In many ways, an ideal thing for her to say back to her husband. Noesses. A short sentence, unlikely to induce a stutter.
And it was the truth.
It had been the truth for awhile now despite her efforts at denial, butI love yousurged inside her today like an inexorable tide.
But she still couldn’t bring the words to her lips. So she made love to her husband instead of telling him she loved him.
She went about her morning tasks, speaking to Mrs. Beckford about the meals for the day and the grocer’s bill, mentioning to Mrs. Fox that the rugs in the morning room needed beating, writing a letter to a creditor in London who demanded an immediate response. And as she did these things, she came to acknowledge her part in Phineas’ anger when he saw her and William’s accidental physical contact. Why should her husband trust her when she was, in truth of fact, untrustworthy? Not in the way he had suspected, but he was still justified in seeing shadows when he looked at her.
That afternoon, Caroline went to the study as usual. She looked at the ledgers, the stacks of receipts, the dried spatters of ink on the table.
She missed William. So strange. She was well used to being alone. Had she become someone who needed people?
She picked up the receipt for the horse William had sold to Phineas. The viscount had a good memory. He would not remember eighty pounds if it had really been one hundred and eighty.
Again, she looked closely at the one in the numerals denoting the amount disbursed. The color of the ink of the one was redder than the ink of the eight and the nought.
She went to Phineas’ desk and found a magnifying glass in a drawer.
Yes, the numeral one on the receipt was in a different ink than the rest of the writing.
She began to go through the other receipts. She found nine receipts where she thought the leading numeral, always a one in the hundreds place, appeared to be a slightly different color than the rest of the writing on the receipt.
A receipt showed one hundred and eighty pounds had been spent on a horse. Phineas would pay one hundred and eighty pounds and William would receive eighty. And where had the other one hundred pounds gone?
Into Chambers’ pocket.
And the small rents. Could it be the tenants were paying adequate rents but Chambers was recording smaller payments and pocketing the difference?
She needed to see a ledger from before Chambers was steward, to see what the rents used to be. She needed to talk to the tenants, ask them the amounts they paid in rent to the steward.
She stood. She and Lavinia went down to the steward’s office. It was locked and there was no answer when she knocked.
She would wait. She wanted Chambers to have no more time alone with receipts and ledgers. She wanted none of her potential evidence destroyed. She leaned on the wall of the narrow passageway and stroked Lavinia’s ears.
An hour passed.
Mr. Albion Chambers appeared suddenly at the far end of the passage and strode toward her. She straightened out of her leaning position.
“My lady.” He bowed.
“I want the ledgers from fifteen years ago and earlier, Mr. Chambers. Before my husband was earl.”
A nervous laugh from the steward. And there was a gleam in his eye that put her in mind of a wild animal, caught in a trap.
“I would have thought you would have learned your lesson, Lady Burchester. You would have realized money is men’s business. And men resent women who meddle in their business.”
This man resented her, that was clear. But her husband didn’t. He loved her. He had said so, just last night. And her duty was to protect her husband and his property.
“I also need all the receipts.”
A pause.
“Thertainly,” Mr. Chambers said and walked past her to the office door. He slid a key into the lock and turned it.
Thertainly. He meant to disarm her with his mockery. But she had Lavinia at her side, she had her husband’s love in her heart, and she wasn’t afraid to unmask this thief who had taken such advantage of her husband’s trust.
She followed Chambers into the office.
