Call Home the Heart (15 page)

 

 

"And what are the possibilities of our recovering some of those
losses?" Muireann asked, though she was pretty sure she already knew
the answer from what she had seen of the estate and its tenantry so
far.

 

 

"I really don't think we could possibly ask these people for back
rent. If we held them to it, they would starve, I'm sure of it."

 

 

Muireann patted his shoulder, and sat back down again close by him.
"Don't be so defensive. I agree with you. Apart from you and your
sister, most of the people I've seen only have what they stand up
in, and the little potato plots they tend for themselves, which are
hardly going to be so productive that they can sell their surplus
for a profit. It's pretty obvious too that they have nothing worth
selling.

 

 

"But think of this from my point of view. I don't know how I'm meant
to make the estate a going concern if no money is coming in. Neither
will I evict them, so don't look so worried. You and I both know
that would be unconscionable." Muireann stared into the empty
fireplace thoughtfully.

 

 

Lochlainn reached over and took her hand. "I'm sure with that sharp
brain of yours and the reputation the Scottish have for being clever
with money, you'll work something out."

 

 

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, but I can't produce things
out of thin air. I can't even make sense out of these accounts!" she
admitted, her exasperation all too evident. "There are gaps
everywhere! We shall have to visit the accountant and lawyer in town
later and see if they can shed any light on the matter."

 

 

"Why don't you come outside for a breath of fresh air?" Lochlainn
suggested, worried she might be overdoing things.

 

 

"The books aren't going to do themselves, you know!" she said
sharply, and then apologized. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to snap at
you."

 

 

"I would probably do worse than snap if I were you. I feel like I've
betrayed you. Convinced you to come here to this!" He indicated the
chaotic pile of papers with a sweep of his hand.

 

 

"You didn't know. Not really. How could you? You've only been back a
short time. Augustine was in Scotland with me anyway. You couldn't
consult with him then, and he died shortly after we arrived in
Dublin. So there was no chance for you to discuss any business
matters," she said, squeezing his hand for a brief moment before she
rose.

 

 

"If you'll excuse me, I need to write another letter home now so I
can post it in town later. And I want to note down a few more ideas
before I go to Enniskillen."

 

 

"Very well then, I'll leave you. Is there anything you wish done?"

 

 

"Start cleaning out all of these downstairs rooms. Get rid of the
rubbish, and the nests. We may have to get a cat to catch all these
mice."

 

 

"Or a dog," Lochlainn said thoughtfully.

 

 

"What day you say?"

 

 

"Nothing. I just had a splendid idea, that's all. But I can't tell
you. It would spoil the surprise. When is your birthday?"

 

 

"My what?"

 

 

"Your birthday," Lochlainn repeated.

 

 

"At the end of April. Why?"

 

 

"Perfect." He grinned, and refused to say any more, hurrying out
when she tried to press him for an explanation.

 

 

 As soon as Lochlainn had left, Muireann penned a letter to her
cousin Michael, one of the estate stewards at Fintry, asking for his
help and advice, and telling him the basic facts about the appalling
state of Barnakilla. She knew he could help her with the livestock
problem without her father finding out, and would be full of good
ideas for running the estate and turning a profit.

 

 

Then she wrote to Neil again, informing him of her letter to
Michael, and asking the two of them to work as allies on her behalf.

 

 

Soon she turned her attention back to the books, and at last she
knew what had been eluding her all along. She was grim-faced as she
mounted the cart beside Lochlainn an hour later, and quite
thoughtful as she asked Lochlainn about market days in Enniskillen.

 

 

"They're on Mondays and Thursdays."

 

 

"Are there any other big towns nearby?

 

 

"Sligo is roughly forty miles away, and Donegal Town is about the
same to the northwest. There is also Cavan, which we drove through,
and Clogher, about twenty miles away due east."

 

 

"What days of the week would they have their markets?"

 

 

"So far as I recall, Tuesdays and Saturdays for Sligo, Wednesdays
and Fridays in Donegal, Mondays and Thursdays I think for Virginia.
I am sure it's Thursdays for Clogher."

 

 

"And who is the resident magistrate in Enniskillen?"

 

 

Lochlainn looked at her in surprise. "It's Colonel Lowry, our
neighbor on the northeastern side of the estate. Mr. Cole is on the
southeastern end, and Christopher Caldwell, Augustine's cousin, is
on the southwestern side. The lough of course takes up the whole
eastern edge of the estate, so no one to worry about there. We have
unrestricted use of the waterways."

 

 

"Is there anyone to the northwest of our estate?"

 

 

"Aye, Mr. Malcolm Stephens, but we haven't had anything to do with
his family since Augustine started a feud over the pastureland and
timber up there ages ago, as well as access to the lough, which our
lands prevent him from using," Lochlainn informed her as they neared
the outskirts of Enniskillen.

 

 

She lifted her chin, a picture of determination. "Well, perhaps it's
about time that feud ended?"

 

 

Lochlainn gaped. "But they've been the Caldwells' enemies for
years!"

 

 

"It doesn't matter a jot to me! I didn't start the feud, but it
might be beneficial to us all if we finished it."

 

 

"It's a huge step, Muireann," he warned.

 

 

"Well, we don't have to decide right now, Lochlainn. We have more
pressing matters here at Mr. Blessington's."

 

 

Muireann went into the accountant's office like an avenging angel.
Lochlainn accompanied her, carrying the mountain of books and papers
Muireann had brought with her from Barnakilla. She insisted he
remain in the room as the oily little accountant tried to explain
the expenses.

 

 

It wasn't long before Muireann confirmed her suspicions, that Mr.
Blessington had been skimming a substantial amount of money off the
top, and stated quietly, "Well, sir, if you can't satisfy me as to
the veracity of the accounts, I shall have to go to every single one
of these creditors and ask them to produce their copies of these
bills."

 

 

She rose from her chair. Mr. Blessington tried to waylay her by
declaring, "Perhaps there has been some small error. I tell you
what, I won't charge you for my service for this quarter, and we'll
call it quits."

 

 

"You will not be receiving wages for any quarter, Mr. Blessington.
The only thing you will receive is a court summons from my
solicitor," Muireann threatened as she stormed out.

 

 

Going on foot, Muireann and Lochlainn wove in and out of the narrow
streets of the town, going to each shop on the lists she had jotted
down. It took Lochlainn and Muireann the whole afternoon to see the
various shopkeepers and obtain copies of the Barnakilla accounts.
Even then their information wasn't complete, but at least Muireann
was at last able to determine to some extent the level of Mr.
Blessington's thievery.

 

 

In the course of the proceedings, however, the shopkeepers all
discovered that Augustine had been tricked, and revealed that even
though some of the sums owing were actually less than had supposedly
been paid out, few of them had actually been paid at all. Mr.
Blessington had therefore robbed the estate blind. Many of the
shopkeepers were facing ruin if they didn't call in the debts soon.
It was the same story everywhere, at the butcher's, the baker's, the
smith's, everywhere that Augustine had done business.

 

 

Armed with the money from the clothes and carriage she had sold two
days before, Muireann paid out at least a third of what was owing to
each shop owner as a sign of good faith, until her once-fat purse
was almost empty.

 

 

She got receipts for the money paid out, an updated account for
each, and she entered all the figures in a new ledger which she set
up and vowed she would always keep herself.

 

 

Then she went to the local magistrate, Colonel Lowry, to present the
evidence she had gleaned from her visits.

 

 

"I want the man arrested and prosecuted!" Muireann declared angrily
when she had finished her tale.

 

 

Colonel Lowry, tall, distinguished, with silver hair and deep-set
sherry-brown eyes, listened to her plea tolerantly before replying,
"My dear, it will give me great pleasure to arrest the toad. I'm
only too glad you have the proof against him in black and white. But
if you will forgive an old man presuming to offer you some advice, I
would suggest you get rid of your lawyer as well. They've been in
each other's pockets for years."

 

 

Muireann and Lochlainn both stared at him open-mouthed.

 

 

Colonel Lowry offered, "I'll give you the address of my son Anthony
in Dublin. I'm sure he will suit you better, and not take you for
every penny you're worth."

 

 

He wrote down the name and address on a slip of paper, and issued a
writ seizing all of Mr. Blessington's assets. He said to Muireann
encouragingly, "I'm fully booked up at the moment, but I can see
you're desperate. I'll make sure it gets on my calendar of cases for
March.

 

 

"If we can tally all the accounts, we shall make sure the
shopkeepers are paid, and shall get back some of the money he has
stolen from you. But it will take time. From what I can see, the
fraud goes back years. God only knows what he's done with all of the
money."

 

 

"I know it will be difficult, but I'm sure you will do the best you
can, you and your son. Thank you, sir. Thank you very much for all
your help!" Muireann replied gratefully, shaking his hand as she
made ready to leave.

 

 

"Good to meet you, Mrs. Caldwell. I'm only too happy to be of
assistance. Nice to see you again, Lochlainn. Glad to see you
looking so well. And make sure she looks in on Mr. Henry the lawyer,
won't you?"

 

 

"Of course, Colonel," Lochlainn agreed, shaking the older man
heartily by the hand. "We're both very grateful."

 

 

"The wee lassie has spark, that's for sure," the colonel said,
directing a wink at Muireann.

 

 

They took their leave of the magistrate. Then Muireann marched
determinedly after Lochlainn as he led the way to the lawyer's
office.

 

 

As Colonel Lowry had warned, Mr. Henry had abused his position of
trust most blatantly, having paid out all sorts of false legacies to
himself on Augustine's property as soon as he had heard Augustine's
father had died.

 

 

He had read about Augustine's death in the morning newspapers the
day before, and had wasted no time in drawing up false papers for
fake bequests for himself and his partner in crime, Mr. Blessington.

 

 

He tried to invent all sorts of excuses as to why he couldn't hand
over the will to Muireann. Lochlainn's large and brooding presence
soon persuaded him otherwise.

 

 

Looking at the widow in her rich brown sable velvet gown, Mr. Henry
attempted to present his false bequests for immediate payment, but
Muireann laughed in his face. "I know those papers are forgeries,
and not only because they're very poor imitations of Augustine's
signature, which was quite distinctive, as I can prove from my
marriage lines. I also know he couldn't possibly have signed them
here in front of your notary, as it states here, in December and
January, because he was with me in Scotland.

 

 

"At any rate, since he was marrying me, why would he want to leave
anything to you? He would have a new family to consider, would he
not?" Muireann argued logically.

 

 

"Well, with the New Year, and all that, perhaps he thought it was a
good time to take stock of the estate? Maybe wanted to get some of
his affairs in order. No doubt marrying you might have prompted it,"
the fat little bald man said desperately. "He sent me the orders
from Scotland already signed."

 

 

"Don't take me for a fool. I know he sent no papers. He was
otherwise engaged," Muireann hissed angrily. "At any rate, you know
as well as I do how unreliable the postal service to Ireland is at
the best of times. Even if he had signed these on the most recent
date indicated here, which, by the way, was the second day we were
traveling on board the steamer, they still wouldn't have arrived
here in time for you to have them in your possession now. So stop
wasting my time. I want all the papers relating to the estate this
instant, do you hear me!" Muireann stamped her foot.

 

 

Lochlainn loomed over the tiny man threateningly, sending him
scurrying into an inner office, where at length Mr. Henry produced a
huge dusty trunk and several other folders. Muireann looked at some
of the papers on the top of the trunk while Lochlainn went to fetch
the junior magistrate of the town, Mr. Clarke, who had an office two
doors down from Mr. Henry. All of the legal documents were entrusted
into his safekeeping pending the trial. With a last withering glance
at Mr. Henry, Lochlainn escorted Muireann to the cart.