"I can't make any promises, but we'd be happy to try," Bartie agrees and my grandfather chimes in as well.
Trevor's comment reminds me of something I wanted to ask him. "Trevor, what will happen to Beadle? And Joyce, for that matter?"
"Joyce was granted bail and is staying with her parents while she awaits her trial. Beadle, however, is still locked away. He is shouting to anyone who will listen, telling them magic exists. Of course, no one believes him. I think his lawyer is planning to claim insanity, but it will be a tough battle. The staff at both the Ashmolean and the Torture Museum have provided statements attesting to his sanity."
Edward leans forward to grab another croissant and relaxes back into his chair. "I'm glad it is all over. I have several conference deadlines looming over me, and a new course to deliver next term. I could use some quiet to catch up on my day job."
Harry twists in her seat, glancing between me, Kate, and Mathilde. "You three are quiet. Why don't you look happier?"
Mathilde is the first one to reply. "I am happy, of course. We all are. Yet, I have to admit that despite all the stress and worry, the last few months have been some of the most exciting ones in my life."
Kate and I nod, encouraging her to continue.
"I know Nat and Kate love their jobs here as much I love mine. And I'm sure there is still much we can learn about the magic and how we can utilise it to help the university. But I can't help but be a little sad to think our lives will go back to… well… normal."
My grandfather rises from his perch on the window seat and moves to the front of the room. "Do all three of you feel this way?" He waits until we all nod our agreement.
"In that case, I've got a couple of Eternals who would like the chance to speak with you. Is it okay if I bring them over?"
Mystified, I tell him to go get them.
❖
After my grandfather disappears, I raise my eyebrows and look at Bartie and H. "Do either of you know where he has gone?" Both shake their heads, looking equally baffled.
Within minutes, my grandfather is back. He appears on the other side of the room, in the open space near the dining room. Behind him stand two men, Warden John Wilkins and Sir Christopher Wren.
I struggle to keep my expression free of any sign of my inner turmoil. While I am grateful the men ended Hobbes' evil existence, I am still bristling from the way Wilkins treated me that day at Somerset. If he hadn't dismissed me and my friends, hadn't all but blamed us for Beadle and Hobbes' actions, would I have rushed off to the Botanic Garden on my own?
From my seat in one of our armchairs, I can see Mathilde and Kate out of the corner of my eye. They, too, are taking great care with their own responses to the men's sudden appearance.
Wren steps forward, preparing to address the group, but Wilkins reaches out a hand and stops him.
"No, I should go first," he murmurs to Wren. Sir Christopher gives him a questioning look, but eventually cedes the floor.
While Wilkins clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, my grandfather returns to his place on the window seat. Perhaps making his allegiance clear? I wonder to myself.
Finally, Wilkins speaks. "Nearly four centuries ago, Wren and I stumbled across the existence of the magic of Oxford. Although we were good friends, at the time, I was Wren's advisor. It fell to me to make the final decisions of whom should be brought in on the secret. Having lived through the terrible war years, I feared what such knowledge might bring. More battles, invincible troops, ancient warriors. And so, I set forth strict rules — the magic would be limited to the very few, for the benefit of the many."
I hold my gaze steady, not daring to move my eyes from Wilkins. Where is he going with this speech?
He crosses his arms, almost defensively, but just as quickly uncrosses them. "In the beginning, Wren, I, and the others stayed close to Oxford. First our children, and then grandchildren were born with the ability to interact with the Eternals. Who better to entrust with the responsibility for keeping the secret than our own bloodlines? We lived our lives and then returned as Eternals. Eventually, however, the passing of time began to weigh on us. We drifted further and further away from the colleges, exploring our new Eternal world."
Wren steps forward, taking his place beside Wilkins. "As Eternals, we guided the early prefects in the creation of the materials they would need to sustain the magic. Then we insisted they hide away our journals and papers in a safe place. They chose Barnard College, as you all now know. But there was one piece of information we kept solely to ourselves. It was never written and never passed on."
Mathilde, enraptured by the men's tale, leans forward and hazards a guess. "The secret of how to connect to the magic in the first place?"
"Indeed," Wilkins says, smiling at her with approval. Soon enough, his expression turns grim. "We thought we were so clever, hiding the real key away and ensuring the magic could never expand beyond the boundaries of the university. In doing so, we unknowingly opened ourselves up to another risk."
"The risk that someone might aim to steal the connection, by stretching the borders far beyond their limits," Wren explains, taking over again. "If Beadle and Hobbes had known how to make a connection of their own, perhaps they would have left you all in peace. Wilkins, I, and our group of fellow philosophers should have foreseen this possibility and put in place protections against it."
Wilkins sighs heavily, his expression pained as he turns his gaze to me. "I owe you an apology, Miss Payne. I should never have treated you the way that I did, questioning all your actions. I had my back up, and it was easier to blame you three prefects than it was to admit my own culpability. You paid a heavy price and sustained injuries because of my selfish actions, and for that, I will be eternally sorry." He lifts his hands up and then lets them fall.
Wilkins is so utterly downtrodden, I am unable to hold on to my indignation. I release the breath I didn't realise I was holding in, letting it whoosh out in a rush. Edward leans over and pats my hand, as I give Wilkins a small smile of forgiveness. None of us are free from mistakes, myself included.
Wren takes the lead again. "The world as Wilkins and I know it, has not existed for hundreds of years. It has changed time and time again, in dramatic ways. Our restrictions, guidelines and protections are no longer fit for purpose. Strangely, in many ways, Hobbes was right. Oxford is no longer the centre of the academic world. Discoveries are made by many, in places far and wide."
Kate shifts, drawing our attention. "What are you trying to say, Sir Christopher?"
Wren glances at Wilkins and then at my grandfather, making a final check of their agreement. Neither of the other men intervenes, leaving it to Wren to answer Kate's question.
"Natalie, Kate, and Mathilde, you are the prefects. You may have been born of the right bloodline, but you have also shown you are immensely capable and worthy of your roles here at Oxford. You have borne up under incredibly difficult circumstances and stood strong in the face of unimaginable challenges."
Wren points at himself and Wilkins. "In our day, we valued the pursuit of knowledge above all else. The status quo was a starting point, our gains came from being willing to push the boundaries and experiment with new ideas and theories. We laughed in the face of anyone who dared to suggest that things could only be done a certain way. Of all the prefects over the centuries, you three alone have exhibited this same willingness to try and fail, to break the rules to accomplish the unthinkable."
Wren pauses to open his coat, rifling through an inner pocket to pull out two yellowed scraps of paper. He takes three steps forward and holds them out for me to take.
The paper is filled with spidery handwriting, almost illegible. Bewildered, I pass them to Mathilde. She stares down at the top sheet, her eyes narrowing as she reads the words.
"Wait!" she exclaims, her head snapping up, eyes bright with excitement. "I know what these are. They're the missing pages from your journal — the one we found in Barnard's secret chamber. But I th
ought Hobbes and Beadle had taken them."
Wren looks suitably impressed, turning around to make sure Wilkins has noticed Mathilde's quickness as well. "I tore out these pages and hid them separately, reclaiming them when I returned as an Eternal. They were never in the secret chamber. No prefect has seen them… until now."
Mathilde flips the page over, her mouth moving silently as she skims the paragraphs of text. She looks up, her mouth hanging open, and just as quickly looks back again at the pages.
"What is it, Mathilde? What do they say?" Kate asks, trying to read over Mathilde's shoulder.
Mathilde raises her head, her eyes wide. When she speaks, her voice is barely louder than a whisper. "These are the instructions for creating a new connection to the magic. The list of materials, the exact mixture of metals, how to position them in the room…" she trails off, suddenly overwhelmed by the momentousness of the information in her hands.
The hair on my arms stands up straight as my mind grapples with Mathilde's words. Kate is equally stunned, sitting speechless with her hand covering her mouth.
Wren smiles broadly for the first time since he appeared in my front room. Even Wilkins looks pleased.
Clasping his hands behind his back, Wren addresses the room. "Natalie, Mathilde, and Kate, to you three we entrust the true key for connecting the magic to Oxford. Where will you take it next?"
Post Mortem at Padua
Oxford Key Mysteries - Book Five
Nat, Kate, and Mathilde’s adventures will continue in Autumn 2021 when they visit Oxford’s twin city of Padua, Italy.
Sign-up for Lynn’s newsletter to keep up with the latest news, cover reveals, release dates, special offers, and more.
Sign up at: LynnMorrisonWriter.com
The Eternal Investigator
An Oxford Key Mysteries Novella
May 1941 - Money is missing from the coffers of St Margaret College.
Bartholomew Kingston is on the cusp of figuring out who is siphoning funds from St Margaret College when his friend Clark reminds him of their evening plans. He sets his papers aside and travels to London for a night out on the town.
When he returns to work he makes a startling discovery: he’s dead. Even worse, Bartie is horrified to find he is being blamed for the theft.
As Oxford’s newest Eternal, Bartie learns he has some new tricks up his sleeve. With the help of the other Eternals, can Bartie find the real culprit? Or will his name be tarnished forever?
The Eternal Investigator will be available on Amazon on March 1, 2021. Pre-order your copy now.
Leave a review
Indie authors like me depend on your reviews and recommendations to help us attract new readers. It only takes a minute to leave a review on Amazon, but it makes a world of difference to my success. So why not let others know what you thought of Sabotage at Somerset?
Post a review on Amazon.
Acknowledgments
This book started with a phone call from my mother.
“Make me a character in your book,” she said.
“Okay, do you want to be a good character or a bad character?”
“Bad. Obviously.”
And so I spent the next two months crafting a story around an evil-intentioned young woman named after my own mother. Anyone who knows my mom will not be surprised by her request. She and I are united in our appreciation for the “bad guys” - always preferring the Evil Queen to the milquetoast heroines. There is something uniquely freeing in giving yourself permission to cheer for the wrong team, to put yourself in their shoes and see the world through their eyes.
Thanks to my mom for standing behind me and cheering me on.
Next, as always, my editorial team. My developmental editor (Inga Kruse) and my alpha reader (my dad) suffer through a drip-feed of chapters, getting them one at a time without knowing where the story is going. Nonetheless, they persevere with me, never hesitating to tell me when my writing has gone awry. Anne Radcliffe, my copy editor and grammar queen, took on a larger role with this book, coaching me through traditional story arcs and asking thought-provoking questions. I love that we can message each other, out of the blue, with some oddball writing remark and end up in a twenty minute discussion via messenger.
To Emilie Yane Lopes, my brilliant cover designer. I threw a bunch of photos at her and as always, she came through with another great cover.
To my readers and fans - after Arson at the Ash, I was sure this book would be the last in this series. I was burnt out and ready to move on to something new. But getting your emails and messages, and being able to see how much you love these characters, made me give them a second look. Thank you for propping me up, cheering me on, emailing notes about typos, leaving reviews, and patting my head while telling me I’m pretty.
To the indie author community - I cannot say enough thanks. From group promos to newsletter swaps, answering all my questions and organising giveaways, I have so enjoyed being part of this incredible community.
A shout-out for my “day job” clients who showed endless patience as I juggled deadlines and writing time. Thanks for being so understanding.
A big thanks to my mother-in-law, who endured ten days of quarantine in our house, playing never-ending rounds of board games with my kids, so I could write over the Christmas holidays.
Finally - thanks to my husband, kids, and cats. This topsy-turvy year is one we will never forget. I am so thankful for the flexibility my writing career has afforded me this year. Our daily lunches and neighbourhood walks have fuelled my writing time.
About the Author
Lynn Morrison lives in Oxford, England with her husband, two daughters and two cats. Originally from the US, she has also lived in Italy, France and the Netherlands. It’s no surprise then that she loves to travel, with a never-ending wish list of destinations to visit. She is as passionate about reading as she is writing, and can almost always be found with a book in hand. You can find out more about her on her website LynnMorrisonWriter.com.
You can chat with her directly in her Facebook group - Lynn Morrison’s Not a Book Club - where she talks about books, life and anything else that crosses her mind.
Also by Lynn Morrison
The Oxford Key Mysteries
Murder at St Margaret
Burglary at Barnard
Arson at the Ashmolean
Sabotage at Somerset
The Eternal Investigator (novella)
Nonfiction (published by Fairlight Books)
How to be Published
How to Market Your Book
Sabotage at Somerset: A charmingly fun paranormal cozy mystery (Oxford Key Mysteries Book 4) Page 26