Timeless Desire by Lucy Felthouse Page A

and sixty degrees, gazing upon the beautiful room, Emily
felt like a small child at Christmas.
    The place was incredible. As a book conservator, naturally Emily’s work carried her all over the UK—and
sometimes beyond—into hundreds of libraries, but in the last five years or so that
she’d been doing the job, she’d never seen anything quite like this.
    Mrs. Thompson cleared her throat loudly, yanking Emily
out of her reverie. “I can see you’re rather taken with the place already.”
Without giving her a chance to reply, she continued, “I’ll be retiring to my
rooms soon. Can I get you anything before I go, to set you up for the evening?”
    Emily floundered for a minute, her fascination with
her surroundings and eagerness to explore having thoroughly commandeered her
brain. “Um…yes please. Could I get a pot of tea? I have drinks and some food with
me, but a hot drink would be wonderful.”
    “Of course,” Mrs. Thompson replied, moving toward the
door. “I’ll leave you to get acquainted with your new workplace.”
    And she was gone.
    Work. Yes, of course. Emily had almost forgotten why she
was here. She hadn’t even touched a book and yet somehow this room had gotten
under her skin. Looking around her once more, Emily decided not to be too hard
on herself . After all, this was a book lover’s
ultimate dream library.
    It had high ceilings, making the already huge room
seem bigger. Other than the area allotted for the marble fireplace, and two
large bay windows at either end of the room, every inch of wall space was taken
up by books. Hundreds and hundreds of books.
    Now Emily knew what the administrators back at the office
had meant when they’d said this would be no easy task. She walked around the
edge of the room, examining the great oak bookshelves and the precious tomes
housed within them. Up to about waist height, the shelves were more like
cabinets, protruding farther into the room and fixed with wire-fronted doors
designed to protect the contents. This resulted in there being a shelf running
around the perimeter of the room, interrupted only by the door, windows and
fireplace. In true stately home style, the space was cluttered with various
items, including old framed photographs, ornaments and a particularly
attractive clock.
    Having done a full circuit of the room, Emily turned
her attention to the rest of the vast space. The nooks at each end, with their
large windows, were perfect for reading. Emily guessed this was intentional in
the design of the place, and the previous owners had certainly taken advantage
of that fact, placing comfortable-looking sofas in each one. Had she not been
there to work, Emily would have loved to curl up in one of them and read a good
book. Depending on how old the sofas were, of course. She didn’t want to end up
in a pile of debris on the floor.
    Toward one end of the room, with its back to the nook
farthest from the door, was a beautiful desk. It was large and solidly built,
and Emily quickly surmised that this was the only suitable surface in the room
on which she could work. She’d have to get permission from Mrs. Thompson, of
course, but she was sure it would be okay. Working at this big, impressive desk
would be much nicer than the usual fold up tables she usually got lumbered
with. Though, truth be told, when Emily became engrossed in what she was doing,
she could be in the middle of an earthquake and she wouldn’t notice, so her
work surface wasn’t really all that important. She’d manage with whatever she
was given.
    Just then, Mrs. Thompson returned with a tea tray in
her hands. She broke into a smile when she saw Emily standing by the desk and
walked toward her.
    “Should I clear a space, Mrs. Thompson?” Emily asked.
“I mean, is it okay to move some of these things to make room…and I was hoping
I’d be able to work here, too.”
    “Of course, my
dear. I know you’ll
be careful. You wouldn’t very well be doing the job you do if you