The Old Vengeful Read Online Free PDF Page B

father, and I recalled his earlier letter … I’m used to handling research material and pulling it together—I did as much for Professor Emerson’s book on the Somme a few years back, when he died before he’d finished it… it occurred to me that I might be able to finish your father’s book for you, Miss Loftus.”
    Good Lord! thought Elizabeth, frowning at him with a mixture of astonishment and irritation. He had indeed been after something—but it wasn’t her money, let alone she herself—it was Father’s research he wanted!
    She opened her mouth, but he spoke again quickly before she could do so.
    “Miss Loftus—let me make myself plain, I beg you!” He had clearly read the expression on her face. “I’m absolutely not interested in either making money or a name for myself—I don’t need to do either. The book would have your father’s name, and you can have the royalties—you can have your own solicitor draw up any agreement you like. You can even veto the whole thing at any time if you don’t like it—or me … providing I can do the same, of course. Because I’d have to see the work that’s already been done, naturally … My own contribution, apart from any necessary editing, would be to put together the twentieth-century chapters only, because I’m not an expert on the earlier periods … But otherwise, you can call the tune absolutely. So don’t say ‘no’ out of hand, without thinking.”
    That was exactly what Elizabeth was doing—she was thinking very hard indeed, trying to adjust her first reaction and her instinct and her prejudices with the apparent generosity of his offer. Because there must be a catch in it somewhere.
    “I don’t quite see why you want to do this … under those conditions, Mr Mitchell,” she said tentatively, shying away from the direct rudeness of “What’s in it for you?”
    He shrugged. “Let’s say … I’m not a naval historian—I’m not ready to write a whole book of my own on naval matters. But … I admire your father’s work—I think The Dover Patrol was a fine book … and I could do this.” He paused. “Also … I’m between books myself at the moment, so I have several spare months.”
    Well, there was an opening, even at the risk of emphasising her ignorance. “Forgive me for asking… but you must understand that I don’t read books about the World Wars …” It was harder than she’d expected, and she felt the blood rising in her cheeks.
    “What books have I written?” The laughter lines crinkled on his face as he came to her rescue, making it older again, where his recent embarrassment had made him seem younger. “Or were you going to ask whether I write under my own name?”
    “Oh no—that’s the coward’s question!” She felt herself melting under such candour. “But honestly, I haven’t seen any of your books—and I’m sure that’s my fault for being unobservant—“
    “I doubt it. But I did have a modest success with my book on the Hindenburg Line a few years back. And then there was the one on the battle of the Ancre … after which I completed Professor Emerson’s definitive work on the Somme, though I can take no credit for that, of course … And finally, I have a new one coming out in the spring, about the Irish Guards in the war— Watch by the Liffey , that is … When the last survivors of the 1st Battalion were hanging on to the edge of Zillebeke Wood on the outskirts of Ypres in ‘14 they heard a German band playing ‘Die Wacht am Rhein’, and one of them said ‘Well, we’ll give the bastards “Watch by the Liffey” in reply’.”
    On the back of a book in Margaret ’ s shop —was that where she had seen him, his face? thought Elizabeth.
    “Plus the obligatory thesis, and the articles on this and that.” He fumbled in his top pocket. “Perhaps I should have given you my card to start with.”
    She read the card: Paul Mitchell … and on one side beneath, The King ’ s College, Oxford