Chapter 9

April in the Cotswolds was like living in a children’s book cliché of spring. Daffodils popped up everywhere, Bunnies scampered through lush verdant footpaths. Elizabeth was skeptical that this could all be completely natural. Surely someone drove along the street and threw Daffodil seed on the banks by the road? Elizabeth was considering this as she stood with one foot up on the fence around the sheep pasture. She had been writing furiously on a Saturday morning, and had reached the point of mental breakdown. She had decided a trip out to see some of the farm animals was exactly the natural and calming study break she needed. While she stood watching the newborn sheep chase each other around the relaxed mother, she was surprised at a voice behind her. “Ugly, aren’t they?”

She turned to see Barrett standing there in his rubber boots and tweed cap, looking much the British farmer stereotype that fit into this British spring cliché. Perhaps it was one big movie set Elizabeth had stumbled into. She questioned Barrett: “Well, actually I was thinking they were just a little too cute to be true. Is this spring for real? I mean do Daffodils really just grow everywhere, or does someone from British Tourism Council run around spreading seeds at midnight?”
Barrett assured her that it was not so. “You’re just paranoid, and probably because you’re a bit jealous of this rainy island of ours.”

“That is true” Elizabeth said with a smile. “I would gladly trade a long snowy winter for a short, rainy one, and such a gloriously drawn out spring.” Barrett took the opportunity to change the conversation. “Did you just wake up?” motioning to her attire. Elizabeth looked down – she hadn’t really thought about the fact that she was still wearing her pajamas. “Oh, no, no, no.” She gave a little laugh and shrugged her shoulders “I just got up and started writing away, and didn’t even think about getting dressed.” “How’s the writing going?” Barrett said, setting down the pail he had been holding and coming to stand beside her and watch the sheep. Elizabeth was happy to be able to have the distraction of sheep to watch to take some of the awkwardness out of the conversation. Barrett hadn’t called her after the dinner they had at The Bear a few weeks ago and Elizabeth was picking up a little guilt from his body language. Staring at the sheep intently, she answered his question: “Well! I mean I’ve really been getting a lot of researching done, and today I had so much information I just wrote and wrote. My fingers couldn’t keep up with how fast my brain was putting together the thoughts. A good thing for a writer.” Elizabeth couldn’t decide if it would be best for her to mention the dinner they had eaten, or whether it would be best to leave it up to him to decide whether to broach the issue or to ignore it. Being a true female, she thought it best to just air it all out. But he beat her to it.
“Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t call you after we had that dinner a few weeks back. I’ve been waiting until I got all the planting and spring repairs done on the farm. They’ve really been taking up all my time.” Barrett turned to her with a sheepish grin.
Elizabeth didn’t know what to think – it sounded like a weak excuse, he could have taken 5 minutes to tell her he was busy. But on the other hand, Barrett seemed so earnest and sincere; Elizabeth felt she had no choice but to forgive him. It wasn’t like there was a clear definition that it had been a date, anyway. She quickly reassured Barrett that she hadn’t had any expectations. He seemed relieved. Now, contrary to what she had just proclaimed, Elizabeth felt disappointed, but she was very careful not to let it show. Instead she put a great deal of effort into casually excusing herself to go back in to the cottage to get back to work. Just as she was turning to leave, Barrett redeemed himself. “Oh, wait. I was hoping perhaps you’d need another study break later today? I could certainly use a farming break, and I’d love your company.”

She couldn’t hide her grin as she turned around. “I would really enjoy your company as well. What did you have in mind?” Barrett returned her smile, in a lesser degree, true to his British roots. “How about I surprise you?” They set a time, and Elizabeth really did go in to get back to work, a good deal happier than when she had left for her study break.

After Barrett dropped her off at her cottage, Elizabeth fixed herself a cup of tea, put on her pajamas, and dug out her journal. It was becoming a bit of a ritual, she always felt the need to decompress and process after spending time with Barrett – he was a bit of a mystery, and she was still not sure if he saw her as a friend or something more. Either way, Elizabeth was so happy to have someone whose company she enjoyed so much.

And he had been doing a good job of being her Charlbury tour guide. First he had shown her the farmer’s market, then the wonderful luxury of dinner at The Bear. This evening he had taken her to see a performance of the Charlbury Theatrical Society. Unbeknownst to Elizabeth, even such a small village as Charlbury had enough thespians to hold a society. They were a selection of highly educated townspeople who found great delight in meeting weekly to reherse some little known or little performed play or ancient drama. Then over season or so, most of the townspeople crammed into the small meeting room to see the performance. Elizabeth had been duly impressed at their rendition of Medusa, even if it had been a bit opaque and hard to follow. She faulted the play more than the dramatic society, for all the actors were extremely talented and seemed able to make even the most difficult work enjoyable. She and Barrett had to take front row seats, because they were one of the last people to arrive. This meant everyone in attendance watched them come in and watched them sit together. There was little to be done to stop the gossiping mouths now.

Elizabeth sighed as she finished telling her journal about the entire evening, including the comments and looks from the older women of the village after the performance. “I wonder who is ever going to read this?” Elizabeth thought, beginning to get a bit depressed as she came down off the lovely evening. “I mean, it’s not good enough to be published, and I’d never want any of my friends or family to read it. I don’t plan on having children, and even if I did, I’ve never read my mother’s journals that she’s always wanted me to. Maybe I’ll reread it when I’m old and stuck in one country for the rest of my life. Then I’ll be able to remember my English adventures. I would love to be able to step a few years ahead and see how much Barrett is a part of my life. It’s so hard to tell now.” Stopping herself quickly before she jumped on the very long journey of analyzing her relationship with Barrett, Elizabeth decided Medusa had been hard enough to comprehend, and the mystery of Barrett should be kept for another night.

Elizabeth felt her friendship with Barrett was progressing so well, she was surprised to hear the next request of her company come from an entirely different corner. The last time she had seen Browning was that night about a month ago when he stopped her on the street corner, and they had gone to the Turf pub with his friend, Meg. So Elizabeth was surprised to get a message from Browning to meet for coffee at their “usual place.” She scoffed a bit at the idea of a “usual place” because they hadn’t met for coffee in over a month, and they had probably only been to that shop three times – she couldn’t fault him too much, though, because she had known instantly what shop he meant.

So on a sunny Thursday afternoon, Elizabeth left the library to walk towards the “usual place.” The air was clear, but with a bit of a nip, and Elizabeth was still really enjoying the British spring. It was just the perfect temperature for her cutest clothes, and today it meant a knee-length brown flowing skirt, covered with large off white flowers, and a cream ballet-neck sweater. She had accessorized with the perfect purse and shoes, and was feeling every bit the cultured and sophisticated Oxford doctoral student. She was relishing this feeling while she could, because once summer hit, she predicted a return to sweaty t-shirts that subtracted some from the sophistication level.

She found Browning at the coffee shop, looking every bit the opposite of her. Elizabeth was surprised, because previously he had been quite well dressed, but today he was wearing baggy jeans, white running shoes, and a X-Large t-shirt that said “1998 Fun-Run Leighwood High School.” Elizabeth sat down on the cushy velvet chair next to his, and had to bite her tongue not to mention his attire.

“Heh there!” Browning was truly excited to see her, although much to Elizabeth’s disappointment, he took no notice of what she was wearing. She decided not to let it disturb her, that would be a truly petty ‘girl thing’ to do. “Hi Browning! You’re looking suave today!” She couldn’t help herself. Browning laughed and explained himself. “Yes, I did put on my finest duds for coffee with you. Actually, I meeting some of the other guys later this afternoon, we’re paining the Junior Common Room at the college, and I had to wear some clothes I could get grubby.”

“Oh, well that explains it. You’re excused.” Elizabeth left her satchel at the table, and went to order her “usual” coffee and scone. Upon return, Browning started their conversation right where they had left off a month ago, discussing the latest novel that won the Booker Prize. Elizabeth settled back into the chair, and sniffed the steam rising from her mug. Slowly, her brain switched gears, and she jumped into another stimulating academic conversation with Browning. An hour and forty five minutes later, the two of them had done very little to exhaust the depths of conversation they were ready to share. However, Browning had a date to paint some walls, and Elizabeth knew that if she didn’t leave the coffee shop soon, she would be sorely tempted to just head back to Charlbury instead of putting in a few more hours at the library. So they decided to save discussion of the rest of the literary canon until a later date.

Elizabeth waved good bye to Browning and set off back in the direction of the Radcliffe Camera, where she felt she was making some good progress in her work. She was actually off on a bit of a bunny trail – following some research paths into Mae Raymond’s contemporaries, and the role of female authors. It had all been very fascinating, yet Elizabeth retained some of the discontent that had overwhelmed her a few weeks prior. She had finally been able to discern what was the deeper reason she had been depressed. Elizabeth’s initial purpose in coming to Oxford was to finally make some connections between Mae Raymond, the author of the letters that Elizabeth had found as a young girl, and Mae Raymond, historical figure, author of many novels and works of non-fiction. Yet, she had been working away on her thesis for almost five months, and had indeed written almost a quarter of the first draft, but had not found any of the personal connections she had hoped for. Her thesis was turning into everything she hadn’t wanted it to, and this, Elizabeth realized, was why she had been getting so down about it. It was either time to come to grips with the fact that she would never really be able to find out who Mae Raymond was, or it was time to focus her attention back onto the search into history, with renewed passion.

These two choices faced Elizabeth, looming before her in black and white. She was tempted to just stick with the work she had been doing – the research was going well, and she didn’t want to waste time looking for connections that she might never find. On the other hand, she had longed for this opportunity since she was a child, and it would be a cop out to let it slip away so easily. So, as had happened to Elizabeth many times before, she was presented with a choice between two options, an easy one and a hard one. Each time she had a decision like this, she knew deep inside that the hard choice would be the better in the long run, and sometimes she had the fortitude of will to take it, sometimes she backed away from the challenge and took the easy route. This time, the choice seemed to be monumental, but as Elizabeth flashed her Bod card and once again climbed the ancient steps to the Upper Reading Room, she knew that forty years down the road she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she took the easy way out. No, she had followed those letters and her dreams this far – she’d have to take it all the way.