Page 91 of How to Ruin a Rake

“Then come with me.” Max gestured at the large, timber-framed barn behind them. “I’ve been told that some of the house furniture is stored in here.”

The vast double doors weren’t locked, but it took all three of them to lift the large plank of wood that kept the doors from swinging outward off its pegs. Max peered into the gloom and caught his breath.

“Devil take it,” he said. “The damned place is stacked to the ceiling.”

“Good lord,” Allegra spoke from behind him. “This is far worse than I imagined. How on earth are we going to move all these things, and where do they all go?”

“With a lot of help,” Max said. “But, as I’m sure you’ll agree, my dear, our first priority is to walk through the house and make a list of everything that needs to be done before a stick of furniture can be brought back in.”

“There might be an inventory in the records room that tells us exactly where everything goes,” Allegra said. “At least I hope there is.”

Max turned to Bennet and Scott. “We might as well close this place back up. I doubt we’ll be taking anything out of there for quite a while.”

He walked back to the house with Allegra, who was strangely quiet, and took her straight into the study where Cobbins had so recently reigned. The dog was still beside the fire. He looked up at Max, sighed, and lowered his head to the floor.

“Is this Mr. Cobbins’s dog?” Allegra asked. “Did he leave him behind!” She went down on her knees and wrapped her arms around the dog. “Don’t worry, little one, we’ll take care of you.”

“He’s hardly little, and he’s running to fat,” Max observed.

“Then he can come out with me and the dogs when we take a walk around the estate. They should be arriving any day now. I’m sure he can introduce Jester and Pippin to all sorts of exciting smells.” She rose to her feet and walked over to the desk. “It doesn’t look as if Mr. Cobbins took anything with him at all.”

“I’ll wager he took the petty cash,” Max said. “And all the money my father’s been paying him to run this place.” He sat down at the desk. “At least it looks like he left the accounts books.”

“That’s an excellent place to start.” Allegra sat on the edge of the desk, her expression abstracted. “Do you have any idea where the local magistrate lives?”

“Here,” Max said. “I’m probably it.”

“The next nearest one, then.” Allegra paused. “You’ll need to write to them about apprehending Mr. and Mrs. Cobbins.”

“I’m aware of that.” Max closed the accounts book and tried to find a new pen and a piece of clean paper in the chaos. “As there’s no one to take a message to anyone at the moment, shall we start a list of things to do?”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Allegra said in an encouraging voice. “Where would you like to start?”

Max looked at her. “You’re being rather conciliatory. What’s wrong?”

“I … ​perhaps judged you too harshly last night thinking you’d abdicate all responsibility for this place.”

“Yes, you did.” Max held her gaze. “It is not pleasant when everyone assumes the worst about you.”

A slight crease appeared between her brows. “I just apologized.”

“Not quite.”

She set her jaw. “Then I do so again, unreservedly.”

“Thank you.” He finally found a usable pen and a fresh block of writing paper. It was always very pleasant when she admitted defeat. “Now where shall we start?”

CHAPTER 18

To Allegra’s surprise, Max threw himself into the work of getting Blanchard Hall set to rights. As soon as he acquired a riding horse, he set off with the estate’s former land agent to visit all the tenant farms and villagers. He never complained, but she knew from the staff that his reception was often unpleasant, if not downright hostile, and that he would have to work hard to gain back all the trust lost by Mr. Cobbins’s years of mismanagement.

He returned at the end of each day with little to say about his activities, inquired about her progress, and ate prodigious amounts of food.

After a month of trying, Allegra had assembled a sizable staff and put them to work cleaning the house from top to bottom. She and Max had discovered an inventory of the household amongst the papers Mr. Cobbins had left, and she spent considerable time studying the rooms’ layouts and what each was supposed to contain.

“Are you ready to tackle the furniture yet?” Max asked one afternoon as he ate his way through half a chicken at the kitchen table. “I’m fairly sure I saw the dining room table in the tithe barn along with about a dozen chairs. I’ll wager Mrs. Smith and the rest of the staff would be delighted to see us back in the dining room and not cluttering up her kitchen.”

“Not at all, sir,” Mrs. Smith, who had a definite soft spot for her employer, spoke up. “It’s been a pleasure having you both.”