Page 10 of Speculations in Sin

I paused in my writing. “I thought you said you would invest your money in this bank. I doubt you’ll convince them you want to ship woolens to China.”

“Giving merchants loans and insuring their ships is only part of what they do,” Cynthia said easily. “The other thingthey do is take money from those who have it to help fund these ventures. I basically would be buying a share of this ship spreading woolly cloth all over the world, and then I am paid a percentage of any profit. After the bank takes its large fee, that is.”

I scribbled all this down, hoping it would make more sense when I thought it through.

“They must have made wise choices about which merchants to help,” I said when I raised my head again. “Since this bank has lasted for centuries and won the respect of your uncle.”

Cynthia chuckled. “It appears so. They assess the risk, of course, says Uncle, and choose whether it is worth their while to fund or not. Some ventures are riskier, but those can be more profitable. Uncle advised me to tell them I wanted only moderate risk even if I’d earn only a modest return. After all, how much money can a lady need?”

She finished with humor, but I saw a glint of frustration in her eyes. If Cynthia had had a great deal of money, she could be more independent, like Miss Townsend. Miss Townsend’s wealth, inherited in trusts from female relatives, let her live on her own terms. Cynthia greatly envied her.

“What did your uncle tell you to invest in?” I asked.

Cynthia waved an airy hand. “He told me to leave it up to the bankers and not fret my head about it. But I will consult Thanos. He can calculate profit margin, risk, loss, and all those other things in his head. Then I will march to Daalman’s Bank and tell them exactly what to do with my little funds. Uncle agreed to write to them and fix an appointment for me.”

My eyes widened. “My dear Cynthia, you do not have to actually go to the bank and give them your money.”

“Why not? I do have some funds from my father’s mum who wisely did not trust my father with them. Not much, but I amintrigued. I will ask Thanos for his opinion on the best venture and tell the banker I meet with to put it all on that. Like betting on the fastest horse in the Derby, isn’t it? While there, I can quiz the banker and find out whatever I can about your friend’s dilemma.”

“Gracious, I cannot let you do that.” I snapped my notebook closed. “You should not endanger your own money in a place that is prone to embezzlement. Did your uncle know anything about that?”

“Not at all.” Cynthia’s mirth fled with her frown. “He was surprised I’d heard such a rumor and told me I must be mistaken. Which means that whatever troubles Daalman’s Bank is having, they are keeping them very quiet.”

I rolled my pencil uneasily between my fingers. “I imagine they know it has to come out soon, and have already decided that Sam will be their scapegoat. He has no high standing in society or family to protect him. They are whispering rumors all over the bank, so that when the scandal comes to light, and Sam is either dismissed or arrested, no one will question his guilt.”

“And once they rid themselves of the supposed culprit, the bank reassures their clients, and everything goes back to normal. Or at least they pretend it does.” Cynthia banged one fist on the arm of the chair. “It’s dastardly.”

My anxiousness mounted. “The bank goes on without a stain, but Samuel’s life is ruined, as are those of his wife and children. They’ll put him in prison.” I’d already imagined him breaking rocks in Dartmoor, surrounded by hardened men. “I cannot let that happen.”

“We will not.” Cynthia’s voice rang with determination. “I will interrogate my uncle further. He said that the family whoowns the bank is very interesting, but Mrs. Redfern entered at that moment, and my uncle ceased speaking and rushed off to the City. He is quite delighted with me for taking an interest in finance. I have no doubt he’ll write for the appointment as I asked.”

“You should not go,” I said quickly. “Questioning your uncle is enough.”

“Nonsense. My money is sitting in an account doing nothing at all. The only assistance the account gives me is that my father has no access to it.” She barked a laugh. “Uncle has always thought I should do more with it, but he feared it wasn’t his place to advise me.” Cynthia leaned to me and lowered her voice. “He means he doesn’t want my mother to get wind of the fact that he is of more help to me than my own father. Mother is a bit protective of my pa, bless his boots.”

Cynthia’s father, the Earl of Clifford, had once been a confidence trickster of some skill. Lady Clifford, Mr. Bywater’s sister, would not hear a bad word said of him, however. Cynthia’s mother and father were still dreamily in love with each other and quite defensive against outsiders, which sometimes included Cynthia.

They’d had their share of tragedy, I reminded myself, losing both a son and another daughter. I was always torn between pity and anger at them for not treasuring the daughter they had instead of wishing they could exchange her for the others.

I suspected I would not talk Cynthia out of going through with her appointment at the bank, so I simply nodded.

“Now, we must return to the topic of Davis,” Cynthia said abruptly. “I don’t know anything about his family, or anyone who he might have gone to visit. My sister hired him years ago, and he’s rarely left the house since. Perhaps he has nofamily or close friends, and so sees no reason to go out. Or—” She warmed to the topic. “Maybe he had a wife and lost her in tragic circumstances. Uses his work to forget.”

The Mr. Davis I knew would never be that melodramatic. Also, the mention of husbands and wives, living or deceased, arises in casual conversation when one works with someone for a long while. I’d been asked quite often if there was a Mr. Holloway. I’d evaded the answer by explaining that cooks are called “Mrs.” out of respect and that Mr. Holloway was my long-departed father.

Mr. Davis had said not one word about a wife, current or past, nor any brothers, sisters, uncles, cousins, or close friends. I recalled how the housekeeper before Mrs. Redfern had hinted that he had taken male lovers in the past, and Mr. Davis had laughed at her.That old chestnut, he’d scoffed.

I’d taken his words to mean he’d been accused of such at one time. Whether true or not, he’d be in a precarious position if the rumors resurfaced. The police, I believed, could not arrest a person for such things without witnesses and proof, but if Mrs. Bywater got wind of it, she might turn out Mr. Davis without a reference.

Much better for me to find out where he was and what had happened before we brought the police into it.

“Perhaps if I could enter his bedchamber, I might find some clue as to where he’s gone,” I mused.

“An excellent idea. Shall I lead you up?”

I started. “I did not mean this instant. And I ought to do such a thing alone.” The staff had little to themselves as it was. Mr. Davis would certainly not be happy if he knew Lady Cynthia had gone through his things.

“Ah yes.” Cynthia tapped the arms of the chair, one foot kicking out as she uncrossed her legs. “I think I see what youmean. But I had better go up with you anyway, in case Auntie or Mrs. Redfern tries to intercept you. I can draw their fire.”

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