“You’ve been very quiet,” Isabella said.
He let out a deep breath, wiped his lips with a piece of linen, and held it in his hand.
“I don’t think Maurice would keep a document that important laying out on the shelves. I’m sure he would put it in a place for safe keeping.”
“There are some books and papers in his room. Perhaps he kept the document there,” Jeanne Marie said as she and Isabella cleared the table. “Why don’t you have a look?”
He put the fabric on the table, took a candle, and went to Maurice’s bedroom.
Graham trudged up the stairs to Maurice’s room. He opened the door, crossed the threshold, and looked about not knowing what to expect. A large neatly made bed was against the far wall. Two straight-backed chairs, a washstand, a bureau—without any mirror was on the far wall. In place of the mirror was a cabinet filled with scrolls and manuscripts. Drapery covered the windows and tapestries of gardens were on the wall.
Maurice’s bow and quiver rested on the mantel as if they waited for him to return.
Jeanne Marie kept the room spotless, and even the linens appeared to be fresh. Graham looked through the few things that were in the cabinet: a personal journal dating from before he left for the Crusades, inspirational writings. No agreement.
Graham looked under the carpet and behind the bed for a secret panel. Nothing.
He stood in the center of the room and slowly spun in a circle hoping to see anything that was out of place. Nothing. He ran his hand through his hair. Perhaps Olivier could shed light on where the agreement might be.
Tired, he went on to his room.
Chapter Five
Day Three at the Winery
Graham lay in bed, his hands behind his head staring at the ceiling. His mind wouldn’t slow. The idea that Nolan had a second book with accounts made him uncomfortable. Was Nolan trying to sabotage the winery? What would he gain? Could there be one ledger with two sections, one with numbers and one with letters? He had avoided thinking that Isabella might be involved, although deep in his heart he didn’t see how he could continue avoiding addressing the possibility.
This was getting him nowhere. There were as many questions now as he had when he arrived. Perhaps Nolan wanted to even scores. He had to open his eyes, look at every possibility. Too awake to doze off, he got out of bed and went to the window.
The moon was bright and from his perch on the second floor he had a clear view of the vineyard and the winery office. Everything was locked down tight and snug. Besides speaking to Olivier tomorrow he wanted to look at the accounts again. Maybe he missed something.
Graham headed back to bed but stopped. Who was he fooling? He was wide awake. All he would do was toss and turn in bed and spend the following day out of sorts. Another quick glance outside and he made his decision.
He dressed and went downstairs. Making sure not to make a sound, he left the chateau by the back door being sure to close the gate and headed for the winery office.
The night was clear. The air was thick and heavy with the sweetness of the grapes. In the distance, the winery was a black silhouette against a sky filled with stars.
His hand on the office latch he stopped. Whatever he found, it was his obligation to Hugh and Charlotte to dig deep into what was happening with their interests in Châlons. Graham took a deep breath and went inside.
Graham stood for a moment to let his eyes get accustomed to the dark. He reached for the tinderbox next to the candle and had it lit in a heartbeat.
Then he made his way to the desk. Anxiously, he opened the drawer. Relieved to find receipts and the account book, he took them out and laid it on the desk. He thumbed through pages and pages of accounts, each with an amount neatly written next to it. The ledger didn’t have a second section with letters replacing the numbers. He settled into the chair prepared to look at each entry.
The entry for the grapes Nolan purchased was listed. He kept looking and found similar entries. Something was not right. Every entry had details. Every entry except the grape purchases. Who was he buying grapes from?
He searched through the receipts but didn’t find any for the grapes. He rummaged through every drawer. Nothing. Restless, he went to the table next to the hearth and poured himself some fortified wine from the decanter.
He raked his hand through his hair. What was he doing here this late? There was nothing here. He finished the wine and was about to step away from the hearth when something caught his attention.
A piece of parchment was against the hearth wall. He pulled it out and set it down on the desk. It was eight lines from an account ledger and instead of numbers next to the entries were letters.
He slammed his hand on the desk nearly upsetting the candle. He went back to the hearth and scattered the embers, looking for more pieces of parchment. He found a fragment or two, but nothing as large as the first piece he found.
The ledger tucked away in the desk, he put the parchment pieces in his belt, snuffed out the candle, and left the office.
The moonlight poured through the window in the pressing room and fell on boxes of grapes. No one had harvested the vineyard. These had to be the grapes Nolan bought. Even he knew the fruit had to be pressed as soon as they were picked, or else the flavor changed.
Curious, he went inside, plucked off a grape, and tasted it. Sweet. And familiar. He pulled out his dirk and cut off a cluster and headed to the lower field. It didn’t take him long.
He went to the middle of the line of vines and pushed back the leaves. He found stubs where bunches of grapes had grown. He went through the lower vineyard and pulled off small clusters of fruit from bunches from several different vines. He didn’t bother to taste them, instead, he marched back to the chateau.
“Isabella,” He tapped on her bedroom door. “Isabella.” He knocked a bit harder.
The door opened a crack. “What is it?”
She was in beautiful disarray. Her hair around her shoulders as he had imagined. Her eyes were sleepy. Her shawl pulled tight around her, he could only guess at what was underneath.
“Meet me in the kitchen.” He stalked away down the stairs.
A few minutes later she entered the kitchen all pulled together, her eyes wide awake, her hair neatly tied back.
She sat across the table from him. “Why did you wake me? Couldn’t you wait until morning?”
He put the clusters of grapes on the table.
She looked at the grapes, then at him.
“Taste one from each cluster.” He knew what she would say.
She plucked one from the first cluster and bit into it. Her gaze went straight to him. “These are from the lower field.”
He pushed the other clusters toward her without saying a word, gesturing for her to eat.
Again, she pulled a grape from each cluster and ate them. “They are all from the lower field. The taste is the same.”
“This cluster,” he pointed to the first one she pulled a grape from, “is from the box of grapes Nolan bought.”
Her face blanched white. “No one else grows grapes like this.”
“You are correct,” he said. He didn’t like the image that was forming in his head. He had more to show her, as painful as it was. “Did Nolan begin the harvest?”
“No. He hasn’t been here all day.”
“Something else bothered me. Nolan told me he bought grapes to make up for the ones in the lower field. I wanted to know who he could buy grapes from that could compare to ours. So I searched the ledger. Nolan writes details for every purchase and sale he’s made, but there was no information about the grapes.
“On my way back to the chateau I found a box of grapes in the pressing room. Curious, I tasted one and recognized the flavor.”
“That’s impossible. The ground in the lower field is unique. It’s made up of limestone, chalk, and marl. That’s what gives the grapes their unique flavor.”
“I went to the lower field.” He stared at her and wat
ched as realization cleared her vision. “All these clusters came from the lower field. Can you tell the difference?”
“No,” she whispered.
“There is more. I looked at the vines and found that some bunches of grapes had been removed. It looks like someone is taking our own grapes and Nolan is buying them.”
She shook her head in disbelief.
He pulled the piece of scorched parchment from his belt and placed it in front of her.
He scooted closer to the table. “You mentioned you saw his ledger with letters in the place of numbers. The account book he showed me had numbers. It bothered me. I decided to take a second look at the account book. All the entries had numbers. The only answer is he has a second ledger.
“Is this what you saw in Nolan’s account book?”
She picked it up, examined it, then put it down. Isabella glanced at him, her mouth gaping, her eyes fixed, not on Graham but through him.
“Isabella?”
She blinked and refocused.
“Why is your name on this?”
He watched as her world caved in. He would swear she had no knowledge of the entries. All she did was shake her head. After a few heartbeats, she looked at him.
“I swear. I do not know why my name is on this scrap.”
“Do the dates mean anything?” he asked.
Isabella shook her head, then stopped. She stood up and took a small box off a shelf and brought it back to the table.
Graham looked inside. It was filled with dispatches. He recognized the handwriting. Charlotte. Together they matched the dates on the scrap to the dates of the messages. He put the parchment back in his belt.
“Why would Nolan keep an accounting of Charlotte’s correspondence to you?” he asked.
“Did Charlotte send a bank note with every dispatch?” He didn’t need her to say a word. The answer was written on her face.
“Yes. This must be his accounting of the money she sent.” He had to admire her composure. She was boiling beneath the surface as she gathered the messages and put them into the box.
“Why is he keeping an account of the chateau funds? Isn’t that your responsibility?”
“I have no idea. I’m sure he has a good reason.” She sprang to her feet returned it to the shelf.
Jeanne Marie padded into the kitchen.
“What are you both doing up so early? The sun isn’t even over the horizon.” She was already preparing to make bread.
“I had a question for Isabella and couldn’t wait until morning.”
Jeanne Marie turned to Graham, a twinkle in her eye.
“Good morning, Monsieur Olivier.” The guild master sat at a large table in the guild hall, a trencher to the side of him with a small loaf of brown bread, crisp bacon, and the remnants of a pair of poached eggs. A tankard of ale nearby.
“Graham. How are you enjoying Châlons?”
“It has been an education. I have a greater appreciation for wine. I came today to speak to you about Labatrelle.”
“Please, have a seat.” Olivier indicated the chair in front of him. While Graham got comfortable, Olivier grabbed an empty tankard behind him and filled it with ale.
“It’s not wine, but alas, I find ale more agreeable in the morning.” He handed Graham the tankard.
Graham had expected Olivier to be resistant to discussing the winery. His open, almost eager expression startled him.
“My request doesn’t appear to surprise you.”
Olivier hesitated a moment as if weighing a decision. “I sent a message to Miles. I told him I had concerns. You arrived a few days later. I could only guess that you were charged with your task before my message reached him.”
The tightness eased across Graham’s neck and shoulders. He settled in the chair and took a hearty drink of ale. He still had to choose his words with care. It was a relief nonetheless to be honest and get heartfelt advice.
“Let me assure you, the quality of the last year’s wine from the Labatrelle winery was outstanding, and this year will most likely be the same.” Olivier paused for a moment, then continued. “It is next year you should be questioning.
“This growing season has had its challenges. But Nolan plays a dangerous game delaying the harvest, especially with the grapes in the lower vineyard. Those grapes hold the secret to Labatrelle’s wine. Blended correctly, no one can produce a better wine. But leaving the grapes on the vine this late with the threat of losing their sweetness… and frost, well, you can lose the entire vintage.
“Does he know that the wine depends on those grapes? Or did Maurice keep the secret even from him?”
“He knows the grapes are a crucial piece of the success of the wine, but he doesn’t know the proportions. As far as I know only Maurice knew the secret.”
“I think there is a second person. I didn’t understand why he held off harvesting them until I found these.”
Graham took a cluster of grapes from his satchel. “These had been delivered to the winery yesterday.”
Olivier pluck one from the bunch and bit into it. His eyes widened.
“I went to the field and took this cluster from the vine.” He pulled a second cluster of grapes from his satchel.
Olivier gave him a skeptical look and tasted a grape from the second bunch.
“They are the same.”
“I think Nolan is taking Labatrelle grapes and selling them back to the winery. He’s also been telling Isabella that the lower field is no longer producing a high-quality grape. Nolan’s told her it would be best to sell the winery before anyone finds out. He’s told me the same thing.”
Olivier chuckled. “Not too long ago Nolan told me he wanted to sell that parcel of land. The field is difficult to maintain. He kept telling me Maurice didn’t know anything about grapes. In truth, it was that conversation that prompted my message to Miles.”
“The only message Charlotte and Miles received about difficulties at the winery was from Isabella.” He paused for a moment. “Are you aware of anyone inquiring about buying the winery?”
Olivier perked up. “No. Not buying it. Nolan went to the Champagne Fair and talked to people about selling the winery. I started getting inquiries. When I mentioned the inquiries to Nolan he became very upset. He didn’t know that as guild master I am essential in those negotiations.”
“Would any of this talk affect the winery sales?”
“I don’t think so. Bad wine is the only thing that could hurt the winery.”
“One last question. Is it true Maurice gave his friend LaBarge forty percent of the winery?”
“Is that what Nolan told you?” The man laughed. “Maurice and LaBarge had a long history. LaBarge had seen to Marie, Maurice’s wife and managed the winery while Maurice was off in the Crusades fighting for the king. When he returned, Maurice gave him forty percent of the profits. LaBarge was more than grateful. I have never seen two more devoted friends. I was with them when they signed the agreement. Maurice kept it tucked away safely at the chateau. Nolan can spend his money any way he wants, but he cannot touch the winery unless he buys it. To do that, he’ll need to speak to Charlotte.”
“Charlotte?”
“Yes, she is the beneficiary of Maurice’s estate.”
“You have my thanks.”
Graham left the guild and walked up the path to the chateau to the back door. Isabella was in the kitchen. He took an apple out of the bowl on the table and leaned against the wall.
“I went to the guild and spoke with Monsieur Olivier. The winery profits grew last year. There were no signs of it failing.”
Her mouth moved, but nothing came out. “You must be wrong. We were fortunate last year, but the damage was done, and we’ll begin suffering this year. Nolan is stalling the harvest to ensure the grapes are at their peak. The land is deteriorating. Leaving the grapes on the vine is the only solution. He surprised everyone with that action. Some of the workers argued with him. One word led to another and the men left.” She
stopped chopping and looked at him. “Nolan gave them a taste of last year’s wine to prove…”
Her face went white.
“Isabella?” He pushed off the wall.
She began chopping the vegetables again. “Forgive me. Something came to mind.”
“What is it?” He put the apple with Isabella’s vegetable scraps. He didn’t want to press her. He needed to know what sparked her reaction. “Isabella, I must know.”
“The wine barrel I ruined at the guild hall.” She didn’t look at him. “It was dated last year. Last year’s wine was outstanding, full bodied with the right amount of sweetness. I gave you some the first day you were here. I wanted you to taste our best.”
He was the last person she had to convince. That’s when he realized: she needed to convince herself.
“There are no other grapes like them in the area. They can make any wine taste superb. Like your Lord Reynolds will not give away the secret about his beer, those grapes are the secret to our wine.”
“I agree. The Labatrelle wine was superb.” He let her go on.
“The cask at the guild hall was vinegar. I had to spit it out. It couldn’t be from the same pressing. I… I purposefully knocked into the table so the cask would split open. I didn’t want you or Monsieur Olivier to taste it.”
“How did Olivier get the cask?”
She put the knife down and wiped her hands and looked away from him.
“Isabella, what’s wrong?”
She swung her head around and gazed at him. “Nolan brought the cask to Olivier that morning.”
“It’s time I spoke to Nolan,” Graham said. “Is there anything else?”
“There are other things. Small things that I’d rather not disclose without being sure.”
“I understand if they’re personal.”
She lifted her chin. “Personal. With Nolan?”
“I thought the two of you—”
“No. I had no choice but to tolerate him, especially when Miles and Charlotte left.” Her emphatic answer surprised him.
Graham: Pirates of Britannia Connected World (Sons of Sagamore Book 2) Page 7