"I don't think it's been redecorated since they built the house, so I guess it did - kind of. Well, I'll leave you to settle in and show Ben his room. I'm next-door."
Ben trooped out behind her. "He seems a bit perkier. It was a good idea to get him away."
"Yes, thank God. Here's your room. It's not so grand, I'm afraid," Ellie said, opening the door into a smaller proportioned but still large room. The white walls were paneled with gilt trim, and another four-poster bed filled the room. Ellie patted the white comforter, and a cloud of dust puffed up into the stale air. "Dust is de rigueur in this house," she sighed. "I'll see if I can find you something a little cleaner."
Ben watched as she walked over to the chest of drawers, opened the deep bottom drawer, and removed another large comforter and sheets. "You certainly know your way around the place."
"It's my home away from home. I spent every summer between here and Scarab's Rest, and after my grandfather died, my grandmother and I spent every Christmas here."
"What about your parents? You don't mention them much."
"Oh, they were always preoccupied with some dig or the other. They didn't have time for the frivolity of Christmas or holidays." The words were said carelessly enough, but Ben heard the pang of sadness behind them. Bertram couldn't be too bad a dude. He seemed to have provided a degree of stability and warmth to Ellie's childhood.
"The bathroom's across the hall. The plumbing is a bit temperamental, so be careful. I’ll unpack and then we can look around,” she said, withdrawing from the room.
Fifteen minutes later, Ellie led them up to the top floor of the house. "I can't wait for you to see this," she said, linking her arm with Gerhard's and sliding open a door. "This is my favourite room. Welcome to Bertram's library."
Gerhard and Ben stared in disbelief. The library encompassed the entire top floor of the house. Half-pavilion, half-room, the library was a monument dedicated to the worship of books. The rear third of the room was a domed glass pavilion with a double-height glass wall constructed of elaborate arches. Interspersed between them were roundels of stained glass, each showing a famed author reading one of their own works; Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Plato rubbed shoulders with Sophocles and Dante. Mantling the entire panorama was a pyramid in vibrant blues and greens flanked with the motto “sapienta, scientia, fides”.
"Wisdom, knowledge, and belief," Ben translated under his breath.
Ellie went up to a glass reading table supported by large barley twist crystal legs, which ran the full length of the window. “I spent more hours than I care to remember doing research for Bertram at this table. A distant relative of Bertram’s spent a king’s ransom on landscaping the gardens and was furious that the view was ruined by the old wooden library table, so he threw it from the window and commissioned this. Seems Bertram didn’t fall far from the tree.” She turned to admire the view over the heavily wooded gardens beyond.
“Did you do a lot of research for Bertram?” Ben asked, intrigued at the thought of a young Ellie ensconced in this mahogany-encased monument to knowledge.
“Yes, although I often sneaked out to enjoy the bustle of Portobello Market.” She smiled, lost in memories. “This room is so cosy when the fires are roaring on a cold winter day,” she said, trailing her hands along the friezes of autumnal fruit on the large marble fireplace, which was mirrored by a twin on the other side of the room. Ellie stared into the large gilded mirror that topped the fireplace, reflecting the weak autumn sun around the room. “My grandmother would make afternoon tea, and we’d settle down on couches and play charades. Bertram always insisted we could only guess characters that had lived at least one thousand years before. They were happy days.”
Gerhard was wandering around the room. Books were everywhere, the shelves full to bursting with leather-bound tomes and humble paperbacks. Books were piled high on the side tables and in messy groups around chairs and sofas. The library had the light atmosphere of a well-loved and much-used room.
"This is quite some room, Ellie," Ben said, running his fingers along the long mahogany shelves.
"Yes - it's a real library. A room that has evolved with the tastes of a long line of book-lovers. I always hate those pristine libraries you see in stately homes, where the shelves are so perfectly coordinated that you know no one has ever taken a book from the shelf. This is a room to rummage in and then to sink down and lose yourself for hours. I love it - wunderbar, ja erstaunlich."
Ellie smiled. She'd hoped the library would release him from the fog he'd been in since the fire, and it seemed it might already be working its magic.
“It’s fantastic, isn't it? I've always loved it. It looks like Bertram has been wreaking havoc. Every time I visit, I organise the room, and invariably, every time I return, it's in chaos again. He's a human mess creator." She leaned down and lit the fire, which roared upwards in a pleasing glow, and then turned and lit the other. "There. That should warm the room nicely. Why don't you two hang around here, and I'll rustle up tea and crumpets? I won't be a mo."
After she left, Ben turned to Gerhard. "I'm glad to get you on my own. I've been thinking about the Gayer-Anderson cat, and I have an idea, but it must stay just between you and I."
Ben sank down into one of the leather chesterfield chairs next to the fire. Once Gerhard took the other, he laid out his complex plan. Gerhard listened intently, eyes raised at the audacity of Ben's idea and occasionally adding a twist of his own.
"You realise, my dear boy, I dabble in magic and illusion. I can add to your idea." They fine-tuned the plan, and when Ellie returned with crumpets dripping with butter, she found them reading quietly.
Bertram
The three wasted away the rest of the waning afternoon in the library, Ellie tidying and Ben and Gerhard exploring the depth and range of the collection. They were in the middle of a good-natured but heated debate on the merits of an organised library when they heard the front door slam and "Elena!" bellowed at considerable volume up the stairs.
"It's Uncle Bertram," Ellie explained somewhat unnecessarily to the men. "I must run down and greet him. Wait here, and I'll bring him up to say ‘hello’."
"Elena - where are you, my girl?"
"Coming, Uncle Bertram," she shouted as she ran from the room, reminding Ben of an elegant young colt.
They didn't need to wait long. A huge man with white, bushy hair and dressed in a dark twill suit, matching waistcoat, and claret bowtie bounded into the room. "Ah, we have company! How divine. This young buck must be Ben. Elena informs me you are a Yank – well, never mind. I'll try not to hold it against you. How do you like my little library?"
One sentence ran into another, barely allowing room for breath and certainly not allowing for them to respond.
"And you must be Herr Webber. I find it hard to believe Elena invited a Kraut to stay, but I have just returned from your motherland, so I'll stretch my tolerance just this once. Welcome, welcome. Has Elena fed and watered you? Elena, have you tended the needs of our guests? Young women are so frightfully remiss as hostesses these days, don't you find?"
Feeling a little as if they had been hit by a run-away juggernaut, Ben understood why the normally good-natured Charlie took such an intense dislike to the force of nature stood in front of them. But he was oddly charmed by him and understood Ellie's abiding affection for her godfather.
Gerhard stood to attention and took a deep bow from the waist. "Professor Montague, it's indeed a pleasure to meet you, and I would like to extend our gratitude for your hospitality. I completely understand your apprehension about our nationalities as I took an age to adjust to having so many Brits in my vicinity, but that's the peril of living in England, I fear."
The room was silent; both Ellie and Ben were shocked at Gerhard's sharp retort. Bertram studied Gerhard, then roared with laughter and slapped him hard on the back. "Excellent response. We'll get on rippingly. What about you, boy? Are you always so circumspect, or have I shocked you into silence?"
He chortled. "I like them, Elena. Yes, they will do. It's so rare to be able to engage in verbal sparring these days. Everyone is younger and junior to me, and for some unknown reason, I seem to intimidate them. But there really is nothing like it for rejuvenating the mind. Now your mother and father, they are master debaters, but no one comes close to Elspeth, your grandmother. She was a rare creature. Her mind on idle was a thousand times faster than anyone else I knew, and she had the courage of her convictions. No one could out-argue Elspeth. I miss the old goat. I'm uncertain what happened to you, my girl. You pale in comparison. Still, with a little seasoning, you may mature into your intellect."
Ellie raised her eyes to the heavens and reached up onto her toes to plant a kiss on Bertram's cheek. "And I've missed you too, you old reprobate. Now stop intimidating my friends and tell us about your trip."
"I will after I've poured us all a tot to drink. What's your pleasures, gentlemen? Elena, my case is by the front door. Could you launder the clothes within it? Mrs. Tarquin is frightful at laundry. She overdoes the starch; the shirts always feel like suits of armour. Good for posture but damnably uncomfortable."
The next morning, over breakfast, Ben informed them he'd organised to catch up with an old college friend.
Ellie stared at him in shock and was about to question whether this was the right time for frivolities when Gerhard said, "Excellent idea. Good to let some steam out. Ellie, would you be so kind as to accompany me to the theatre? I've booked tickets for a matinee performance of a modern interpretation of Much Ado About Nothing. I find Shakespeare so much more accessible when modernised. We all need a change of scenery and mood. Don't you?"
"Which theatre will you be going to?" asked Ben. "I'll make sure I meet my friend in that vicinity and then we can meet up later for a bite to eat."
"Well, as you young people say, 'that sounds like a plan'. We'll be in Shaftesbury Avenue at the Gielgud Theatre. I find myself pleasantly excited at the prospect."
Ellie smiled at Gerhard, happy to see him coming back to life. "It sounds like I have a date with a rather gorgeous older man," she said, winking at Gerhard.
Ellie tucked her arm into the crook of Gerhard's as they walked from the theatre to meet Ben. "That was sublime. I must admit it was a bit shocking to have it transposed into the collieries of Merthyr Tydfil, but once I got over that, it was brilliant."
"Mmm, well, the broad Welsh accent didn't help me understand everything, but it was an unusual interpretation. Ah, there's Ben," Gerhard acknowledged, raising his hand and waving.
Ben sauntered towards them, swinging a bag and smiling cheerily. Ellie couldn't help noticing all the admiring stares he garnered from the women he passed.
"Hello, my trusted friends. How goeth Shakespeare's fine play on this eventide?"
"You are remarkably chirpy. Had a good afternoon, did you?" Ellie sniped at him.
"Um, yes, it was brilliant to catch up with Cindy again. She always entertains me."
"I'm sure she does," Ellie muttered under her breath.
"Watch out, Ellie, or I might just think you're jealous."
"When hell freezes over," she flashed back at him.
"Ah, the lady doth protest too much," he replied with a wink. Ellie studiously ignored him and guided them towards their chosen restaurant. It was one of her favourites – Maison du Campagne.
The maître d’ welcomed them into the dark, wooden paneled room and guided them to a table topped with a crisp, white linen tablecloth and surrounded by plump leather chairs. Ellie took a deep breath and smiled.
“I just love the smell of this place. It hasn’t changed since I was a child. My grandmother used to bring me here at least once every time we visited Bertram.”
They took their seats and accepted the menus from the maître d’.
“Today’s special is moules marinière,” the maître d’ stated with a smile. “Thomas will be your server. I’ll send him over to take your orders”.
They studied the extensive menus in companionable silence until Thomas arrived.
"I'll have the salmon en croute with the watercress salad, please. And may we have a bottle of your Châteauneuf-du-Pape?" said Gerhard, closing the leather-bound menu and returning it to the elegantly clad waiter.
"Certainly, sir. Which year do you prefer?"
"I'll trust your sommelier's judgement. I'm sure he will recommend the best," he replied with a gentle chuckle.
Once the waiter finished collecting the menus and left the table, Gerhard turned his attention back to his two friends.
"We are facing the calm before the storm, so a little treat is in order. Now we need to decide our course of action for tomorrow's visit. What do we want to achieve, and what questions need answering? Best to go into the meeting prepared and organised. Then we will maximise our effectiveness and be prepared for whatever eventuality our spherical friend brings forth. Don't you agree?"
Ellie nodded. "Yes, it would be good to predict what the sphere or familiars might do. I don't want to explain this whole thing to Uncle Bertram or his colleagues, especially as we don't really understand it ourselves."
"I've been thinking about this a fair bit, and it seems to me that the statue and Gerhard are strongly linked. I fear that the sphere will be activated when the two become close, but remember that only we see anything. So, as long as we school our expressions to remain neutral and try not to talk, we should be able to hide the event from anyone around us. Ellie, maybe you could pretend to faint, and whilst the museum people tend to you, Gerhard and I could observe the reaction of the sphere. No one would question us. They know men are bad in these circumstances. We can always explain away your faint. After all, you have been under tremendous stress recently."
"Because I am the girl, I have to be the one that faints?"
"No," Ben answered, "because Gerhard has the link to the statue, and I’m in disgusting good health, so it would be far less believable if I fainted. As there are only three of us, that leaves you. Believe me, both Gerhard and I know that you'd be the last one of us to faint. But Bertram, well, he sees you as the weaker sex, so it would be completely understandable to him."
Ellie stared at him for a moment and then raised her shoulders in acknowledgement of the truth of Ben's words.
"Okay, fainting lady I am. But don't think I like it."
"We'd never dare to, my dear," Gerhard said, patting her hand.
The return of the waiter closed their conversation, and they all settled down to enjoy the gourmet meal.
The British Museum
They enjoyed a lavish and somewhat leisurely breakfast with Bertram, who didn't pay attention to the normal constraints of time. Afterwards, the four hailed a black taxi and joined the maelstrom of traffic congesting the capital's roads.
London, more than many other cities, was a melting pot of creeds, religions, cultures and philosophies. Ben found it fascinating to observe as the taxi took them towards the museum. Looking out the window, he saw shops selling Halal food neighbouring Kosher markets and Chinese wholesalers next to Italian restaurants. It reminded him of New York. Every face told a story of multiculturalism at work, blended with greater harmony than he saw in many European countries.
Ellie smoothed down her skirt and fidgeted with her hair. Ben watched her, thinking she'd be even more nervous if she knew about their plan. He gave her a wink and turned his attention to Bertram, asking a ream of questions about the British Museum's impressive collection of Egyptian artifacts. As he hoped, Bertram then waxed lyrically for the rest of the journey, distracting Ellie's nerves.
“It’s an outrage! That philistine stripped the cat of its original patination and decorative history. Do you know when Gayer-Anderson first purchased the cat, it still had its ancient verdigri
s and flakes of ancient red paint on it? He stripped it – and he called himself a cultured man. Cultured my ass. He desecrated it. Though, to be fair, he did at least make a fair attempt at the restoration of its head. Well, for the time.”
Eventually, the taxi drew up outside the imposing museum entrance, and they piled out.
"Morning, Stanley. Please sign in my guests," said Bertram, waving at the trio.
"Good morning, Professor Montague. I'm not Stanley. I'm Rupak. Rupak Pau."
"Well, I'm blowed. What happened to Stanley?"
"He retired four years ago. I'm his replacement."
Bertram peered at him over his glasses. "But I've said ‘morning, Stanley’ every day."
"Yes, sir, you have – but to me, not Stanley."
"Goodness, man. You can't steal a man's identity and expect to get away with it. You're a security guard. You're meant to enforce the law, not corrupt it. Does your supervisor know you have been impersonating Stanley for years?"
"Everyone knows I am Rupak except you, sir."
"So, you have been fooling me? I fail to see the merit of this extraordinary deception. What did you expect to gain from it?"
Ellie took Bertram's arm and led him to one side. "Uncle Bertram, the poor guy has been trying to tell you, and you've been absorbed in your own thoughts and not realised."
"Nonsense, Elena. I am not an absentminded fool. I am a man of learning and intellect."
"I know you are, and a self-absorbed and forgetful one at that. Stop blustering and just remember the guy's name."
"What is his name?"
"Rupak."
"What kind of name is that? No wonder I can't remember it. Young man, I will call you Stanley from now on. It's a fine British name, and it suits you greatly. Please sign in my guests, my good man."
Shaking his head, Rupak signed in Ellie, Ben, and Gerhard and gave them visitor lanyards. Ellie smiled gently at the man whilst raising her eyes to the heavens.
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