“No,” Lakehurst agreed, “However, he would have to record something if he wrote nothing down that would be suspect in itself if someone came to look at the account books.”
“True.—Here is a record from just last month for the purchase of beeswax candles.”
“Beeswax, not tallow?” Gwinnie said from where she stood in front of the bookcase.
“Yes, beeswax.”
A muffled laugh came from Lakehurst, his head bent over one of the bottom desk drawers. “As we have surmised, they did like their comforts,” he said, standing up and pulling an account book out of the drawer as he did so. “Cassie, this looks like a recent account book, so I’ll give this to you to go through with the others.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking it from him.
“I’ve found some pretty pressed flowers,” Gwinnie said.
“I’ll wager that was thirty years ago,” Cassie said.
Gwinnie looked at the frontispiece. “Yes. 1785.”
Cassie nodded. “That would make sense. Richard’s mother liked to press flowers and then frame them. There are pictures she made hanging in my sitting room.”
“That is sweet,” Gwinnie said, returning the flowers to where she found them.
* * *
They worked together silentlyfor an hour—only an occasional snicker, or groan punctuating the silence—until Rose came to tell them dinner was ready.
“Thank you, Rose,” Gwinnie said to her maid. She stretched her arms above her head, then folded over to touch the floor. “Ah, to stretch feels good.”
“I’ve set aside documents I think we should take a closer look at,” Lakehurst said, as he rolled his shoulders.
“I, also, have found a couple of notations to share that are questionable. And we were right, Lakehurst, in our thinking they recorded paying a salary to Carlyle when they never did. The most recent record was from the first of June.”
“After dinner, let’s share notes on discoveries and perhaps continue this effort tomorrow if we feel it needful,” Lakehurst suggested. He escorted the ladies out before he shut and locked the door afterward.
“With the Gallaghers no longer here, do you still think you need to lock the door?” Cassie asked.
“I had John and Henry lock and blockade the door the Gallaghers used to leave the castle. However, if there is another secret door, what prevents them from coming in through it?”
“I only know of that one as unblocked; however, you raise a good point. I don’t believe I know all the secrets of Baydon, though I lived in the castle for four years,” she admitted.
“It is a massive, rambling place,” said Gwinnie as they entered the dining room. “How does one get up to the ramparts? I think I should like to play my violin up there if the wind is not too strong.”
“From the next floor above the bedrooms, if you follow the hall to what would be the front of the castle, there is a door leading to another set of stairs to the ramparts,” Cassie said.
“If you play from up there, it should be a dramatic piece, filled with fire and fury,” Lakehurst suggested.
Gwinnie grinned as she sat down. “Of course!… What is that delightful smell?” she said as Rose brought in a large tureen of a chicken and vegetable stew.
“Country fare, my lady,” Rose said as she ladled stew into the bowl she set before Gwinnie. “Agnes suggested it, said we could feed more with less.”
Cassie laughed. “She would know. She comes from a large family with ten children. Her father is a tenant farmer on the Earl of Galborough’s estate.—But there are also herbs in this?” she asked.
“Yes, my lady, we found the cook’s garden. Agnes says it needs a good gardener’s hand, but some of the herbs have done all right, like the rosemary and thyme. Agnes used them for the stew. We don’t know how to cook fancy meals, but betweens us, we can keep yous fed.”
“We don’t need fancy meals,” Gwinnie said. “This is perfect.”
“You and Agnes have served us well beyond the duties of ladies’ maids. We won’t forget that,” Lord Lakehurst said.
Cassie and Gwinnie agreed.
