Alex hated his own helplessness. The sense that his efforts here today would be little more than a bandage on a gaping, festering wound.
Lottie said nothing, but Alex could feel her dismay, the sense that her own offerings were similarly paltry. Her smile was strained as she unpacked the cheese and bread in her basket, setting it on the table. She handed apples to the children who snatched them eagerly.
These people needed significant care, not just a bandage to stop the bleeding.
Mr. Bartlet winced as he eased himself into a chair. “Pardon me sitting down, Lady Charlotte. My leg cannot bear my weight for long.”
“I do not insist on convention, Mr. Bartlet.” She offered him a wan smile.
“You said you had word from my cousin? From Mr. Argent?” Mr. Bartlet turned to Alex.
“Aye,” Alex nodded, leaning his weight on his crutches. “We have concerns about Mr. Warden and his stewardship of the lands.”
Mr. Bartlet’s face twisted into a grimace at the mention of Mr. Warden and then darted a wary glance at Lottie.
“I don’t want to speak ill of your friends or family,” Mr. Bartlet said, tone diplomatic.
“Please do not hesitate, Mr. Bartlet,” Lottie answered the man’s unspoken question. “I would rather the truth than some banal platitude.”
“Mr. Argent is of the opinion that Mr. Warden and Lord Frank are wishing to skim profits from the estate.” Alex saw no point in dancing around the central issue. “Your cousin pointed us in your direction as someone who might be able to lay out the true state of affairs.”
Silence hung in the room for a moment. Mrs. Bartlet looked anxiously at her husband, darting a glance toward the door, as if fearing someone might overhear them.
Alex frowned.
Didn’t the lady’s reaction, in and of itself, say much about the state of things?
“I would ask that my identity as the one who told you this be kept secret,” Mr. Bartlet said, gaze intent. “Your word as a gentleman.”
“Of course,” Alex nodded. “I will protect ye.”
“Well,” Mr. Bartlett released a slow sigh. “Mr. Argent is right. I was an overseer for the previous steward before my accident last year. It’s been particularly difficult to watch both my fortunes and the estate crumble.”
“What has happened with the estate?” Lottie asked.
“As you likely know, Lord Frank cannot access the bulk of the marquisate’s wealth. All he can do is squeeze the land more and skim the excess. Therefore, rents have been raised and many laborers dismissed. Those that remain have seen their wages cut. Many necessary jobs on the estate are therefore being neglected. Worse, I hear tell that Mr. Warden has been making trips to negotiate with a prison governor in Devon to purchase the labor of the convicts. I don’t have to tell you how that will further undermine local workers.”
Alex hissed in sharply. He knew this was a common practice in other places in the British Empire, but he had not known it to happen on English soil. Hiring convicts was not illegal, but it undoubtedly showed a certain level of callousness.
“As you can imagine,” Mr. Bartlet continued, “the use of convict labor has many tenants concerned. Convicts are more akin to slave labor than anything. They will leave many on the estate out of work, even for cut wages. But most of us have signed leases on our homes. So we will be in the position of needing to pay our rents, but having no employment.”
“How terrible,” Lottie murmured. “My father would never have approved of such a scheme. Tenants were like family to him.”
“Just so, my lady.” Mr. Bartlet nodded gravely.
Alex swallowed. “So Mr. Warden is doing this with Lord Frank’s approval?”
He had to know where the problem lay. Was this a case of Mr. Warden acting without Lord Frank’s full knowledge?
“It is my understanding that Mr. Warden was hiredbecausehe was unscrupulous enough to agree to Lord Frank’s schemes.” Mr. Bartlet gave Lottie an apologetic look. “Again, I do not wish to speak ill of your family, Lady Charlotte, but Lord Frank’s reputation among tenants is low.”
Alex took in a long, slow breath.
It was simple to replace Mr. Warden. That Alex could insist upon.
But as things were, Lord Frank would be part of the estate for another twenty years. Even if someone else were appointed as regent over the marquisate—which would be highly contested given Ferndown’s power—Frank would still have complete control overFreddie’slife. He was his father, after all.
There was no easy way to award the title to Freddieandprotect the marquisate from Lord Frank’s grasping hands.
