“Don’t be silly,” Jane admonished. “Bertie can stay with Cecily. She has more room anyway. Really, I shouldn’t even have brought it up.”
Drat.But the nursery idea was rather inspired, if Hannah did say so herself. Was there some other way she could make the house intolerable for her mother? What if she filled her bed with fleas? No, that would be too disgusting. But Hannah resolved to think about it further. There must be something less drastic she could try.
Having run out of menial tasks to assign Hannah several days ago, Jane had recently begun teaching her how to look over the club’s books and check that there were no errors in the calculations. Though it probably wasn’t meant to be a reward, Hannah actually found the task far more satisfying than counting the inventory in the pantry. It felt important. It also gave her enormous insight into the inner workings of the club. She could see how much they spent on food and drink each month, how they split their profits or reinvested them, and how much they paid their employees.
Hannah’s gaze lingered on this last item, tallying up the monthly amounts.
“The dealers only make fourteen pounds a year?” she asked, dismayed. How could anyone live on such a sum? She was sure Mama must spend nearly that much outfitting her in new gowns every season.
This did a good deal to explain the shabby state of Mr. Corbyn’s lodgings. Hannah recalled the image with a trace of guilt.
“We’re far more generous than they are at White’s, I promise you,” Jane said earnestly. “And given that we’re only open in the evenings, many of the men find other work earlier in the day. It’s a good way for most of them to supplement their incomes.”
Had Mr. Corbyn needed that money? She hoped he’d found something else by now. She still hadn’t contrived to get him the rest of his payment for sabotaging her engagement to Sir Richard. Even if she could find a way to get her hands on the funds, she was never alone long enough to find a way to bribe the coachman again, andMama was monitoring all her letters. Hannah was sure to find a chance eventually, but she wasn’t optimistic that it would be soon.
She hoped he wouldn’t think that she’d forgotten him.
“Do you suppose there’s any way you might hire Mr. Corbyn back?” It was probably hopeless, but she had to ask. “It was really my fault that he kissed me, and it’s not as though he’s likely to repeat the incident. There wouldn’t be any harm in it.”
Jane studied her carefully, her eyes kind but firm. “I’m sorry, Hannah, but we really can’t allow him back after something like this. The ladies wouldn’t trust that they’re safe around him.”
Not safe?Mr. Corbyn wasn’t a danger to anyone, unless one counted the danger he occasionally posed to Hannah’s thoughts. She returned glumly to the figures on the page, trying not to imagine his fate written among them.
Anyway, she didn’t need to be poking around these records. Jane had only asked her to check over the tallies for the previous night’s profits, not review their expenses. It was mostly Hannah’s curiosity that had set her to snooping. That, and a desire to prove that she could be entrusted with a more important role than counting jam jars.
She finished reviewing Jane’s calculations while her sister-in-law was still busy writing out the instructions she intended to give Cook for the coming week’s menu. As usual, there were no mistakes in the careful sums.So much for my chance to prove myself.Jane never made an error.
With nothing else to do to pass the time until they returned to the house, Hannah returned to snooping, this time in the tallies for each of the game tables. She wanted to see where they made the greatest profit.
After a few minutes’ study, she ventured a question. “Why do you offer baccarat and faro when they don’t make you as much money as vingt-et-un or bridge?”
“Hmm?” Jane looked up from her notes. “Oh. Because even if they don’t bring in as much, plenty of ladies like those and they’re easy to learn. Running this place is as much about keeping everyone happy so that they’ll want to come back as it is about earning the most profit.”
“But you have three tables for baccarat when it’s the least profitable. Couldn’t you reduce it to two? If people had to wait a little to get a seat, they might try another game in the meantime and earn you more income.”
Jane rose from her chair to peer over Hannah’s shoulder at the figures on the page. “I suppose you might have a point,” she admitted, sounding faintly surprised. “I’ll talk it over with Della. I didn’t realize you had an eye for business, Hannah. Thank you.”
It was all she could do not to preen at this acknowledgment. Why couldn’t Mama ever see that there were other options for her besides marriage, especially when they had a perfectly good example right here in their own family?
“I’m sure I could think of some other suggestions if you’d let me help out in the evenings,” Hannah suggested.
Jane shot her a regretful look. “You must know it’s impossible. It was all I could do to convince your mother that you’d be safe under my supervision here in the mornings. She’d never allow it after dark.”
“You mean to say that you made Mama let me come?”
“I know it might not be the most exciting outing, but I could hardly leave you trapped at home all day long. You needed something to occupy you.” Jane gave her an apologetic smile.
Maybe her sister-in-lawwason her side. Hannah had thought the work was intended to be a form of penance, but this would explain why there were always delicious treats involved.
Regardless, it was better than counting the flower petals on her wallpaper.
* * *
Jane stopped in at the wine merchant’s after they finished talking to make some changes to the club’s order, so it was nearly three in the afternoon by the time they made it back to the town house.
“Where were you?” Her mother stood waiting for them at the door. “You normally don’t stay past one. I was worried.”
“I’m sorry,” Jane said smoothly. “We lost track of time.”
