This idea was glorious to me. I could stay within his proximity. I could be with him for a longer time. The obstacle was Father. He was under the impression that I could be back on the morrow. “I would have to send word to Father,” I said.
“I could do that,” the Duke said. “If I were to contrive some party or gathering. Yes, that is what I will do. I will throw a grand party five days from now. If I write to your father personally, I do not see how he can object. I am, after all, a Duke.” He said this with none of the condescension or social pretentiousness which is so common in this sphere. He merely spoke the truth. “I would send the missive by messenger,” he went on. “Your father would learn immediately, and so any social missteps would be alleviated. If he wishes for your return, of course you must go. But I do not think he will. What is your answer, Sarah? Please, say yes!”
He gazed into my eyes imploringly. I nearly reached out to touch his face, but I restrained myself. All around us life was happening, and yet I felt utterly disconnected from it all. Life was no happening out there; it was happening here.
“I will stay,” I said. I hastened to add: “But you must write to Father this instant. Make it clear that it is for the party, and stress the social benefits.”
“I shall,” the Duke said, releasing my hand. “I shall write to him this instant. Will you come with me, Sarah? I will go to my study, and there are books there that I think might interest you.”
At the mention of books I had stood as though by rote. “I will come,” I said, as naturally and unexcitedly as I was able.
The Duke nodded and began to walk. After a moment, I followed, not so close as to cause murmur, but not so distant as to be strictly proper.
*****
The main body of the guests still being occupied with the festivities, the library was a private meeting place for the Duke and me. He led me into a chamber a Greek philosopher would be happy to stand in for a time. It was not so much the architecture of the room that provoked a profound response within me, but the character of the room. Everywhere one looked, books lay upon the shelves, hundreds and hundreds of them. I have never seen so many books in my life. I felt my mind turning, as though twisting around in a foolish attempt to see all the books at once.
The Duke walked before me, and then turned and smiled. “It is acceptable?” he said.
“It is—” I could not form words that would properly explain the glory of this room. Only a low light filtered in through slatted windows at the top, dusty with the age of books. It was every romantic dream I had ever envisioned in my youth. So rarely do we humble creatures get to really live our dreams.
The Duke laughed softly and walked through the library as carelessly as if such grandeur were the norm for him; and, I reflected, it must be. After a breathless moment I followed him to a large oak desk and chair, upon which he sat and began to write a letter. He wrote it quickly, and then handed it to me to read. It was simple and plain and undeniable. He, a Duke, wished to keep the Archer daughter here for a time. It was a great honor. I knew right away that Father would agree. I handed him the letter back and he nodded and sealed it within an envelope.
“I will send it this very day,” he said. “We will not have a reply until tomorrow, but I am sure you will stay until then?”
“Yes,” I said, far too quickly. I was finding it harder and harder to hide my eagerness.
He rose from the desk and offered me his arm. Looking around to ensure that we were not being observed, I took his arm. He led me around the library, allowing me to look more closely at some of the more interesting tomes. There were the missing volumes of Homer’s Odyssey. Upon seeing my excitement at holding these volumes, he pushed them into my hands. “They are yours,” he said.
“You cannot mean it,” I whispered, staring down at the books.
“I do,” the Duke said. “It is worth it to just see a woman who gets excited about books. Most women would rather be out there, at the fayre, but I see you are made of different material. I expect that your design has been a hindrance to you for most of your life.”
“It has.”
“That is a great dishonor to Man,” the Duke said vehemently. “I would say you are the kind of woman whom a man needs to treasure, but that would unworthy; I do not think you are any kind at all. I think you are simply Sarah Archer, a beautiful anomaly.”
I had never been flattered so endlessly. The effect it had upon me was jarring. I felt my mouth falling open like a village idiot’s, and yet I was powerless to stop it. I was in awe of this man and his words. I placed the books on the shelf, lest I drop them, stood still for a few moments. Soon he put his hands on my shoulders, gripping them firmly, and turned me toward him.
“I wish to kiss you, Sarah,” he said.