Chapter 54: Chapter 54 – The finding

Of course, and despite his firm resolve, Willie Sayer did not immediately relinquish his affections. He was trying, yes. And so he tried to keep his distance from Madeleine as long as he could, without asking her to listen to him again and keeping contact to a minimum, reducing the interactions to what was expected of a simple postman. Obviously, his infatuation with her wouldn't pass overnight, but he was taking the right steps to put it behind. And that was something that had to be taken into account.

Oscar, for his part, was quite proud of this friend of his. It hadn't taken much persuasion to convince him that any added attempt to get closer to the protagonist would only end in disaster. Hence, at least from this problem, he could ignore it without any remorse, having the certainty that Sayer would do the right thing.

Now, what about the rest of the inconveniences?

Well, there wasn't much that Oscar wanted or felt he had to do. For now, he remained firm in his idea of ​​continuing to work as expected, ignoring any conflict in which both the author and her fatal main characters could be involved. He spent his days going from home to work and vice versa. He also used three or four afternoons each week to fulfill what had promised to Albert, visiting Thornfield and taking the opportunity to go to the library.

The employees hadn't asked him to clean, or even do any job. On the contrary, when they learned that Oscar was willing to lend a hand in that regard, they tried to convince him to stop. The villain had not granted him visits to keep him as a household slave! But, as he saw it, he felt that he would be taking advantage of his goodness if he did nothing more than go to his library when he wasn´t there, with the sole purpose of continuing with his writings.

He certainly wasn't planning on brooming the floors or sneaking into the kitchen to clean the dishes. The servants were being patient with him, but surely they would no longer be so if he invaded his space with such abruptness.

No, the help he planned to give was limited to the library. For he thought that since it was practically the only place he planned to use during his stay in the Northrop domains, the least he could do was keep it well cared for, preventing dust from reaching the shelves and keeping all the books in perfect order. So that the servants did not have to make an extra effort to keep this room neat and, also, so that when Albert returned he would find it just as he left it.

He didn't have to treat this to go out of his way, spending an entire afternoon cleaning the library, but rather something constant. It was also not difficult for Oscar to spend fifteen or twenty minutes collecting the used volumes and wiping the furniture before leaving for his inn, after he had finished the desk work he had come to do.

Perhaps all this was an elementary gesture in the century from which Oscar came; if he made a mess in someone else's house, he had to clean it up. But here, in the estates of the noblest families, things didn´t work that way. The cleaning tasks were exclusive to the servants and, although this time they ended up giving in and letting him be a participant in at least a tiny portion of their chores, that was still not well regarded.

"Oscar!" “Someone had called him on one of those days when he was planning to head for Thornfield, when he had only a few yards to go to reach the gate of the aforementioned property.

Hearing that familiar voice, Oscar turned in the direction of it. It had seemed to him that it was coming from behind, but neither on the path he was walking nor on the sides of it could there be any trace of human presence.

He considered stepping forward, ignoring the person who was most likely not calling him for anything good, and knocking on Thornfield's door as if nothing had happened. However, before she could take another step, Madeleine peeked out from behind some bushes, ever alert, glancing around before daring to approach him.

"Playing spies again?" Oscar guessed. “Sorry to put it so bluntly, but you're a bit old for those kinds of hobbies. Couldn't you try cricket, like normal people do?”

"Just so you know, I haven't traveled several miles through the jungle for fun," snapped the protagonist, annoyed by his comment, and with her usual bombast. “It was of the utmost importance that I talk to you, but they told me in the newspaper that you had already left and at the hostel that you didn't usually show up until dark. So I assumed you would run to Mr. Northrop's house, since you have nowhere else to receive you.”

"Have you been following me from town?"

"And I almost caught up with you, I was lucky that when I went to ask Mr. Simmons, you hadn't been gone ten minutes before."

"I mean, you wanted to talk to me so much that it didn't occur to you to wait for me to return to the inn, even with it in front of your new apartment. And, therefore, you decided that it would be far better to follow me across the country, without renting a carriage that could shorten your way, risking dirtying your spotless shoes. How moving, then! And here I believed it was Albert who you were going after...”

"I'm not trying anything with you, stupid!" Madeleine raised perhaps her voice too much, because she immediately did what a few moments ago; looking in all directions to make sure no one had seen or heard her. “It's just… I have something important to tell you, "she continued, in a whisper, "and I can't tell anyone else.”

"Not even that friend of yours, Dianne?"

"Less to Dianne than anyone! I've seen her stalking Patrick in recent weeks, I think she wants to steal him from me!”

"That´s good, isn´t it? With this you´ll get rid of a bad friend and an annoying ex-boyfriend. Just let them be.”

"But whose side are you on? No, don't tell me, I'm not interested! Anyway, it's not Patrick I came to complain about. Not directly, at least.”

"This is something new. What did you want then?”

"Can we talk inside?"

Madeleine asked this by pointing to the Northrop mansion, as if she were asking permission for something as common as entering the home of a close friend. Only Oscar did not consider himself as such, nor did the house in question belong to him. Hence, he did not need to stop to consider the answer.

"No," was the cutting monosyllable that shot against the protagonist's expectations.

"Come on, I swear I'm not going to touch anything without permission! You can watch me all you want to make sure I behave, I won't even blame you! In any case, do you really think that I need to invent a hasty excuse to enter Thornfield when it is already clear that Albert reciprocates my affections and since, when he returns, he will be the one who invites me? I'm telling you no! I'm quite a lady, too. I can wait patiently for my prince charming.”

"Very well, then keep waiting for him out here."

It was no longer just that Oscar had no intention of inviting Madeleine to his own apartment, imagining that it would have been there where she had waited for him. It was that it seemed in bad taste to invite her to a property that was not his.

But the protagonist was not going to give up so easily. Clinging to his arm and not intending to let go, no matter how much Oscar struggled to get rid of her, she exclaimed trying to sound as sorry as possible:

"You can't leave me like this! I know our relationship has cooled off a bit in recent months, maybe more because of you than me, but I really need your help this time! I know you dislike me now, and although I don't quite understand why, I can see that you don't want to get involved with me. I didn't even want to come talk to you!”

"Then why are you coming?" Oscar asked, trying to move into the Northrop's front yard, Madeleine still trying to stop him; she looked like she was willing to rip his arm off if he didn't fight it. “Find yourself another idiot!”

"I just can't trust anyone else, you're my last option! I said I needed your help, but believe me when I tell that it would be enough if you listened to me and gave me some advice.”

"And why didn't you meet me in town?"

“Would you come?”

The answer was so obvious that Oscar didn't need to say it aloud.

Even someone as empty-headed as Madeleine could figure it out, so she continued:

"It wasn't worth it to quote you in any public place, that's part of what I was telling you! They could be spying on me right now, which is why it is a priority for me to see us in a lonely place, without witnesses.”

Isn't this place good enough? Oscar wondered. Accompanying Thornfield were seven other mansions, all separated from each other by extensive gardens and wide paths that separated some grounds from others. As if this distance were not enough, and since the main streets of the town were at least a mile away, there was hardly any traffic through the neighborhood where they were now standing.

No, at that instant, there was literally not a single soul in the entire neighborhood. With the exception, perhaps, of the occasional employee who had left to perform his duties in the stables or gardens of one of the neighboring properties. In any case, in addition to the fact that these people were too far away to hear anything, it was not that they seemed to have a particular interest in being part of the secret that Madeleine seemed so determined to keep.

“Anyway staying a long time in front here, without going anywhere, could be dangerous! I no longer trust anyone, I tell you. Even the Tanner daughters could be plotting against me as we speak.”

"Sure, because the Tanners won't have better things to do than spy on you from behind the curtains."

"From the windows maybe not, it would be too obvious. I checked when I watched…” Changing her speech abruptly, she interjected. “Behind those rose bushes that they have next to their trellis it would be a much more subtle hiding place!”

"Well, go and see if there is someone among the bushes. Then you come back to tell me if you found it.”

It went without saying that he was not expecting to wait for her. Madeleine must have known because she, without diminishing her strength to prevent Oscar from taking more than a couple of steps in Thornfield's direction, tried to protest again.

"Is something wrong with you?"

Those two had been so absorbed in trying to get rid of each other that they did not notice that one of Thornfield's servants had spotted them from inside the house and, assuming that at least one of them would want to enter the property, took the liberty of advancing to the front of the gardens, stopping at the entrance at the key moment.

Although the butler was serious, the scene he must have witnessed must have been as unusual as it was comical. It was not every day that a grown man could be seen being dragged onto the road by a young girl who, having given up on his arm, had latched onto his hip in her eagerness to find a better foothold in order to be able to get away with it. And, heck, Madeleine could be very useless when she wanted to, but the damned woman had an enviable strength! It was no wonder that she had knocked the beggar unconscious in one fell swoop.

"It's nothing," she said, letting go instantly, and regaining her proud attitude, as if she hadn't tried to force an innocent individual seconds ago. “I was telling my dear friend Oscar that I would like to chat with him in private and, if possible, in a safe place. Of course, I would invite him to Rose Cottage for this, but since the house has already been sold and my new apartment is a bit far away...”

It's far away because you have purposely moved away from it, thought to complete Oscar. But to his misfortune, the Northrop butler turned out to be as kind an individual as his masters. And, before he could come up with an excuse to dismiss Madeleine's offers, he suggested:

"If you want, you can come in and talk inside."

“Can we?” Elated, Madeleine asked the obvious question, just to confirm, having now completely rid of her previous frustration.

Of course they could. Not because of the desire that they had in that mansion to receive one of the Cornell daughters, but because of education. If the masters did not like these young women, the servants must still have been less amused at having to attend to their whims. But, having spotted Madeleine in the company of the guest of honor, how could one not invite them both?

This was, in short, the misunderstanding that Oscar did not bother to clarify, not wanting to cause more scandal and also thinking that at least, although he could not get rid of the protagonist in the next few minutes, he could impose his own rules while they remained under the roof of the Northrop. How long could she be there, anyway? Before the butler left, leaving them alone in the library, he commented to the aforementioned that Madeleine would not remain in the place more than half an hour. And she, despite hearing him make this decision without consulting her, had not protested.

One might think that, having managed to get away with it, the protagonist would be more interested in exploring the strength of the very latest victim of her affairs than in attending to the begging and forced requests of someone who seemed anything but delighted to have to share a cabin. with her. But no. Madeleine did not wander the halls or pretend to touch anything. To Oscar's surprise, she didn't even take a seat without asking permission first.

So important must be what she came to say that, without any preamble, she began:

"Someone is trying to assassinate me."

Oscar spent a few moments processing what he had just heard. Then, with the impassiveness of someone who has been told something as irrelevant as that it has started to rain, he asked:

"Are you saying that because of the botched heist at the tavern or because of the near run over last week?"

“Both! No, wait, that's an understatement… It wasn't just for that! Since this year began, I have not stopped going from disgrace to disgrace. Albert has left without saying goodbye, Patrick still doesn't understand how he should treat a lady, and that illiterate postman… Well, at least he's putting his intensity aside. But that doesn´t obscure all the accumulation of incidents to which I am subjected! Even when it seems that everything is calm it is only an illusion. Notice that I even walk with the impression that every time I go out they´re stalking me.”

"That's called persecution mania," Oscar pointed out, as if the other had come to him for a hasty diagnosis for an as-yet unidentified disease. “I would give you hope of recovery but, I'm afraid, I'm not a doctor. And, even if I was, I'm not sure that in this time and place there is treatment for it.”

"Mania of what? What happens to me is real, I tell you! Incidents against me have not stopped happening. At first I thought they were coincidences, but that is no longer possible, because they happen too often.”

"Has something else happened that I don't know about?"

He shouldn't have asked that. He really didn't want to know! But it was the only way to get Madeleine to get started at once. And the sooner she did, the sooner he could kick her out.

The protagonist took that question as an invitation to explain. Whereas before she was extremely respectful by not touching anything or sitting where no one gave her permission, now she did settle into one of the armchairs, before the tea set that one of her maids brought a couple of minutes ago. If it weren't for the fact that Madeleine still seemed desperate, and having taken one of the cups in her hands, it was more like an informal meeting between neighbors than an assembly to combat the impending cataclysm.

"As you might have guessed, I've been so upset that I didn't feel like continuing to pretend everything is going smoothly with Patrick and his family. Which I regret for his parents, more than anything, since they proved to be excellent people with me, approving our union from minute zero.”

"I can't understand what kind of brainwashing those people would go through to have that attitude from the beginning," Oscar said in a whisper that, luckily for him, Madeleine didn't hear.

"And since I haven't been able to spend time with him, I had to find other kinds of hobbies. Do you remember when he often went out with my sisters and friends in town? It seems like an eternity of that has passed! Although it has not been more than half a year and, well, I decided to take it back to recover the family union and all those nonsense that my father says so that, in his words, we don´t fight among ourselves about the inheritance that he leaves in the future.”

"What inheritance?"

"That's what I'd like to know! Father is so wasteful ... But anyway, what was I telling: Yesterday I took Beverley and Eleonore with the intention of leaving for the countryside, to spend the afternoon picnicking by the river. Halfway there we were joined by Dianne and two of the Tanner daughters. And yes, the day passed peacefully... At first. Can you guess what human waste we found after a couple of hours of blessed calm?”

"Patrick, maybe?"

"Yeah, Patrick and a couple of his buddies! The very imbeciles had the audacity to choose that day and that place to go for a horse ride. And of course, since they saw us sitting next to some trees, on our blanket and with all the food already ready, they wanted to come by to say hello.”

"But Madeleine, that field you chose for your picnic is within the Seymour domain. It is normal for you to see him pass by.”

Oscar was certain of this due to the predictability that had always been within the protagonist in the escapades with her friends. If they were going for a walk in the fields or to settle in for a kind of impromptu picnic under the trees, they would always choose the same place. This was, some land next to the river, a few meters from a bridge where there used to be quite a crowd of people and carriages, since it was the only one that served as a connection between one shore and another in that area. If the girls stopped there, it was precisely because they liked to receive the attention of whoever passed by.

Now, fate had intended that these lands - which previously had another owner - had been acquired by Patrick Seymour when he bought Lilac Hall.

"And anyway, it's still barely ten degrees in the shade. Going on a picnic in this cold? Oscar ventured to add, "what are you thinking? I don´t know if it is true or not that someone is trying to kill you, but I already tell you that he wastes his time. At this rate you will end up dying on your own, without the need for help.”

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“How rude! You may not realize it, because as poor as you are you have to spend it locked up in an office to earn your bread, but know that it was a great day. There wasn't a single cloud and the weather was pretty mild for this time of year! It might get a bit chilly at one point, but it was bearable. We, of course, were very comfortable until that useless man arrived.”

"What did he do to make you so resentful, then? Did he try to steal your sandwiches?”

“Of course not!”

“No? How weird, stingy as he is, I could perfectly imagine him swiping some sandwiches and some cake, all to save himself from having to empty his own pantry.”

"That shameless man invited himself to stay," Madeleine continued, ignoring him. “I didn't want to but, of course, my sisters and the Tanners are in such a hurry that they almost pushed him towards the tablecloth. They spent mid-afternoon talking to him about nonsense, leaning towards him without concealing a bit how needy they are for male approval... And when it was time to get up and stretch their legs, after a long time sitting there, they invited him to join us in a walk! Can you believe it?”

“Taking someone for a walk, after a picnic, is the usual thing to do when you have guests and there is no time to do other activities such as going to the river to swim. Although, speaking of swimming, maybe you could have tried inviting Patrick to that. With the eagerness that he now has to impress you, I see him capable of getting involved and, foolishly, catching pneumonia.”

"Don't talk to me about going into the river, because yesterday I almost ended up in it. I'd swear someone tried to push me, or that I slipped, or… No, don't start asking if that was the alleged assassination attempt I was referring to. Of course it wasn't! I mean, it's not that I'm that good at walking those stony grounds, but… ” Stopping here, she inquired. “What are you doing?”

Since they arrived at the library, Oscar had not sat at the desk that Albert was once seen often owning. No, he didn't even pay attention to the tray and the freshly served tea that stood before Madeleine. He just left his things on the table, tidying them up so that later, when he could finally occupy it, he wouldn't waste any more time looking for where it stayed so he could get to work right away.

Then, while he continued to have ravings of grandeur as annoying background noise, he approached a nearby bookcase, cloth in hand and evident eagerness to leave the usual cleaning for the beginning of the session.

"Go on if you like and, if not, go away," he said. “As you see. I'll proceed to tidy this up a bit, as I couldn't focus on anything else with your constant chatter.”

“What? Are you going to start cleaning? I believed the Northrop employees were competent enough to do that without help.”

"Are you going to finish telling your story or ...?"

Or can I further shorten the half-hour time I gave you? He would have concluded. But Madeleine knew well what awaited her if she didn't get to the point, so she did no more begging and let her no longer-so-dear friend do whatever he wanted, not only wiping the shelves but taking out some volumes to remove the dust from their covers, one by one, as she continued her narration:

"Right, I hadn't gotten to the ride part yet! As I was telling you, we wanted to go for a walk because we were already fed up with sitting down. I didn't want to stay with Patrick, even if we were all together, so I suggested that we break up into small groups. I thought: Well, my friends or sisters will stay with me, but no! The very whores were still hanging from Patrick's arms... And the aforementioned was delighted! I know I'm not with him anymore, but I swear to you that sometimes I want to hit him for being insensitive. How dare he act so caramelized with strangers in front of the woman he loves?”

"You left them alone, then?" Oscar cut in.

"Not entirely, Patrick's friends wanted to come with me. Quite an inconvenience, if you ask me! Although I have to confess that they made me feel loved when they almost got into a fist fight, right there, not deciding which of the two would accompany me.”

"Certainly a most meritorious act for a couple of grown men."

"In the end I left with the two of them, so they wouldn't fight anymore, and I left Patrick to that little group of shameless people. It was when about twenty minutes passed since we separated from the rest that it happened: I had moved away a bit, because frankly so much compliment that they were giving me, added to those looks between them which made me suspect they were about to argue again for me, was overwhelming. So I walked away from both of them a few dozen meters, until I was just under a cliff. That's when happened! A stone the size of a wheel rushed towards me!”

"With the fortune that it didn't hit you," Oscar completed, deducing that, if not, Madeleine would no longer be there talking to him.

"It didn't hit me because whoever threw it, misjudged the distance. But it passed me by, almost brushing! I even ended up falling to the ground, not because of the impact, but because of the shock I got when something of such volume crashed a few feet from me. And by the way, look what a coincidence, Patrick was nearby and did nothing to prevent that from happening!”

"He cowered again, you say? Or did he not even see you?”

"Well, to be exact, I saw him in some bushes when he was walking towards the cliff. He was alone, crouched down and his back to me, so I wanted to call him to ask where he had left his entourage of prostitutes and whatnot, you know. The thing is, I did it and yes, that was when they threw the rock at me. Patrick didn't even have time to turn before it hit the ground. His excuse, you ask? Oh, he was having a bowel movement and didn't see it coming. In fact, I was still in shock when the other had not yet repositioned his roosters in place. Regrettable!” After a pause she used to glance at Oscar, she exclaimed visibly annoyed. “And don´t laugh! This is serious. I don't know who it is, but someone sure wants to see me dead!”

"That stone ... couldn't it have fallen by accident?"

"No way, it's too much of a coincidence. Those boulders haven't moved in decades, why would they choose to do it right when I'm under them?”

"Who knows, maybe they´re stones with a lot of personality."

"Oscar!"

"I don't know what you want me to do. I've had enough of playing detectives once, and especially now that Albert is gone, I'd rather not put myself in harm's way for nothing. If you want my advice, suggestions or clues that I can give you, at the most I would venture to recommend that you look for your close acquaintances. In particular, look at the ones you went to the picnic with. Were they close when the accident happened? And when did the other misfortunes happen to you?”

"They were all close by when the rock happened. At least, no one took more than five minutes to show up, asking me how I... Do you think my sisters did it?” Seeing that Oscar didn't respond, Madeleine continued indignantly. “I already said that something was up! They were being too nice to Patrick, offering him more food and keeping him company in the living room every time he came home to visit me. They want to steal him from me and for that they don't mind resorting to such a vile strategy as getting me out of the way!”

Oscar continued without commenting on that deduction. Was that what the protagonist wanted to think? Very well, so be it. He didn't care, it didn't affect him at all. So he continued ordering the books without letting a new string of insults from Madeleine towards her sisters interrupt.

Blanking his mind, or at least trying not to let the other's imaginary problems ruin the rest of his day, he tried to focus on what was in front of him. He thought about it again, and although he had done this before, he had never devoted so much effort to this newly assigned task. Not like to take out all the books at once and, before wiping each one of them, take care of cleaning the entire shelf and the corresponding walls of the bookshelf as well.

It was painstaking and heavy work. Perhaps because of this, and the fear of not knowing how to leave the books in the same order they were, the Northrop service did not do it often. But Oscar didn't mind doing it. Anyway, he had his own system and, used as he was to working with books, he knew perfectly well how to handle them. Therefore, he was emptying the shelves little by little, leaving the volumes that he had taken to one side and in a certain way, to know how to reposition them later.

He was doing this for quite a while, until he suddenly stopped.

Having finished cleaning the upper shelves, he was now tossing and turning with the bottom shelf. One that was so close to the floor that, to carry out its task effectively, one would have to remain seated on the carpet to reach every nook and cranny. And yes, this was Oscar doing. He took out the books, in the same way he had done on previous occasions and began to clean. He only stopped when he noticed, when wiping the cloth, that the piece of wood that until then had held the few books that were kept there was somewhat loose.

Was it possible that he had broken something? No, that possibility was ruled out as soon as it had appeared in his mind. He wasn't that clumsy, and if some screw had come loose for whatever reason, he would have listened. Which didn´t happen.

Being careful not to dislodge the wood on the side that still seemed intact, Oscar moved the board until he discovered a double bottom. There, in the gap between the floor and the shelf he had just moved, remained a book he hastened to take, wondering if someone had left it there on purpose or if it had fallen, being forgotten for who knows how long.

The first option was the most likely. Taking another look it could be seen that there was nothing broken on the shelf. Perhaps, by preference of one of the owners, that board had been deliberately left loose.

Checking the cover of the book, Oscar found no title, not even on the spine. Although the notebook was obviously of good quality, as the entire exterior was lined with leather and excellently preserved. The pages, on the other hand, did show a sign of the passage of time, since it was not necessary to open the book to make sure they had turned yellow. It was quite likely that quite a few years had passed since someone put this object in its hiding place.

“What's that?” Madeleine asked over his shoulder; she seemed like at some point she got tired of chattering on her own account and had left the sofa, approaching Oscar from behind without him noticing. “Now are you also going to read instead of attending to me?”

"I'm not reading," he pointed out, although he considered that it was not necessary to use extra excuses to continue ignoring the protagonist.

He thought that, at the very least, he could take a look over at the notebook. Perhaps in the first pages he would find a title and, not being able to reposition it on a shelf for fear of being in the wrong place, he could at least return it to its hiding place having had an idea of ​​what it was, with the idea of ​​commenting on it to Albert next time to speak to him.

Now, his impromptu investigation lasted no more than a few seconds, before Oscar closed the book again as quickly as he had opened it.

No, he hadn't found a title, but he did find a date, a place, and the first few paragraphs of what seemed to be a recount of personal anecdotes that he certainly shouldn't be reading.

"How bad is it?" Madeleine tried again, trying to draw Oscar's attention back to her.

He had been careful to open the notebook, doing so from an angle whereby the protagonist could not have even glimpsed a single word of what those pages contained. Of course, his expression of shock could not go unnoticed: It was not that he had been startled by finding something so personal, it was that he had recognized the name of the villain in one of those pages and, thinking quickly, concluded that it would be a very bad idea that Madeleine found out that Albert possessed a book with such revealing information about his existence.

Unfortunately, when she wished, Madeleine didn't seem to be that stupid.

"Is that a diary, perhaps?"

"It isn't," Oscar said firmly, hurrying to return the object to its place before it occurred to the protagonist to try snatch it from him. “What kind of reckless individual would hide a journal in a library that his entire family has access to? Even if their relatives are not the type to browse every corner, having to do a thorough cleaning every month, any employee could have found it beforehand.”

“What is it then? You're not fooling me... And I want to read it!”

"It's just an empty notebook," he added, returning the book to its position before Madeleine managed to reach it.

Forgetting about cleaning, he, too, rearranged the volumes he had removed, so that Madeleine would find it even more impossible to retrieve that book without making a mess.

"I've seen some written words, even if I couldn't read what they said!" She continued protesting. “Why did you put it back on the shelf? Was it Albert's? If that diary is his, you might as well read it. Or is it that you don't want to know more about your dear friend?”

"To be frank, if Albert had something to say to me about his private life, I would prefer that he say it to my face. Not finding out from a supposed notebook that I don't even have permission to read.” Guessing the output that Madeleine would employ next, he added. “And no, as much as you´d like it to be, this is not a diary. Get struck by lightning right now if I'm lying! If you thought you saw something handwritten on it, it was probably just the dedication or some kind of label made by the bookseller who sold the notebook and was left here forgotten.”

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Yes." The monosyllable came immediately, but Oscar was as calm as usual, as if it were true that he had nothing to hide, "but that is irrelevant now. I´ve told you what there is, if you don't believe me... Well, if you don't believe me go pray. What do you want me to say? This thing off the shelf is not going to come out again.”

"So that´s how you want to do it, eh? What you want is to wait for me to leave to read that newspaper by yourself, thus obtaining an advantageous position in respect to Albert Northrop. But I won't let that happen!”

What advantageous position could I have by reading something that I am not supposed to even know about…? Oscar wondered. But instead he spoke the truth:

"I won't read anything. I consider that the privacy of each individual is a fundamental issue and, just as I wouldn´t like my manuscripts to be read without my permission, I would not want others to receive the same treatment with their possessions” To support his words, Oscar finished of repositioning all the books on the shelf, implying that he had all the determination to leave the matter be. “Do you want to read it and check if I'm lying? Very well. Write to Albert asking for permission to delve into his business, and if he says yes, I will give you the notebook myself.”

"A letter could take weeks."

"Would you rather wait for him to come back to ask?"

Madeleine was obviously not saying it because of that, but because of the possibility that Oscar would get rid of the book in the period between writing the letter and receiving a reply. Therefore, he assured:

"I don't plan on taking the book out of here. That would be as inconsiderate as reading it without permission.”

Oscar wasn't being convincing, and if you asked him, he was likely to admit that he wasn't even trying to be. Whether Madeleine believed him or not was not important. He was just looking to buy some time to distract her from her new goal. Time that it would not be granted thanks to the inherent luck that he never had, but because he had made arrangements for someone to come and kick the protagonist exactly half an hour after she sneaked into Thornfield.

Thus, punctual as clockwork, the Northrop butler interrupted them for the second time that day, to warn them that the stipulated thirty minutes had passed.

Madeleine wanted to protest, but before she had time to mention the damn little book, Oscar commented that it would be nice to call the police, in case the protagonist did not want to go to the police station on her own. Such a comment managed to silence her on the spot. Was this fatal individual thinking of reporting her for a false robbery to the authorities? But no, that was not the idea, Oscar explained immediately.

Wasn't it that Madeleine came to ask for help for an alleged murderer? Well, the best advice he could give is that she go to the authorities.

"As if I hadn't already gone!" She had replied, still angry. “They said they would investigate immediately, but I haven't seen them move all morning! On top of that, they had the nerve to tell me that as there are no clear clues, the investigation is likely to be delayed. Useless they are!”

"I see, it's a shame I don't have the power to force them to get going," Oscar pointed out with a false tinge of disappointment in his voice. “Why not make a list of people who want to rob you of your conquests and who you crossed in each of those outrageous events? Officers may change their minds and cooperate if they see that you make their job easier.”

"I will have to, since you have not served anything other than to confirm that you are still useless."

With this realization, Madeleine did not wait for him or the butler to remind her that it was time to go; she left by her own foot. She only turned to Oscar one last time to remind him that she would be back in less than three weeks, with a letter from Albert giving the permission she needed, and Oscar had better give her the book then! She threatened him as much as she wanted before disappearing through the front door, in front of some concerned servants who, before leaving her guest alone in the library, were kind enough to ask her if she was okay.

Anyway, what could Oscar say? Yes, he was fine, for the moment. But the problems were just piling up!

What could he do with that journal? That hiding place was no longer safe. Even if he told the Thornfield servants not to let Madeleine into the library again, who assured him that this madwoman would not dare to sneak in through the window one day, like a thief, not wanting to wait to hear from Albert? She wouldn't care so much if it was true that the notebook was blank, but heck! She had clearly seen that it was filled in to the last of its pages.

It was an old agenda, yes. Considering the date the first entry was said to have been written, he reckoned it belonged to when the villain was about fifteen or sixteen years old. Maybe it was from when he was in his boarding school days. A diary finished so long ago that, it was probable, the owner of it even forgot where he had hidden it and, therefore, he should not worry about what he had written there.

He shouldn't worry if it wasn't because he knew Madeleine was on the prowl.

He only managed to read the first few lines and had no intention of prying further. His resolution was to let the matter die and, perhaps when he wrote to Albert again, ask him if he remembered said notebook. Not being a current agenda, there was enough margin that the character had changed, that the thoughts that were reflected in those pages were no longer shared by its author and... Although it is not that someone like Madeleine would care , in any case. Accustomed as she was to twisting everyone's words to play in his favor.

Oscar was going to leave the diary be, going back to his desk and finally starting with his own documents, but he couldn't. His mind, which should be focused on the plot he had struggled to create for weeks, continued to wander in other directions. His sight couldn't help but land on that bookshelf where he had discovered the unforeseen treasure and, eventually, he had to surrender and get the book out of his hiding place again.

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