Nell held back a gasp.
Swann had done it.
He had managed to sway Irene just enough to give her an opening.
Everything she wanted—her reputation, her job, her library, her life—within reach again. If there was anyone with enough power to force the academic community to accept her back into the fold, to give her a fighting chance to prove herself again and restore her name, it was the chair of the NYPL.
“I promise I’ll figure out what my father was working on,” Nell finally said, fists clenched in determination.
Irene nodded, pleased. “This was supposed to be a surprise, but the board has been planning on renaming a portion of our collection after Dr. Young for some time. It’ll be a bittersweet honor now, but I think it’s even more important that we do it.”
Nell gasped. “That’s incredible.” Someone in her family would have a collection in the New York Public Library named in their honor. It made her dizzy to imagine. And, despite their history, she had to admit her father deserved it. No other scholar in recent memory had brought in the priceless maps he had.
Irene smiled. “I’m glad you think so. The invitations are being sent today. There will be a small ceremony at the library on Sunday night, where we’ll unveil the dedication.” Her expression grew solemn again. “The police will be there, just for safety’s sake. That might be the perfect time to inform them of Dr. Young’s possible significant project as a potential motive for the crimes and let them take over from there.”
“That’s just two days from now,” Nell replied, alarmed. Barely enough time to even conduct an ink analysis on an incoming exhibit specimen, let alone to complete the kind of research she’d require to be fully confident she had the map Irene needed, and why.
Irene grimaced slightly. “I’m afraid if we wait any longer, we could look suspicious, which is the last thing we want for the library, after everything that’s already happened.”
Nell fought down her fluttering panic and managed to nod. “I understand,” she said.
“I’m glad. But I know how you feel. If possible, I’d so much rather have one of our own”—Nell thrilled secretly at the phrase our own including her again after so long—“solve this part of the puzzle. Someone who knows and loves maps the way Dr. Young did.”
“I won’t let you down,” Nell replied.
Irene smiled again and glanced at her watch. “Thank you for your help, Nell. I look forward to seeing you Sunday—and to welcoming you back to the library properly, I hope.”
As Nell stood by the window, watching Irene rush through the front door and flag down her driver, she crossed her arms and held her breath to stop herself from bursting into hysterical laughter in the middle of her father’s funeral reception.
She was so close.
So close to getting back everything he had taken from her.
The deadline seemed impossible, but if anything, she was even more determined now. She would not let this second chance slip through her fingers.
A blur of motion caught her attention, and Nell glanced up to see Francis heading out of the main party and down the hall.
“Francis,” Nell called.
But when he saw her, his pace only quickened.
“Wait!”
Nell dashed after him, ducking between guests as she made for the same hallway. She was sure she knew the house better than he did—he must not have realized that the corridor he was heading down dead-ended in Swann’s large study, which had no exit. He’d end up cornered, with no excuse not to speak with her. After her conversation with Irene, she would not let him leave without getting her answers.
She rounded the corner in time to see Francis reach the study door. He had his drink in one hand and a small paper of some sort in the other, and used his shoulder to push it open.