Professor Emerson looked very handsome, dressed in his Harvard crimson over a gray suit. His pale blue shirt and darker blue tie made his sapphire eyes seem bluer.
She’d wanted to match his gray suit, but she’d succumbed to his last-minute plea to wear something brighter.
“I need to be able to find you,” Gabriel had pleaded over breakfast. The sound of his voice was strangely vulnerable.
Julia could not refuse. Vulnerability was something he shunned like mediocrity. Yet he could be vulnerable with her, privately. She treasured and protected those moments.
So she eschewed the gray dress she’d wanted to wear and replaced it with a sleeveless kelly green dress. The dress was modest and fell to her knees, but the color was daring and the wide neck exposed her collarbones.
Gabriel had predicted that most of the audience would be clad in dark colors. He was correct. In a sea of black, navy, and dark tweed, her green dress made her highly visible, which was precisely what he’d wanted.
And she was wearing a pair of red-soled stiletto heels. Somehow her right leg had felt better that morning and so she thought she’d chance it. She hoped Gabriel would appreciate her choice.
When his eyes finally found hers, he stood very still. The principal of the university was speaking in his ear, but Gabriel’s attention was fixed on his wife. His lips curved up into a half-smile and he gave her an intense, branding look before turning his attention back to the principal.
Now Julia could draw breath. Gabriel had arrived and he had found her. She’d never been more eager to be found.
Julia wondered how Clare was adjusting to an afternoon with Rebecca at the hotel. The past two days had been the Emersons’ first excursions without the baby and Julia felt curiously bereft. In order to resist the urge to text Rebecca, she focused on her dress, noticing the way the material gave off a subtle sheen under the lights. Then she patted her hair. She’d worn it in a French twist, pinned at the back of her head.
“When Gabriel delivers the Sage Lectures, he’ll be in McEwan Hall, which is much larger.” Graham leaned closer from his seat.
She glanced around the room. “How much larger?”
“This room only seats two hundred fifty people. McEwan Hall seats a thousand.”
Julia gulped. She hadn’t really grasped the pomp surrounding the Sage Lectures, although she had been impressed by the warm and generous hospitality of the university. Graham had been very kind, as had his colleagues. It seemed to be a wonderful community.
The head of the School of Literatures, Languages, and Cultures made a few opening remarks and introduced the director of the Research Office, who spent a great deal of time highlighting the excellent research profile of the university before describing the importance of the Sage Lectures in the field of the humanities.
Julia noticed that Gabriel’s body language never changed, even when the principal was introduced and he began cataloguing Gabriel’s long list of accomplishments. Gabriel’s piercing blue eyes moved in an unhurried fashion from the principal to Katherine Picton, with whom he exchanged a warm smile, and back again.
He caught Julia’s eye and winked. Julia winked back, feeling warm all over.
She surveyed the audience, noting the presence of what looked like undergraduate and graduate students, as well as faculty members and other members of staff. That was when it struck her.
Gabriel didn’t have graduate students. Yes, Boston University had hoped he’d be able to attract them, but since Italian studies didn’t have a graduate program, students interested in studying Dante at the master’s or doctoral level had to enroll in the Department of Religion, in which Gabriel was cross-appointed. But a doctorate in religion wasn’t what a true Dante specialist needed, especially if he or she wished to teach in a department of Italian or Romance studies.
The University of Edinburgh has a doctoral program in Italian.
Indeed, she was sitting in front of several of the faculty members of that program, while Professor Todd sat next to her.
Julia’s heart skipped a beat. Gabriel had taken the job at Boston University so he could be close to her while she studied at Harvard. But professionally, the job was not the best fit. And Katherine Picton had said as much, in the conversation in which she’d suggested Julia spend a semester in Scotland.
The University of Edinburgh recognized Gabriel’s accomplishments. The Sage Lectures were drawing enormous attention, including the attention of the media. Other universities and research institutes would take notice. Perhaps Edinburgh would invite him to stay. . . .
The principal finished his introduction and Gabriel joined him at the lectern. The men shook hands.
Gabriel adjusted the microphone to accommodate his six-foot-two height and withdrew his black-rimmed eyeglasses from inside his suit jacket. A hush fell over the audience as he adjusted his notes on top of the lectern.
“Mr. Principal, members of the University Court, colleagues, ladies and gentlemen, you honor me with your attendance. I’d like to thank the University of Edinburgh for their generous invitation, which I gladly accept.
“Thanks are due also to my home institution of Boston University for its support of my research. I also want to thank my lovely wife, Julianne.” Gabriel gestured to her. “Because of her support and the support of Boston University, I will be able to relocate to Edinburgh for the 2013–2014 academic year and deliver the Sage Lectures.
“I have been invited by the principal to say a few words about the series of lectures I intend to deliver next year, here at the incomparable University of Edinburgh. Allow me to begin.”
He cleared his throat. “‘Voi non dovreste mai, se non per morte, la vostra donna, ch’è morta, obliare.’ So speaks Dante in La Vita Nuova, ‘Except by death, we must not any way forget our lady who is gone from us.’
“In this work, Dante gives us poetry from his heart, describing the constancy of his devotion to Beatrice.” Gabriel made eye contact with Julia, looking at her over the rims of his glasses.
“Dante Alighieri was born in Florence, Italy, in 1265. He is known for his poetry and political writings, as well as for his activism in Florentine politics. But he is also known for his passionate and unconsummated love for Beatrice.
“Dante met Beatrice Portinari when they were both nine years old. ‘Apparuit iam beatitudo vestra,’ he writes. ‘Now your blessedness appears.’
“Dante and Beatrice crossed paths again in 1283 and Beatrice’s greeting was so moving, Dante writes that at that moment he saw the culmination of blessedness. This moment is immortalized in Henry Holiday’s painting Dante and Beatrice.” Gabriel nodded toward the back of the room and a projection of the painting appeared on a screen behind him.
Julia held her breath. The painting was personal to her and Gabriel and for more than one reason. He’d purchased a copy of it years ago and had kept it with him ever since. And at the moment, it was hanging on the wall in their bedroom, back in Cambridge.