Page 54 of Marrying a Reluctant Lady
Chapter 19
The sunshine poured through the windows and onto the silk hearthrug. Owen settled on the comfortable chintz chair and let out a long and appreciative sigh. The creditors had mostly been appeased, thanks to the repayments conducted on his behalf. Now, all he needed to do was find out why it was that Ivystone still seemed to take more money than it brought in. With ten tenant farmers selling wool and other produce, the estate should have thrived. And yet, every month, the accounts came up short.
He leaned back, a frown etched on his brow. He couldn’t understand it.
“Owen?” He looked up as he heard Ophelia at the door.
“Yes?” he asked gently.
“I wanted to show you something. I’ve been looking at the books, and something troubles me. I haven’t managed to deduce what it is yet, but there is something strange happening here.”
“Strange?” Owen frowned. His heart started to thud in his chest.
“Yes,” she replied softly. “I was checking the accounts since last year, adding up the totals, and the money starts to disappear more after your father passed away. A lot more. Were you paying back many debts then?”
“I was,” Owen agreed, then frowned. “But Papa had been managing them beforehand. It wasn’t as though all the creditors came running after Papa passed away. They have been troubling this family for a long time.” He felt his brow crease in a frown.
“I see,” Ophelia said, nodding slowly. “Well, I added up the incomes for the months following your father’s passing, and they seem suddenly very different to what the estate was making before. Is there any reason why that might be so?”
“No,” Owen replied slowly. “The farms had a wet winter last year, and that would, of course, have impacted their totals. But how large an anomaly is it?” His heart thudded swiftly.
“It’s fairly large,” Ophelia said slowly. “And the fact is, it wasn’t clear until I added to totals myself. The reported amounts don’t show it as obviously.”
“What do you mean?” Owen asked with a frown.
“I mean...well, I don’t know,” Ophelia replied slowly. Her brow creased in a frown too. “I don’t want to suggest that anything untoward has happened.” Her voice was slow and cautious.
Owen felt his face flush. “You mean,” he paused. “That someone has not recorded honestly.”
“I don’t want to say it that way,” Ophelia said at once. It sounded like a plea, her eyes wide with something that looked like fear and Owen frowned.
“It’s all well, Ophelia,” he said gently. “It’s not your fault. If you’ve spotted something odd, you did the right thing by informing me. I asked you to add them up. And you did. And I am very grateful,” he added slowly.
His frown deepened as she shook her head. “I might have made a mistake. I don’t want to make accusations.”
“Shh,” Owen said gently. “Hush, now.” He reached out and held her hand, his heart leaping at the contact. “It’s not your fault. You did the right thing by telling me. I think the only thing I can do is to speak to the solicitor Leonard recommended. Mr. Albury. He can check the totals as you did, and then we will decide what action to pursue.” He looked up as he heard someone at the door. Barrow was there once again. The man’s gaze was empty and expressionless, and Owen shivered.
“Barrow?” he said softly. “What are you doing there?”
“Bringing the tea, my lord,” the man replied mildly. “Just bringing the tea. I took the liberty of offering some tea to you.”His voice was hard, and Owen felt something thud in his chest. What had happened? He reached for the books that Ophelia had brought to show him, resting his hands on them.
“Thank you, Ophelia,” he said warmly. “I appreciate your help. Do you have those totals somewhere? I’d be pleased to see them later. I can take them to town when I go to summon the solicitor.”
He saw Barrow tense and he frowned. Was it just his imagination? He didn’t want to make accusations either, just like Ophelia did not. Barrow had been a trusted person in the household for twenty years. It wasn’t a small thing that they were saying, and he knew that.
“I’ll bring them to you later, Owen,” Ophelia said softly. “Will you be able to meet with me in the west wing parlor tonight?”
“Of course. Of course, I will,” Owen replied instantly. His heart soared. He enjoyed their meetings in the evening more than anything. He gazed down at the books, feeling a little cross that they would have to spend some of their time on such uninteresting matters.
He glanced up, but Barrow had unloaded the tea-things and was pushing the trolley out again. Maybe it was his imagination. There was no reason to assume that Barrow had been stealing, but the evidence did seem to point in that direction. The solicitor would have to be summoned to check the books.
“Don’t forget to bring those totals with you,” he told Ophelia, as he poured himself some tea and sipped it.
“I will certainly do so.”
They sat in companionable silence, drinking tea and eating small sandwiches and tartlets, and then Owen heard Mr. Crane in the hallway. He looked up as the fellow came in.
“Lord Alford is here, my lord. Shall I show him in?”
