Chapter 4: Back In the Stacks

Chapter 4: Back In the Stacks
Morning found Emmeline attired in her borrowed suit, seated in a black coach drawn by a fine pair of dapple greys with Don Cabrone, whilst Manuel drove them downtown to the library. The morning mists were just clearing and a wan sun was visible through the patchy fog that was retreating, to await with the moon for evenings' return.
They pulled up before the building, larger by far than Pankhurst Public, and,to Em's surprise, Daryl handed her from the coach and then gave her an envelope with his seal upon it. 'Give this to Mrs. Peel. She is the circulation supervisor and Manuel knows where to find her. I shall return at 2 p.m.' And, with that, Daryl mounted the drivers' seat and took the lines.
'Good luck.' And with a 'Walk on!' he was gone.
Well! That's a fine howdy-do, as Homer would say, thought Emmeline, watching his retreat. A short sigh and she glanced up at Manuel who stood impassive.
'Right, then.' Em took the lead and stepped up to the entrance, Manuel following like a ghost. He opened the front door for her, however, and as they entered the relative quiet of the building, their footsteps echoed in the lobby, as Manuel then directed her to a wide dark wood desk where a few people had gathered already for check-out.
Manuel strode to one end of the desk where a woman with grey hair in a neat chignon sat writing off to the side. 'Madam Peel?' he enquired.
'Yes?'she answered, not looking up. Then a moment later she spied Manuel standing there. 'Ah, Manuel! Buenos dias. I heard from Don Diego that you would be coming round.' She pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up on her nose and regarded Emmeline at last.
Em rallied and introduced herself. 'I'm Emmeline Page, Mrs. Peel.'She handed her the envelope. 'This is from Don...Don Diego. He directed me to hand it to you personally.'
Mrs. Peel stood and accepted the envelope. 'Pleased to meet you, Miss Page,'
she said, as she held out a hand, which Em took to meet her firm grip. Mrs. Peel then opened the envelope and perused the letter within, and gazed at  Em over the rim of her glasses. 'So. You worked at Pankhurst Library, then?'
'Yes, ma'am. For five years altogether. Mostly in circulation although I also worked cataloging and typing cards, sorting, shelving...the usual.'she attempted a smile.
Mrs. Peel studied her like a specimen under a microscope. 'I see. Very well!
Come with me!' She opened the half-door next to the desk and directed Emmeline
to a room in back. 'We'll have you start in sorting and check-in. We're backed up rather, from the weekend, so needs must where the devil drives us...which is... here.'
Em followed her around a corner and was gobsmacked to find a veritable mountain of books of all sizes, heaped into bins whilst busy clerks thumbed through them, writing them in on the cards or stamping them and sorting them onto carts for shelving. 'You'll have to fill out some paperwork, and we'll get you into the system as a clerk. It's a temporary position...'she paused and raised a hand to press back a strand of straying hair as she allowed a soft sigh, '...but, we're always in need of extra help.' A small smile nudged at her lips for a moment then. 'Take a break at noon, 15 minutes. Restrooms, through there, 'she gestured at a door in back of the long room, 'And staff room is on the other side. Hot water for tea is available. I shall have Manuel fetch you at 2. We shall see you tomorrow at 10 a.m.' And off she went.
Well! Apparently Em found herself back to work!
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It was around 1:00 when Em at last managed to work herself out from under the avalanche of books coming in, and was allowed out into the stacks to shelve.
She'd noticed that wherever she was, Manuel followed her like a shadow. Not obtrusively, but neither did he hide his presence, wanting her to know he was there.
While she was glad of the job, and to have some time apart from Daryl, this surveillance made her uneasy to say the least. How could she get word to Jack? And, what at this point, could she impart to him? She decided she needed to be able to poke around abit before she had any information worth reporting. Perhaps if she intimated a desire to rummage about for clothing upstairs...
She hoped that in time, Daryl would allow her about the house on her own more.
And, perhaps, her tight-lipped warden would eventually disclose some hint of what he was about. Em sighed. Would she ever be able to move freely about, anywhere, anytime? It was a problem. She'd work on it...At least she was out of the house, and away from Daryl. She glanced over at Manuel, leaning on a bookcase across the study area from her. Away from Daryl and yet the man still had eyes and ears upon her.
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'At last! Some good news!' Yeats found Jack and Aleister in the barn where they were working at tweaking Al's mobile thresher. The men had been at it all morning and were ready for a break.
'You've heard something?'Jack wiped his hands on his bandana, whilst Al clambered down from atop the engine.
'We have.' Yeats sneezed. 'Ah...may we adjourn to the porch?' Yeats had an allergic reaction to the great stacks of hay.
Jack led the way, hardly able to contain himself. He'd been wound so tight that he'd been keeping all awake with his incessant pacing or karate practice at all hours. Trying to keep himself from going mad with worry, Al knew, so he convinced Jack to give him a hand fine-tuning his corn-oil powered thresher.
Keep the man busy and maybe he'd sleep at last...
The men sat and Yeats brought out iced tea for all. 'Alright. According to my sources, Emmeline is now working part time at the San Francisco Public Library.'
'Indeed?'Jack looked at Al, surprised. 'Daryl let her...out?'
'...In a manner of speaking.' Yeats sipped his tea. 'He has a valet who keeps watch upon her during her working hours. Which appear to be 10 am to 2 pm. Which days, we aren't yet sure.'
'Hm...'Al mused. 'So, getting in touch with her would still be somewhat problematic?'
'Yes, as well as HOW we go about it.' He regarded them narrowly. 'We do not wish to scare her off. Jack.' He directed a nod his way. 'You know we must tread carefully here.'
'Of course.' Jack pretended that he was cucumber cool. Really, though he had already been speculating how best he could gently ease himself adventitiously
into the stacks and casually let her know he was ready to give aid.
'Hmmm...' Yeats regarded him, as though he knew the pathways of Jack's deliberations. 'Jack, do you still have that young lad about who does odd jobs for you occasionally, exercising Trotsky and whatnot?'
'You mean young Casey?' Jack raised a brow. 'He's about when I need him. Why?'
'He may be able to give us a hand in this...he's innocuous, would blend in at a library, being a student, and Emmeline would not find him a threat at all.'
Jack was beginning to get a clue. 'Although he could not risk speaking with her, not for long anyway, he could surreptitiously slip her a note, in a book perhaps...'  Elbows on his knees, Yeats steepled his fingers before him lost in thought. 'Yesss...that may just work.'
Jack thought it a splendid idea. To begin with at least. Surely at some point--soon, he hoped!--he would be able to see Emmeline himself. Jealous of wee Casey already... But, it's a beginning...so close, and yet so far away.
Jack sighed. 'That sounds like a plan. I shall speak with Casey...but you say we don't know her work days as yet?'
'No. We'll have to give it abit more time.' Yeats finished his tea. 'I shall compose the note. Sorry, Jack, but we can't risk having her hear from you, not yet anyway.' Yeats tried to take the sting out of his directive.
'We mustn't take a chance that she'll bolt. Could take things the wrong way, you understand. And don't even think about abduction. That worked, how well again?' Jack looked down, and nodded. 'I'll be brief. Just let her know that we are aware of the situation and keeping watch. And, most importantly, that she has the means of contacting us, should she wish it.'
He stood. 'I don't think that a communique' from me would set her to flight.'
'Right. Well. Do keep us apprised, yes?' Jack remembered himself then. 'Ah, sir.'
'Hm.' Yeats turned to go inside and collided with Dylan who came tearing round the corner, and got twisted up in their Heads' long legs. 'Aghh!' He nearly went down, but grabbed the porch railing in time. 'DO see to some obedience training for this beast, will you meanwhile!?' Yeats righted himself and with a forceful sigh, retreated within the house.
'Dylan!' Aleister snapped his fingers. 'Come on, laddie...'
'We do need to keep at him, Al. Enforce the rules...' Jack was smiling. Wasn't often they got to view their Head in any way other than cool and composed. 'Well, that was news at least! Back in the library, eh? Our girl has come full circle it seems...' Jack chewed his lower lip, musing. 'I believe I'll call on young Casey, make sure he has a fairly clear schedule soon. Still summer for a few more weeks, so no school for him as yet.'
'Righto.' Al patted Dylan. 'Sit! Dylan. Good boy.' Just then Alice poked her nose out the screen door. Dylan was off like lightning. 'Dylan!' Al yelled, grabbing his collar just in time as Alice hissed and spat, retreating.
'Needs work, that,' Jack commented, as he headed off to the stable.
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Evening deepened in the City. Emmeline was rather surprised to see that sundown actually came earlier now. Goodness, she hadn't kept track of time
for awhile now, apparently. Could it really be August already? Wasn't it just
turning summer a few weeks ago? I suppose not, she admitted.
Em headed up to The Closet. She had not only Daryl's permission but a key to the door as well. Making progress, she told herself.
As she entered, she shut the door behind her and with the lights on it wasn't
so bad at night. She headed for the trunk. Hmmm...looked as she recalled. Nothing...tell tale here.
Em gazed about her. Boxes. On the shelf above the clothes racks. She hadn't paid much attention to these before. She'd been somewhat reined in by Rosa's presence. But now...she reached up and grabbed two at once.
Taking her booty to a dressing table and chair, she sat, and opened the top most box,rectangular, covered in soft leather... a jewellery box perhaps? There was a small key. This she  turned, and it opened, smelling of old leather.
Hm. Interesting. Letters! Tied in bundles, with red ribbons. Could it be...?
Em wondered. No, love letters were far too obvious. Daryl wouldn't give her the key to his intimate secrets. Would he?
She thought of the cameo and her mothers' photo. It couldn't have belonged to her--why would anyone carry a remembrance of themselves? And certainly neither Daryl or any other man would wish to wear a cameo pin of a woman playing a lute. Curious.
'Emmelina?' She heard Rosa's voice coming up the stairway. Save this for another time, she thought and quickly closed and locked the box, stashing it with the other back atop the shelf. Secrets kept this long could bide awhile longer.
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