The Secret Life of Miss Mary Bennet, Katherine Cowley [books successful people read .TXT] 📗

only five years. But why would both Madame Dieupart and Lady Trafford refuse to give any details? Was there something unusual or strange about their deaths?

Speculations besieged her mind as she continued her work. Finally Mary finished—not the whole chart, for there was no reason to copy all of the information—but enough that she had the relevant details.

Armed with this new knowledge, Mary decided to return to the library. Lady Trafford was engrossed in a newspaper, so Mary did not interrupt her reading as she left. She wanted to find these names in the Bible so she could see how she had missed them before.

She went down the grand staircase, pausing briefly to look at the dome above her head. It was a cloudy day so only a dull light shone through it. She continued down, crossed the round entry room, and entered the library, her new chart with supplemental information in hand.

Only a few steps into the library she heard her name. “Miss Bennet!” It was Lady Trafford; she must have followed her out of the room and down the stairs. “You must be looking for a book. Has anyone explained the library to you?”

“I gave myself a tour the first evening,” Mary admitted. “I managed to find the section of religious books, but I cannot make sense of the library as a whole.” She was about to say that she had also found the rare books and examined the family Bible, but something made her hold back. It was embarrassment, perhaps—if she was going to talk about the family Bible, she should have done it hours ago, when Lady Trafford first showed her the chart. And she did not want to admit her failure at finding their connection on her own.

Lady Trafford gave her a thorough tour of the library. There were twelve different sections—twelve! how could one possibly have twelve categories of books?—and within each section the books were organized chronologically by publication date.

As they passed by the rare book section, which was the only section organized visually, rather than chronologically, Mary glanced at the family Bible, but, as Lady Trafford was watching her, she did not allow her eyes to linger on it. Yet she was certain that something about it had looked a little different, as if it had a slightly different shade of binding. Mary pressed her top teeth to her bottom lip as she tried to remember the exact details of the Bible from her first time in the library.

“You seem deep in thought,” observed Lady Trafford. “What troubles you?”

Mary stepped away from the rare bookshelf. If something was different about the book, she needed to figure out what it was before she asked about it. And she needed to do so privately. If possible, she preferred figuring out things without the watchful eye of others. She gestured around the library with a bit of a sour taste in her mouth for not truly answering the question asked of her, and said, “Why organize the books by the publication date?”

“Knowledge is something that builds, something that is growing and evolving. Every new text is written in reference to other texts, whether intentionally or not, and so a chronological organization allows one to see where something occurs within a conversation.”

Already, Mary could not remember all twelve categories.

Lady Trafford seemed to guess her struggle to understand the library and showed her the catalogue, a massive handwritten tome with many extra pages to accommodate the purchase of more texts. The beginning of the catalogue was organized by section and had each of the library’s books listed within its section; the middle of the catalogue had an alphabetical list by author and a chronological list of all the books; the end of the catalogue contained each book title by purchase date, with a list of relevant details, people, and events contained within. All of the sections in the catalogue cross referenced each other.

“Has Mr. Linton assigned you Alberti’s On Painting?”

Mary shook her head.

“He asked me to purchase it for my daughter, Anne. I am certain he would like you to read it as well.”

“But I am not learning how to paint.”

“It has a great deal on other topics that will be relevant to you—perspective, the history of art, and ways of thinking about art.”

Lady Trafford showed her how to find the book within the catalogue and its corresponding spot on the shelves. She gave On Painting to Mary.

“Thank you. I appreciate the recommendation and am certain it will give Mr. Linton and me more things to discuss.”

Lady Trafford smiled. “Now I do believe I should find something for me to read.”

Mary excused herself and put the book about painting in her room, as well as her family chart and the additional pages she had created. She would return and search for the family Bible later, once the library had been vacated. She wanted to rest or work on her studies, but an unease, both in her stomach and her head, prevented either. Was it wise to stay in a castle with two individuals who knowingly associated with a thief? And why was she so hesitant to accuse them?

Perhaps she simply needed fresh air to clear her head, so she left the castle through the front doors. She would use the time to learn about the rest of the estate.

She vaguely knew that east of Castle Durrington were cottages for the estate workers and other buildings, but she wanted to see for herself. She walked east on the main road that passed in front of the castle on the north. She passed a patch of forest, and then she saw the cottages, but there were not just cottages—there was a granary, a sawmill, a brickyard, and another stable, this one for the work horses. This explained why Castle Durrington was much larger and grander than Longbourn; the estate and holdings were much more expansive.

Once she reached the end of these buildings, she considered where on the estate she