Page 12 of With Good Grace
‘Is he making himself useful?’
‘Actually, yes. I didn’t think there was enough work for Green and Finch but Green is no longer as young as he once was, although he will never admit it, and I think he is grateful for an extra pair of strong hands.’
‘Then keep him.’
‘Thank you, but you must permit me to pay his wages.’
Jake tutted. ‘And you must learn to accept a gift gracefully.’
‘You cannot give a servant to me. Finch is a person in his own right.’
‘I shall gift you his services then, for as long as you need them.’ Jake sat down and looked dubiously at the first box. ‘Now, shall we get on?’
‘We need tea to fortify us,’ Olivia replied, ringing the bell.
‘Parker is spending the morning quizzing Barber about what might have been taken during the robbery,’ Jake told her while they waited for the tea to arrive.
‘Drake won’t like it if he thinks Parker is involving himself in his investigation.’
‘Drake can go to the devil.’
‘It still would not surprise me if the odious man comes here trying to link me to the burglary at Mr Barber’s office. You made him look inefficient and stupid—’
‘You give me too much credit. Heisinefficient and stupid. He needed no help from me to make that apparent.’
Olivia smiled and conceded the point with a nod. ‘And overbearing, and arrogant. Even so, I was his most famous arrest. He was publicly humiliated when I was proven innocent and you showed that he had not even looked for alternative suspects.’
‘He brought it all on himself, Olivia. Don’t worry about Drake. If he does come here, don’t receive him.’
‘Certainly I shall receive him.’ Jake was pleased to see that the light of battle had returned to her eyes. ‘I have nothing to fear from Drake and shall enjoy giving him a piece of my mind.’
Tea was delivered, bringing the discussion of Drake’s myriad shortcomings to an end. Olivia poured for them both and handed a cup to Jake.
‘Thank you,’ he said, taking a sip and putting his cup aside. ‘Now, where shall we start?’ he asked, standing to remove his coat and roll up his sleeves.
‘Marcus was methodical. These boxes are dated,’ she said. ‘They go back to the days before our marriage. I had a look in the oldest. It contains diaries and a few personal letters. Nothing of consequence.’
‘Was Marcus a disciplined diarist?’
‘He made notations of engagements and anything he didn’t wish to forget, but he did not commit his innermost thoughts and aspirations to paper, unfortunately. Or perhaps fortunately.’
‘Then we would be best advised to start reading from the time he set up his theatrical agency.’
‘I agree.’
Jake moved the other boxes onto the floor and opened the relevant one. He disgorged its contents onto the table and put the box aside.
‘If you find this upsetting, I will happily attend to the matter alone.’
‘No, it needs to be done. I have been putting it off but we can now kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Anything inconsequential we can throw away. Anything else that I think Tom might like to look at when he’s older we should preserve. Whatever I thought of Marcus, heisTom’s father.’
‘Of course.’
‘His writing is near illegible,’ Jake complained when they had worked for several minutes in near silence.
‘Ah yes, I ought to have warned you about that. I am probably better at deciphering it than you are. If you find anything that needs translating, point it out to me.’
‘He appears to write in code. It is all initials, dates and times.’
