Page 26 of A Duchess to Fight For
Hobart opened the bottom right drawer of his old nicked and scuffed desk. He swore. He grabbed six inches high of parchments and dropped them on the desktop then another six inches high went on top of the pile. He pulled the drawer out of the desk and laid it on the floor.
Frederick walked around to see the drawer on the floor. “What are you doing?”
Now Hobart was on his knees leaning into the abyss. He grabbed a few parchments and stood. He lifted two pieces of parchment into the air.
“This desk is so old; parchment falls over the back edge into the area between the drawer and the desk.”
Frederick smiled. “Have you thought to put a weight on the parchments so they don’t move?”
“No, but I will now. I’ll be over for a weight. You seem to have more than you will ever need.”
“I’ll bring one over next time I come. Listen, I need to go. We’ll have to go over shipments next time I’m here.
“You’re going to find something on him?”
Frederick practically ran out of the warehouse. He mounted his horse grateful he wouldn’t be stuck in traffic with his carriage.
He climbed the stairs of his townhouse, and Mendon opened the door before he could get to it. He went straight to his office, knowing Mendon would get a stable boy to take care of his horse.
“Mendon,” he called loudly.
“Your Grace?”
Frederick looked up to see Mendon in front of him.
“We’ve got to get these drawers out. It’s behind one of these drawers.” Mendon rounded the desk and began to work on the left-hand drawer while Frederick fiddled with the right drawer.
Mendon’s drawer fell to the floor with a thud. He got on his knees and peered in. He pulled out three bent and slightly torn parchments. None was what they needed.
Frederick’s drawer thudded to the floor. He crawled in and started scraping out everything in there. There was twine that had held stacks of parchment together, a stylus, and six parchments mangled by the drawer opening and shutting. He looked at the six parchments and whooped. He stood and smoothed one over the top of his desk.
It wasn’t torn, just jagged around two edges and folded over.
He looked up at Mendon. “Don’t you love my brother Hobart?”
Mendon grinned. “If you would move, Your Grace, I will put your desk back together.”
“Gladly. When I was at the warehouse, something fell behind Hobart’s desk drawer. It wasn’t the first time. He took the drawer out and retrieved what he needed. He said he did that every day. He popped the drawer back in, talking the whole time. I jumped out of my seat and came home.”
Mendon stood. “The desk is back together. What would you like to do with these parchments?” He motioned at the piles on the floor.
“I organized everything by category, something I should have done long ago. You can put them in the wall cabinets that way. I’m not going to keep any files in the desk drawers anymore. I’ll save those drawers for paperweights and inkwells and such.”
Mendon bowed, “Your Grace.”
