“You have my promise,” she replied. “I shall not meddle.”
Relief softened his expression. “I will trust your word. But if I find you wandering the eastern track, I shall take you straight to my parents’ house. They will lock you in the library with the Greek lexicons, and that punishment exceeds any gaol.” He grinned to soften the tease.
Annoyance flickered on her face. “I gave my word. My word is equal to any man’s. You presume too much.”
“Forgive me.” He made a half-bow. “I grow officious. The fault lies in too much time with Darcy.”
Her laugh returned. “Cousin, you are incorrigible.”
They drove back through the lanes where hawthorn bloomed, the house lifting its stern front above the smooth turf. Servants were chopping the turf, and a maid glanced toward the phaeton with interest that would surely become a story before supper. The carriage turned beneath the portico, and Richard handed Anne down.
“One more thing, cousin. Speak of this to no one,” he said quietly. “Trust only me and Darcy, until I say otherwise.”
“Very well.”
She walked toward the door, the light falling across her face, and he drove the equipage to the stables. And beyond the eastern fields, a storm gathered.
Chapter 36: The Steward
While Richard was out driving with Anne, Darcy went in search of the steward. He found Mr. Cooper near the passage to the offices and spoke at once.
“Cooper, I wish to see the ledgers. Tell me, when were the two chimneys in question last inspected? I recollect that we had them all examined in April 1808, after the parging in the drawing room chimney was found to be eroding.”
The steward nodded. “Yes, sir. Every chimney was inspected that spring by the mason out of Westerham. I do not understand why two of them should be failing now.”
“Bring me the ledgers for that year. I must write to my solicitor on another matter, but shall return shortly. After that, I intend to walk through the house with you and inspect them all.”
“Shall I bring the books to the library, sir, or will you meet me in the steward’s office?”
“I shall come to your office.”
When Cooper had gone, Darcy crossed to Lady Catherine’s study and knocked. There was no answer. He turned the latch, and the door opened. He called out again, and there was still no answer, so he stepped inside, closed the door, and turned the key.
The room was small and disordered. A desk stood by the window, but the drawers contained nothing save correspondence and household bills. A wall cabinet held writing supplies and packets of wafers. Old newspapers lay stacked in careless heaps, and along one side of the room stood a narrow bookcase. Darcy pulled several volumes out and shook them atrandom, checking to see whether any had been hollowed out. He found nothing unusual. Every book was precisely what it appeared to be. He realized that if there was a second set of accounts, they were not hidden in his aunt Catherine’s study. He restored the room to its former state, unlocked the door, and stepped back into the hall.
Darcy then turned his attention to Cooper and immediately went to the steward’s office. He found the man standing on a short ladder with a large leather volume in his hands. Darcy drew near so that the steward could pass it down to him. He carried the book to a side table and began to examine the pages.
The entries for April 1808 included charges for repairing the drawing-room chimney and for a full inspection of all eighteen flues. Another volume held the actual bill Lady Catherine had received from the mason.
None of the others had required attention. Darcy next asked for the volumes for the years of 1809 and 1810, and for more than two hours, he paged carefully through both. Nothing appeared irregular.
He then joined the steward in walking the house. Room by room, chimney by chimney, they inspected the flues. Four were clearly in need of repair. The parging had been crumbling for years. Darcy wondered why the mason had failed to point it out, unless neglect was his way of ensuring repeat employment.
When they had finished, Darcy thanked the steward and studied him closely. Cooper’s expression remained open and unconcerned. Nothing in his manner suggested deceit.
“Let me see the surveyor’s maps,” Darcy said at last.
They went to the muniment room, which Cooper unlocked. On a long shelf lay the estate plans. Cooper drew one out and unrolled it across the table. Darcy bent over the sheet, tracing the lines of fields, woods, and boundaries. When he reached the eastern edge, he paused.
“I was mistaken,” he mumbled quietly to himself. “Cooper, there is a newly built barn at the eastern boundary, but it appears that it does not lie upon Rosings. It falls within Blackwood Park.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Has Blackwood changed hands? Is Lord Ashbrook still living?”
“No, sir. Lord Ashbrook died last year. His nephew, Mr. Hugh Davenport, inherited. He sold out of the military three months ago and took possession then. He had been serving in the Peninsula and could not come sooner. He does not spend much time in Kent. He prefers the city.”
“Did he build the new barn along the border?”
