand pounds might stretch it too far.’
Michael had intended to spend most of Monday morning drafting notes for a lecture on eighteenth-century novels. There was the usual faculty meeting at nine, and he had a tutorial at eleven, but apart from that he was free. He thought he might try to track down Salamander House later. He would also see if Professor Rosendale had a spare half hour somewhere, to let him have the Porringer letters.
When he got back to his rooms after the meeting, Wilberforce was nowhere to be seen, but he made his presence felt in the form of an email from the photographer doing the publicity shots for the new book. They had rescheduled the shoot, and the photographer would like to come along to Oriel on Thursday morning. They would bring their own props this time, to save any further damage to Michael’s rooms, but it would be really helpful if Wilberforce could be persuaded to cooperate – although remembering the first shoot, Rafe could not think how this might be achieved.
Hard on the heels of this was an email from Michael’s editor, who expressed herself as thrilled (it came over as ‘thrrrilled’) to report that the editorial meeting absolutely loved the idea for a set of historical books set in Wilberforce’s world, using his ancestors as characters. They would like to make this a joint venture with their educational books department (who were very keen on the project) and they would, of course, be sending a formal offer, commissioning the series. But in the meantime, it would be great if Michael could let her have a treatment for the first couple. They ought to be sequential, of course. Perhaps Michael could start with King John and Magna Carta – the Wilberforce of the day might be a scribe, constantly losing writing materials or falling into ink pots. After that, maybe Elizabeth the First, in which a Tudor Wilberforce could be a swashbuckling court cat embarking on a life of piracy, bringing home treasure chests of doubloons. Although they must be careful not to plant the idea in the children’s minds that robbing and pillaging was good. And it was only an idea, of course. But could they say next March for delivery of Book One?