The Solitary Envoy (18 page)
Ledgers were books of great interest to Erica Langston. She read them the way some of her mother’s friends read novels. Normally she could look at numbers and see the hidden story, the mystery that knit together a person, a family, a company. But the embassy’s finances were an utter muddle. She spent hours after the family had gone to bed, trying to work out why nothing she saw was making any sense. The papers were all there before her, or so it seemed. It did not look as though a single thing in the office had ever been filed away. She had even found the original documents for their acquisition of this manor, the costs of registering it with the Crown as an embassy, the legal fees, the bank’s documents, the builders’ papers, everything. Yet none of it made any sense. What she found upon the papers did not correspond with what she saw in the ledgers.
Finally sometime after midnight Erica gave up and went to bed. Two sleepless hours after she had lain down, she finally came up with the answer. It was, she realized, the only solution that made any sense. She rose from her bed and dressed, made a fire and heated the kettle for tea. She knew now what she had to do. She was going to set aside all the account records made up to that point and start afresh.
She began by lighting every candle she could find. Then she began to make piles according to dates, going all the way back to the minister’s arrival. Stacks began to march down the hall. She used the kitchen table for all the initial documentation, then lined the hall with the six kitchen chairs and dated them by months. The two horsehair settees in the front parlor were stations for the latest documents.
Finally, as the rising sun began painting the eastern horizon with lovely strokes of rose and violet, she understood. The answer was so shocking she could not even apologize when Mr. Aldridge appeared. He stopped in the process of buttoning his vest and stared open-mouthed at Erica’s work. “What on earth?”
“I need a new ledger.”
He forced his gaze away from the chairs and their burdens that stood in military precision down either wall. He glanced at the four piles rising like pillars from each corner of the kitchen table. He glanced into the parlor. Then he looked at Erica. “I beg your pardon?”
“Might I have a ledger?” Sand had imbedded itself behind her eyelids, and her throat was raw from dust and lack of sleep. The numbers were marching into a precise order inside her head, so many she thought her poor brain might burst from their weight. And the realization that she had been correct was almost too much to bear. “An accounts book. A fresh one.”
“My dear Miss Langston.” Samuel Aldridge was clearly at a loss for words. “No one expected you to build Rome overnight.”
“This is important, sir.”
“I am quite aware … Have you been to sleep at all?”
“No, but … I cannot stop now.”
“Right. A ledger, did you say? Very well, come with me.” He slipped into his long black coat and opened the door leading to the principal rooms. As they descended the long circular stairs, he confided, “This present arrangement is not particularly suitable for anyone. I had never expected to live above my work. My wife decided on this because there are such enormous difficulties in finding decent housing. We are having a house built not far from here, one of the new structures rising alongside Grosvenor Square. But it will not be completed for another eight months, possibly longer.”
Erica realized he was trying to put her at ease, but she found it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the numbers in her head.
Samuel pulled down a broad volume bound in gray hide, checked to see that it was empty of writing, and handed it over. “Will this do?”
“Perfectly. Thank you. Now if you will please excuse me …” Erica hurried away. She
had
to get those numbers down.
“Half past the hour of two o’clock, Miss Langston,” Samuel called after her. “I shall await with great anticipation the telling of your tale.”
And tale it was. As soon as the numbers were set down in proper order, the story was there for her to read and understand. Just as she had expected. Just as she had feared.
Erica worked through the morning and straight on past the noon hour. She was aware of the family moving quietly about her, but she could manage no more than a simple word of acknowledgment. She knew she would be unable to clarify the entire picture, but that was not necessary. What she needed was proof.
Finally she set down her quill. In the distance she heard the clock chime the hour. Her brain was so weary it was difficult to even count the bells. Two o’clock. The hour meant something. But what was upon the page left little room for thought of anything else.
A hand tugged upon her sleeve. Again. Erica glanced over to see Abbie watching her. “Yes?”
“Mama sent me.”
“She did?”
The shining curls bounced as the child nodded confirmation. “She says you have to come now.”
“Come? Come where?”
“She’s fixing you a bath.”
“Bath?” The word seemed to have no meaning. Then the world shot back into focus. The clock had just struck two. Erica bounded from her chair. “The meeting!”
“Mama says you mustn’t worry. There’s still plenty of time.”
“But I have to get ready! These books aren’t complete….”
“Papa won’t know,” the little girl said confidently. “Papa says he’d rather dance a jig with King George himself than add a row of figures.”
Erica looked down at the little girl. “Your father said that?”
“Yes, he did. Do you like jam with your bread and butter?”
Erica realized she was positively famished. “Oh, yes.”
“I thought you would. Mama says a lovely young lady like you must guard her figure. But
I
knew you’d want something special after all this work.”
Twenty-seven minutes later Erica was bathed, dressed in her best frock, armed with her books, and filled with three slices of home-baked bread liberally slathered with freshchurned butter and strawberry jam. Lavinia Aldridge held the baby, and Abbie stood beside her as Erica came down the stairs. “How do I look?”
“I sincerely doubt that my husband will even notice,” Lavinia replied.
“You look beautiful,” Abbie declared. “Papa is going to be so proud.”
“Proud? Of me? Whyever so?”
“Because—”
“Shah, child, that’s enough.”
Abbie looked up at her mother. “But why shouldn’t she hear that Papa has called her an answer to prayer?”
Lavinia smiled down at her daughter. “I should think the young lady already has enough on her plate, wouldn’t you?”
It must have been Erica’s imagination that everyone in the embassy’s foyer was watching her descend the staircase. After all, Mr. Aldridge would not have spoken to anyone else about her activity. Was it that unusual for a woman to enter these environs? How she wished she had something better to wear, something newer and without the carefully stitched tear on the skirt or the salt stain on the sleeve that she could not completely remove no matter how hard she scrubbed. How she wished for sleep and more time to prepare. But there was none of that, just the moment at hand and the staring eyes. She avoided looking directly at anyone as she crossed the foyer and approached the clerk standing before the doorway.
“Good afternoon, Miss Langston. Mr. Aldridge is ready to see you now.”
The minister had an antechamber to his office, where a second clerk worked and where several men in formal daywear stood and muttered. At least, they usually did. Never before had she felt so many eyes upon her.
The clerk knocked once and did not wait for a response. He slid open one of the heavy double doors leading to the inner sanctum and announced, “Miss Langston has arrived, Mr. Aldridge.”
“Right on time as well. Let her in.”
As she passed, the clerk asked Erica, “Will you take tea, Miss Langston?”
She did not trust her voice and so made do with a tiny shake of her head.
“Nonsense. The good woman has been up all night working on these matters. Of course she shall have tea. With a dollop of milk and two sugars, if I recall.” Samuel Aldridge was already up and moving around his desk. “Here, take this chair. You will be far more comfortable.”
“Thank you, sir.” Her voice was scarcely above a whisper. She carried the two ledgers tight against her front, a shield against the tirade she knew her revelations would release.
“You know Mr. Carnathan, do you not?”
“Indeed, Mr. Minister.” Carnathan was one of four Englishmen who worked in the embassy. He was a sharp-nosed gentleman who walked with a slight stoop. He was also the only man there who regularly wore a powdered wig. It was the height of fashion among those attached to the royal court, but Erica thought it looked rather foppish. “Good afternoon, sir.”
“Really, sir, I scarcely see how this could possibly be so vital as to draw me away from the matters of such pressing—”
“Attend us a moment, if you will.” The words were mild, the voice calm. But the steel was most evident.
“Oh, very well. Although I hope this will not delay us long.”
“I am quite certain Miss Langston will not keep us a moment longer than necessary.” Samuel talked of inconsequential things while his aide poured Erica a cup of tea. “Perhaps you would care to begin?”
Erica found herself very glad after all for the tea, which helped to unseal her throat. “I fear I must impart some bad news, sir.”
“Do you, now.”
“Very bad news indeed.”
“How extraordinary.” He laced his fingers across his vest front. “Please go on.”
The realization hit Erica with a jolt. He already knew. The shock was enough to draw the entire room into focus. She sensed that the aide must know as well. She saw how he crossed and uncrossed his legs, the silver buckle on his shoes catching the light as he bounced his foot up and down. His hands were never still. His two rings danced in the light as he adjusted his cravat, the frills of his shirtfront, the buttons on his embroidered vest, the lay of his powdered wig.
She returned her gaze to Mr. Aldridge. He was waiting in utter stillness, apparently willing to give her all the time she required. Oh yes. He most certainly knew.
So she used a far blunter tone than she had planned. “Mr. Aldridge, you have been robbed.”
“Have I, now.”
“I fear this is something that has been going on for some time. Perhaps all the way back to your arrival.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Most remarkable. You may continue.”
She opened the two ledgers on the desk before her. “If I may draw your attention to these pages, you will see—”
“I fear the exposition of figures will serve no end save to baffle me entirely. Please let us go straight to the heart of the matter.”
She settled back into her chair. “The clerk you employed was stealing from you.”
Carnathan exploded, “Preposterous!”
“I fear not, sir.”
“Minister Aldridge, this woman is quite mad.”
“Humor me a moment longer, Carnathan. Do go on, Miss Langston.”
“The ledger entries were absolute nonsense, sir.” Erica drew strength and confidence from Mr. Aldridge’s manner. Enough to speak aloud the mystery she had discovered hidden in the piles. “They served no purpose save to mask the fact that moneys supposedly being paid to your creditors were in fact landing straight in someone’s pocket.”
Carnathan bolted from his chair. “I shall stand for no more of—”
“Sit down, Carnathan.”
“Really, sir, I must protest in the strongest terms.”
The steel in Samuel Aldridge’s voice and gaze emerged a fraction farther from their scabbard. “Sit.”
Erica continued. “There is a regular pattern, sir. A bill comes in. An entry is made into the ledger that it has been paid. A period follows—sometimes weeks, in some cases several months. Then another bill. Then oftentimes a letter follows. Sometimes this is from a solicitor, other times from a bank. Some are very strongly worded.”
“Yes,” Samuel Aldridge murmured. “I remember seeing one such letter not long ago.”
“These bills and letters have been hidden in the most remarkable of places. I found them inside books on your shelves. One folder was tucked beneath the carpet. Another folder rested under the settee cushion. They were slipped among your personal documents and in your desk drawers beneath all manner of other items. What I do not understand …”
“Yes? What is unclear?”
“Well, sir, I could not understand why these bills were not simply destroyed by the person stealing from you.”
“A most astute question. Would you not agree, Carnathan? Why on earth would such damaging evidence be left lying about my private study?”
Erica realized that the aide was sweating. His eyes seemed unable to rest upon anything for more than a fraction of a second. “I-I can only suppose it is because the matter is not at all as this woman proposes.”
“Do you? Do you indeed? Could it not be something else entirely? Could this entire procedure be part of a careful scheme? One intended to discredit me and my station?”
“That is utter—”
“Could this have been designed not to enrich the clerk in question but rather to have me publicly branded a scoundrel? One who lives by means of defrauding his creditors?”
Carnathan had grown as pale as his wig. “What you are proposing, sir, is nothing short of scandalous.”
“Scandalous. Yes. I agree. A scandal would most certainly have erupted. Is it not true that there are parties among the royal court who would dearly love to see the minister put to shame?”
“I can think of no one who would dream of such a thing.” Carnathan withdrew an embroidered handkerchief from his sleeve and mopped his brow. “Forgive me. I find this chamber quite stifling.”
“You are well acquainted with everyone at court, are you not?” Mr. Aldridge did not give his aide a chance to respond. “You were also the one who advised me to hire this clerk in the first place.”
“The man came with the most glowing recommendations.” He attempted to draw himself up sternly. “I hope you are not implying that I had anything to do with such a dastardly scheme.”
“Naturally not. Instead, to demonstrate my trust for you, I shall place these critical matters into your care. First, I wish for you to take this matter before the court and have a warrant issued for the clerk’s arrest. Second, I shall hold you personally responsible for tracking down whoever it was behind this scheme. For conspiracy it was, of that I have no doubt. And then you shall make the entire affair public and seek to bring these scoundrels to swift justice.”
