The Last Night in London Karen White (books for students to read txt) 📖

“True,” Arabella said. “Precious will be so excited that she doesn’t have to remember some of these details. I asked Aunt Penelope to see if there are any of Sophia’s photograph albums at Hovenden Hall, and she said she’d look. There are dozens of course, probably going back to the invention of the camera, so it’s just a matter of finding the right one.”

“I’d like to think that a house that managed to hang on to a panel of Henry the Eighth’s banqueting tent would probably still have photographs taken only eighty years ago.”

“You’re being sarcastic, aren’t you?”

“Definitely,” I said. I pointed to my laptop. “I need to use Colin’s printer. Laura said she was sure it was fine, but when I texted him to check, I discovered he’d left his phone here. Should I go ahead, or will Colin have a hissy fit?”

A male voice said from the doorway, “Colin’s not sure what a hissy fit is, but probably not.”

We both turned to see Colin. He wore a navy suit and tie, looking like the quintessential British businessman. Except for the cleft in his chin and the smattering of freckles on his nose and cheekbones, which hinted at the boy Colin tried his best to hide. He held a brown paper package tucked under one arm.

“Sorry—we didn’t know you were there,” I said.

“Apparently. I came to fetch my phone.”

“I know. I texted to ask if I could use your printer, and it pinged.” I picked his phone up from the table and handed it to him. “Also, you missed a call from Imogen. She said she put the key to the house in Cadogan Gardens in the mail slot.”

His face might have paled a bit under his tan. “You spoke with her?”

“Of course I did. It would have been rude not to.”

He looked at me expectantly, but I was enjoying myself too much to say anything else.

We continued our staring war until Arabella interrupted. “What’s in the parcel?”

Colin’s gaze shifted, and he looked at the bundle under his arm as if he’d forgotten it was there. “It was downstairs by the postboxes. I didn’t look at the address, but I’m assuming it’s for Madison.” He handed the parcel to me.

A paper grocery bag had been cut and taped together as wrapping, and there were probably twenty or more small-denomination American stamps plastered in the top right corner. Crayon pictures decorated the front and back, and my name and the address had been written in alternating colored crayons in clear block print. I brought the package to my nose, smelling the unmistakable scent of Ravished, the signature perfume of the cosmetics line that Lucinda sold door-to-door and from her shop, Lucinda’s Lingerie.

“I wonder why they used a grocery bag instead of a corrugated box,” I mused.

Colin actually smiled. “That’s your first question?”

Arabella laughed. “I think it’s adorable.”

I turned the package around in my hands, looking for a way to get through the tape. “This looks like it was wrapped at Fort Knox. I’m going to need a chain saw. I’ll open it later.” I turned to Colin. “If it’s all right with you, and you have a few minutes before you have to get back to the office, I’ll go ahead and start printing while Arabella shows you what we’ve discovered so far.”

“Sure. The power is always on.”

Although I’d passed by Colin’s bedroom door each time I went to Precious’s room, I’d never glimpsed inside. The door was always closed. Now I reminded myself that I had his permission, and there was nothing weird about this at all. I picked up my laptop, shoved it into my backpack, and juggled it with the bulky package as I walked down the hallway, then paused just a moment before I turned the knob.

It was a large room, about the same size as mine, with a big bed—neatly made—in the middle. The plain glass window faced the same side as the spare room, where we’d stored most of Precious’s clothes. I reminded myself that his accommodations in Precious’s flat were only temporary, and that was why the space was devoid of personality—which I appreciated. It was easier to work if I could pretend I was in a hotel room.

I set my laptop on his desk—clear of clutter, of course—opened up the picture folder, and selected the best photos I’d taken so far. After loading the printer with my photo paper, I hit “print” and sat at the desk to wait. I pulled out my phone to scroll through e-mails; finding nothing important enough to open, I placed it on the desk and noticed for the first time Colin’s few desk accessories, which added personality to the room.

A well-worn Rubik’s Cube sat within easy reaching distance, next to a mouse pad—minus the computer—with an image of Darth Vader battling Luke Skywalker with glowing light sabers. A stack of ancient leather-bound books held up a brass lamp. I leaned forward to examine the lamp, smiling to myself as I realized the object in the middle of the brass stem was a Golden Snitch of Harry Potter Quidditch fame. A monogrammed notepad on the corner of the desk contained doodles of interlocking circles, surrounding a pencil drawing of a dog’s face, maybe a whippet, its eyes full of expression, its ears on alert. It was pretty good, and I wondered if Colin had drawn it.

The printer stopped, and I stood to replace the photo paper with regular paper for my notes before returning to my seat, noticing as I did a wood-and-leather frame lying on its back behind the stacked books. It looked as if it had been placed there while someone had cleaned the desk, and then forgotten.

I picked it up to put it back, bumping something over with my arm as I lifted it. A small metal soldier wearing a red coat and a tricorn hat and carrying a musket lay on his face