9
Mary
The hour that had passed after she'd taken the letter to Mr. Poole had been a blur. He had taken her to her room and made her promise to whelp him in the morning with his work. She thought that she had probably said yes, but it was hard to remember. Everything was swirling in her head, and it would take more time to figure out her feelings than it would to figure out what had happened.
She was exhausted, she knew that much, but she didn't sleep. She laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to think about her situation.
Up until now, it had seemed perfectly strange, and she had been assuming that danger might lurk around every corner. That feeling couldn't hold a candle to her feeling now, the absolute knowledge that danger had lurked for her father, and that it was more than likely to come for her as well.
James thought there was something suspicious going on with the books; he'd said as much to her. Her father had brought him in, it seemed, to solve whatever the problem was that had ultimately lead to his death. It stood to reason that whatever it was, the finances would reveal it.
That meant that, as much as she didn't want to deal with all of the numbers, she would have to make sure that he could do his job. If he said he needed her help with it, then she would help as much as she could.
There was another reason—two reasons—that she wanted to keep him around, as well. He was a big man, powerful and tough, and he had experience in war. That much alone meant that he was useful to her. She was afraid for her life, afraid that at any moment some bogeyman would come to murder her.
Having a big, tough man was infinitely preferable to being alone, especially this far outside of town. Her nearest neighbor was a kilometer in any given direction, and she was well and truly alone in the house. Outside of her new steward, that was.
The second reason…she blushed and squelched the thought as quickly as it had arisen. She didn't have time for silly romantic notions, not now.
She rolled over and tried to sleep once again. Taking long, slow breaths, she slipped eventually into a fitful sleep. When she woke again, it was with the sun.
For a bachelor and a lawyer, Mary thought, James was not an incapable cook. That was the first surprise he'd given her that morning. She had scarcely awoken and dressed when a knock came at her door, and James met her with a platter full of food. They ate quietly.
Mary noticed, now that they were sitting together, that he didn't look at her. It was odd, and a bit disappointing. He actually seemed to make a note of never glancing in her direction, and when he did it was only for a second before he turned back toward facing the wall or looking at his food.
When she had finished, he took her plate from her, stacked it on the carrying tray, and carried the whole thing away, leaving her alone. Mary didn't know what to make of his behavior. Perhaps he thought she was particularly unattractive. More likely, he didn't know how to act around a Baron's daughter. It wasn't the first time that she'd experienced people being unsure how to act around her.
Finally he came back and asked her to follow him to the study. As they walked he spoke. His voice was soft and he seemed to be trying to make apologetic motions, but they didn't fit him well. He was too self-sure, too intelligent, and too…
Mary couldn't put her finger on it. He seemed like someone who shouldn't apologize, because…at last it clicked. Because he was too much of a man. That was where the problem lie. Because under all those clothes was something that wasn't entirely civilized, an animal's instinct that he couldn't quite hide.
"I've been an awful guest, I'm afraid, going around you so often, and I hope you can forgive me." He waited a moment, and when Mary didn't respond he went on. "I had the bank provide me with your family's financial statements for the past several months, and I will get to the specifics momentarily, but…suffice to say that the Geis family has seen better days, if you don't mind my saying, Miss."
"Call me Mary," the young lady said softly. It was a step too far, she knew, but that didn't change how she felt, and she wanted to hear him say it.
"Very well…Mary." He paused to feel the name on his lips. It felt wrong, but he said it again. "Mary. I decided that the solution to your family's issues would be two-fold. First, I would need to slow the flow of money out of your accounts. Then, I could address the central issues that were causing the problems."
"Obviously."
"Well, as it happens, there isn't much that your family is spending money on. I can tell you that whoever was keeping your books, they were nearly healthy by themselves. Which makes it seem a bit strange that there would be an issue at all. You can see, I hope, why I sent the servants home until I could get things in hand and the new head of the household arrived to relieve me."
Mary gave a sound to indicate that she understood, and waited for him to continue.
"I'll try to spare you the figures themselves, but I can confidently say that the way that Lord Geis's accounts were emptying, you would have been unable to feed yourselves by Christmas."
He waited for her to respond, but she made a pinched face and kept quiet. She wasn't some waif who would faint on hearing bad news, not after all the bad news she'd gotten over the past couple of weeks. She knew how to deal with those sort of issues now.
They were nearly there, now, and James walked the rest of the way in silence. How could Mary help with what he'd said so far? It sounded like a case of the money being spent or lost off the books, then. If the ledger showed the household being healthy, and the accounts were decidedly unhealthy, then the ledger must have been wrong.
He turned the knob and pushed the door to the study open, gesturing for her to go inside ahead of him.
"As you can see, there were notes beside the ledger. They are…obscure. I tried to show them to you yesterday, but you were…unavailable for comment."
Mary blushed lightly. Now that they were on the same side, it seemed as if her actions earlier were childish and embarrassing. She stepped up to the desk, and sat back into the chair when she felt him push it in for her.
"Mr. Poole, you didn't know my father, did you?"
"No, I did not."
"Well, he had a number of peculiar habits, sir. They often confounded the other people in the house, but that didn't stop him from keeping them." She picked up the papers and looked at them. Yes, she could make some sense of them. "He rose far earlier than most of the staff, and then napped throughout the afternoon."
She waited a moment, picked up a piece of newspaper from another pile and read it.
"He liked to smoke cigars, which was a foul-smelling habit all around—regardless of what polite society's view on it." She picked up a third and paused for a moment. 'P 5'. She knew who P was, and she blushed. It took her a moment to regain her composure. "And most infuriating of all, he very rarely wrote in long-hand."
She set the paper down and turned back toward James, who was standing in the doorway watching her.
"He had a strange, self-created shorthand that made very nearly no sense to anyone but himself, and was nearly indecipherable to someone who hadn't seen it before. I can see why you might have struggled with it."
"The numbers appear to be expenditures and income. That puts us within a hundred pounds each month of the expected numbers, which is much closer than the ledger shows."
"And you wanted to know what the rest of it meant, I presume?"
"Just so, Miss…Mary."
"I'm pleased to say that I can probably help you with that." She turned back toward the desk and plucked a few exemplary notes from each of the piles. "'D'—well, that is probably Davis, after all. He's worked for my father for as long as I've been alive, at least, and I'm sure that he'd be willing to give him extra spending money if Davis needed it. 'O' is my uncle Ollie. He's a Colonel in His Majesty's army. I'm not entirely sure what he would need the money for. As for 'B' and 'P'… I couldn't say."
She tried to hide the lie on her face as best she could. He frowned.
"I was afraid of that," he said, stepping forward. He took the stack of 'O' papers and fanned them out. "Oliver Geis takes the majority of the money from these stacks."