AFTER A ROUND of hysterics from Lily’s mother—which her future son-in-law found rather gratifying, for he was relieved to discover the formidable woman did occasionally suffer from bouts of human weakness—Lord and Lady Trentingham gratefully accepted Rand’s offer to send for one of his colleagues, a Wadham College lecturer and physician.
Rand scribbled a note while Kit and Lord Trentingham brought the sniffling boy inside to the master bedroom. Almost as sore as his ankle was Rowan’s disappointment at missing the tour of Oxford and not getting to climb any towers. His parents both decided to stay behind and see to the patient, and so it happened that the two young men and two Ashcroft sisters set out as a foursome to explore the town. They left the others playing a game of draughts in the huge oak bed.
Rand shook his head at Lily. “I thought you said he was a monkey.”
“I should have said he’s an accident-prone monkey. He’s done worse to himself, though. He’ll be back on his feet in no time.”
“King me!” Lily heard Rowan yell as they quit the house, much later than they’d originally planned. She imagined her family’s raised voices echoing through the home on top of the construction noise, and was thankful she would be elsewhere for the next few hours.
Their walking tour started at Wadham, where Rand had begun his years here at Oxford. The college was on Parks Road, around the corner and down one street from his house. “You really live in the center of things,” Lily remarked.
“We will, yes.” Clearly trying to set his troubles aside, he took her hand as they all crossed the smooth green lawn toward Wadham’s elegant facade. “I hope you’ll like it here.”
“I love it already. This town feels so peaceful and alive, all at once.”
“Wait until it’s teeming with students.” He nodded to the porter at the stone-vaulted gateway. “Good afternoon, Dickerson.”
“Afternoon, Professor Nesbitt.”
Rand led the party into a graveled quadrangle. “Do you not go by Lord?” Rose asked.
He groaned. “Far too pretentious. Besides, I earned the title Professor.”
“But now you’re a baron.”
Lily saw Rand’s jaw set. “Here, I’m a professor.”
It seemed he was determined to keep it that way. Not that Lily minded, but she wondered what sort of a struggle he’d be up against at Hawkridge. And she could tell from the tenseness in his body that in spite of his valiant effort to ignore the letter, he was worried about it, too.
She looked around the quadrangle at the stately stone buildings, built in Oxford’s traditional Gothic style. All was quiet now, but she smiled as she pictured students hurrying to meet with their tutors, young Rand and Ford among them. “The architecture matches the old colleges, but somehow it looks new.”
“Only Pembroke is newer,” Kit said. “Dorothy Wadham built this college in 1610.”
Rose made a noise of surprise. ”A woman built Wadham? I thought Oxford was strictly for men.”
Rand nodded. “It is—even the servants in the colleges are all male. But as Nicholas Wadham’s widow, Dorothy carried out his wishes. There are portraits of them both in the hall and statues just outside it. Come, I’ll show you.”
Gravel crunched beneath their feet as he led them across the quiet quadrangle. The figures made a striking composition framing the door, King James on one side and the founders on the other. The statue of Nicholas Wadham was holding a model of the college.
“He never actually saw it,” Rand said. “They began building after his death.” He tugged open the heavy door. “Go in. The hall is beautiful.”
While the others went inside, he held Lily back, leaning close for a short, sweet kiss that left her feeling light-headed. “I think we’re going to be very happy here,” he murmured.
“I think so, too…if we get to stay.” Lily felt his arm tense beneath her hand. “Are you certain you’ll be all right traveling to Hawkridge alone?”
“I must be, since I’ve got no other choice.” He sighed, pulling away slightly. “I own it won’t be pleasant. But you heard your mother—I’m grown now, and my father can no longer force his will upon me.”
Though she couldn’t argue the truth of his statement, Lily knew that parents tended to have ways of influencing their children. She also knew Rand was harboring a great deal of resentment that might cloud his judgement where his father was concerned.
She squeezed the tense arm, wishing she could be by his side when the meeting took place. His muscles relaxed, and she let him walk her inside. Passing an entrance screen of exquisite Jacobean woodwork, she gawked at the hall’s great hammerbeam roof before her gaze dropped to the portraits of the founders. Nicholas Wadham wore a tall black hat, Dorothy a flattish cap and an uncomfortable-looking neck ruff. “They look formidable,” she said.
Kit smiled. “Considering all the pranks they’ve witnessed over the years, I suspect they’re disapproving.”
Rose rotated in a circle, taking in the solemn stained-glass windows and the long rows of tables with candelabras spaced down their middles. “I cannot picture Ford here.”
“He came three times a day,” Rand assured her, “dutifully wearing the required robe. Ford Chase was never one to miss a meal.”
Rose nearly smiled, and Lily noted with pleasure that her sister hadn’t uttered a spiteful word since the start of the tour. Could she possibly be thawing? As they exited the hall, Lily saw Kit slanting Rose a sharp, appreciative look. Well, she always had been a beauty, so long as she wasn’t scowling.
Rand took them to the chapel, so they could see its magnificent east window depicting Jonah’s whale, then turned to lead them out of the college.
“What’s this?” Rose asked, stopping by an unassuming door to stare at four lines of lettering crudely carved into the wood.
Rand smiled. “When King Charles slept in that room one night, the Earl of Rochester wrote that.”
“He didn’t.” Sounding wickedly intrigued, Rose read aloud.
“Here lies a great and mighty king,
Whose promise none relied on.
He never said a foolish thing,
Nor ever did a wise one.”
Their collective laughter rang through the empty quadrangle.
“Was the king angry?” Lily wondered.
“To the contrary,” Rand said, “he found it quite amusing. He claimed his words were his own, while his deeds were those of his ministers.”
In high spirits, they left Wadham and walked the unpaved streets. Lily already loved this city, a city so steeped in tradition that new buildings were built in old styles. She nearly burst out laughing when she noticed Lady flitting along from tree to tree, then glanced around and found Beatrix stalking them in the shadows. She decided to keep quiet about that, given that Rand was uneasy around her constant companions. But her heart sang to see that her animal friends would be comfortable here in Oxford, too.
Of course, that was assuming she and Rand ended up living here.
“The Sheldonian Theatre,” Kit announced. They all stopped to gaze up at the cupola atop its domed roof. “A friend built it,” he added, sidling closer to Rose. “Christopher Wren. His first large public building.”
Rose failed to look impressed with either the building or Kit’s friendship with the celebrated architect. “I’ve met Mr. Wren,” she said. “He attended my sister’s wedding.”
Seemingly undiscouraged, Kit tried the doors and looked disappointed to find them locked. “The ceiling inside is amazing.”
Rand nodded. “It’s painted to look like the sky.”
“But that’s just ornamentation.” Kit leaned against the double doors. “The ceiling itself is a wonder of advanced construction, designed with no columns to spoil the view. An apparent defiance of gravity, because Wren contrived all the weight to be supported from above.”
“It’s a beautiful building.” Lily paced its columned front, trying to focus on the tour and put tomorrow out of her mind. “What is it used for?”
“Ceremonies, mostly.” Rand caught up to her and took her hand. His palm felt cool and dry. “Matriculation, graduation, and the like. And the university’s printing presses are housed in the basement.”
“Can you see,” Kit put in, “the street-level windows that let in light? Wren greatly values natural light. He told me he based this building on the Theatre of Marcellus in Rome.”
Despite her unease, Lily didn’t miss the admiration in Kit’s voice. Or the touch of longing. “Have you seen the Theatre of Marcellus?”
“Sadly, I haven’t.” He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “I’d be thrilled to study the great buildings on the Continent, but I’m afraid I’m hopeless with foreign tongues. I have nightmares of never finding my way home.”
“Rose has an excellent head for languages,” Lily told him.
Her sister swung to glare at her. If looks could kill, Lily thought, she’d be deader than the sculptured heads on the railing around the building.
And things had been going so well. Lily bit her lip. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing at a random object in a graceless bid to smooth things over.
“The Tower of the Five Orders,” Kit enthused. “It’s the most unusual structure in all of Oxford.”
He led them through an archway, a short tunnel through a plain building, and into an open quadrangle. The buildings surrounding it were more imposing than the austere exterior would suggest. Many doors gave entrance, each with a Latin inscription in gold letters on a blue background.
Rose turned slowly, translating them all. “Grammar and history, logic, rhetoric. Music, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy. Philosophy.” And at the far end, “School of Medicine, School of Law, School of Theology.”
“Those three are the superior schools,” Rand explained. “Before attending any of those, one must pass each of the other schools first and receive his Master of Arts.”
Kit wandered closer to Rose again. “You are good at languages.”
She shrugged, but looked pleased. Kit was making progress, Lily thought. Flattery was one sure way to Rose’s heart.
He cleared his throat as he looked to Lily. “You asked about the tower.” It was a wondrous sight in the otherwise rather sobering surroundings. “The Five Orders display the different styles of classical architecture, distinguished by differing columns, bases, and pedestals. From the bottom to the top, oldest to newest, we have Tuscan, Doric, Ionic, Corinthian, and Composite.”
Rose looked more interested than Lily would have expected. “Who is sitting up there?”
“The statue? King James. Can you see that he’s holding a book? The Bodleian Library is behind you—it receives a copy of every new book ever published. As for the rest of the building…”
Lily listened with half an ear as Kit talked about the Gothic carving and pinnacles. Bells began ringing from the various towers of Oxford’s many colleges, their chimes all different yet harmonious. A beautiful sound. A sound she looked forward to hearing day after day, night after night, when she lived here with Rand, alone in their lovely, brand-new house.
For both their sakes, she hoped everything would work out so they could.
As though sensing her thoughts, he moved closer. When he took her hand again, she felt his thumb drawing circles on her palm, making her shiver. He smiled, not an inscrutable smile but one full of gentle teasing and unbridled affection. A smile that made her long to stay with him in this enchanting town forever. No matter what happened, she knew Oxford would always hold a special place in her heart, because it was so special to him.
He deserved to stay here. He’d already lost one home, one family. How unfair that a second home should be ripped from him, too. Lily wished passionately for Rand to build bridges with his father, but was it worth giving up everything he’d built here?
And yet, how could he have both?