Free Lempriere's Dictionary by Lawrence Norfolk Page A

our world to rights.’ And with that introduction, she left him alone with the Viscount.
    Casterleigh stood over the writing desk at the far end of the room. Even in the frock-coat the man was wearing, Lemprière noticed the powerful shoulders, the thickness of his arms. He gave an impression of strength only barely held in check by his surroundings. When he turned to greet his guest there was a quick, strong control to his movement which was echoed in the lines of his face. His greying hair was swept back over his head and his eyes, fixed on whatever object they chose, seemed not to blink. A large, roman nose gave him a hawkish appearance.
    ‘Thank you for coming to our aid, Mister Lemprière. It is quite fortuitous that an island of Jersey’s size should hold the man for the task.’ He toyed with a paper knife on the desk. ‘I have given instructions to Mister Quint, with whom, I believe, you are formerly acquainted?’ Lemprière nodded. The Viscount stared him squarely in the face. Lemprière was beginning to feel he was being scrutinised more thoroughly than the situation demanded. ‘To work then. Until later, Mister Lemprière.’ He extended a large hand.
    ‘Yes,’ replied Lemprière. His hand was gripped then released. The Viscount watched as a maid appeared and conducted him through a door in the wall adjoining that through which he had entered. They crossed a corridor then paused at a second door. The maid knocked and, hearing no reply, ushered Lemprière into the room which housed the library.
    ‘Thank you,’ he murmured, as she left him. The door clicked softly shut.
    The shelves were stacked from floor to ceiling. The highest, six or eight feet out of reach, were served by a ladder mounted on castors which ran in brass tracks set into the floor. A long table of polished walnut ran almost the length of the room to a large window which admitted a pale, luminous light. At the other end of the table, a mahogany long-case clock softly ticked away the seconds. The air was heavy with a dry, musty odour. Essence of books, Lemprière breathed.
    He looked around the room and his eyes widened. Moroccan leather bindings of red, blue and olive, elaborately tooled and inscribed in gold and silver. Enamelled Cloisonné bindings from Germany, pointillé bindingsfrom France, perhaps even the work of the Gascon, he speculated, before the gleam of parcel gilt silver caught his eye, the hand of Gentile? The collector of this library was a rival to Grolier. Juliette had given the impression that the collection was the rag-ends of a country seat fallen on hard times. He was unprepared for a latterday Alexandria. Here was fine work by Derome and Dubuisson, several from Padeloupe, the master to both. The fantastic designs and floral extravagances of the Le Monnier group held his attention for a moment, before Payne’s characteristic leather-lined spines tempted him. Stormont, French Shell, Antique and a thousand other marblings accompanied scrolling dentelles, intricate cartouches and endpapers of every imaginable hue. A lexicon of the binder’s art unfolded with the pages of each book as Lemprière picked up one, only to replace it when another caught his eye. Here was the
Astrolabdium
of Johannes Angelus, Ascham’s
Toxophilus
, the
Book of Hours
in Latin and Dutch. Many strange books of which he had never heard held him for a moment:
Decades de Orbo Novo
from the pen of Pietro Martire d’Angheri, Ibn Bakhtishu’s
On the Uses of Animals
, Ludwig Holberg’s
Nikolai Klimii Iter Subterraneum
.
    Every land he could think of seemed to be represented somewhere in the library. And every age from the church fathers to the latest authors. Encyclopedias, devotional manuals, works of poetry and science, pamphlets and handbooks, all were ranged on the shelves which encircled him. He moved up and down, fascinated by the accumulation of learning before him. The volumes seemed to be organised thematically. Blith Hancock’s
The