by Leenie Brown
He scrubbed his face. In all of this, he worried the most about Mary. She had just come to trust him. If these lies were to be spread widely and reach her, that fledgling trust would be destroyed and most likely irreparably. He shook his head, unwilling to contemplate it further.
Tom looked over the list before folding it and putting it in his pocket while assuring Gabe that he would see everything was done that was necessary. “But I cannot see it being a necessity. A repayment of funds, I can see, but you have worked with these men for three years now! They must know how concerned you are about seeing things done correctly.”
“They are also put out with me after our difference of opinion on the number of crew members to send on the next voyage.”
“But to the point of consigning your life away?” Tom gave him a look of utter disbelief.
“I just want to be prepared for all eventualities, and we have taken on three new partners in the last year. None of them have put up as much money as I have, but they seem eager to challenge me for the position.”
“Have any of them had access to these ledgers?”
Gabe shook his head. “I was appointed the overseer of the accounts three months ago.”
The two good friends fell into pensive silence. Gabe was certain that Tom was attempting to reason out what could have happened, just as he was. He wished him luck, for he had been pondering it for three weeks now – since the first appearance of a discrepancy between what was reported in the coffers and in his ledger.
Gabe sighed, breaking the silence. “I should just bring them the missing funds and be done with it and them. They can keep the accounts. They can fit the boat for the next journey without my funds or input. I should just wash my hands of the whole business.”
“But?”
“I cannot. I did not lose or steal that money, and I shall not pay for the sins of another until I am forced to do so.”
Tom rose as Gabe closed his ledger and slipped it into his leather satchel.
“Are you calling at the Grants’ home?” Tom asked.
“I would like to.”
“Do you mind if I join you?”
Gabe shook his head. “I find I wish to be surrounded by friends at the moment.”
Tom clapped him on the shoulder. “All will work out for the best, my friend.”
“I wish I had your well of optimism.” He stopped to look out over the floors of the warehouse. How he enjoyed all of this activity and the excitement of the arrival of new goods! He would miss this.
“Mr. Durward!”
Gabe turned toward one of the things about this place he would not miss. “How may I be of service, Mr. Radcliff?” The man was an ever-present, bothersome shadow.
“We did not want to miss you before you left,” he held out a missive to Gabe. “I am to tell you that someone will pick up the books from your home tomorrow. There is no need for you to come in until things are resolved.”
So they were going to oust him before they even examined the evidence? How noble!
“I have orders to be filled,” Gabe said.
“Someone will see to them. It is all there in the note.”
Gabe scanned the note. “Well, then, seeing as you require my key, allow me to gather my personal effects before you lock me out of my office – an office for which I have paid on time as required for several years.”
Radcliff scampered after him as Gabe returned to his office with long determined strides to collect the few items which were his and place them in a small crate that was normally used for collecting paper to be burned. Outrage at this sort of high-handed treatment overspread him.
“You do not mind if I use this crate, do you?” He skewered Radcliff with a harsh glare. “As you can see I am not taking anything that is not solely and completely mine aside from this crate, which I will return with the ledgers in the morning.”
“I am certain that is acceptable,” Radcliff replied.
Gabe thrust his key into the weaselly fellow’s hand and barely refrained from giving in to the wish to slam the door. However, there was no need to draw undue notice.
“He seemed happy to see you go,” Tom commented as they exited the building.
“We have never gotten on well,” Gabe explained. “He is too fond of simpering.”
Tom chuckled. “Yes, I can see how that would annoy a fellow like yourself.”
“It should annoy anyone with sense,” Gabe retorted. “Tossed out of my own office before one of them has even taken a look at the blasted books! I told you, Tom, they are not a sensible lot. It is why I have given you that list. It might very well become necessary.”
“It is a precaution. Both your list and their actions.” Tom settled into his carriage across from Gabe whose horse was being ridden by a groom behind them. “They do not want you to have an opportunity to magically make the money reappear or more to disappear. Not that you would or have or anything like that.”
Gabe huffed. Years of working with a group of men and this was the trust they gave him! It was truly no better than the company. It, like the company, was a corrupted entity. It was just smaller in scale, but no matter how large a business might be, there was always the danger of someone acting with little integrity and a lot of greed.
“It is what you would do,” Tom ventured, earning himself a glare from Gabe.
“Most likely.” He did not want to admit it, but it was more than likely how he would handle a situation where someone was suspected of theft.
“In a way,” Tom continued. “It protects you. If something were to go missing tonight, you could not be held responsible.”
“Nothing will go missing tonight,” Gabe grumbled. Whoever was behind the missing money did not seem stupid enough to make himself so obvious. Until this moment, Gabe had not considered very seriously that someone was doing more than making him look bad to undermine his position in the partnership.
“How can you be so certain?” Tom asked.
“I am not, but it seems that if there is someone in that place who wishes me gone, they will not do something to help prove my innocence.”
It was the only explanation that made sense to him. Very much like Lady St. James and her helpful friend Miss Morton who had attempted to make him look guilty yesterday, whoever was swindling his business was attempting to take him down in the process.
In the case of Lady St. James, Gabe knew what she held against him. However, in regard to his business, he did not know the motivation behind the actions taken since just wishing to be lead shareholder did not seem to be a strong enough reason.
Tom allowed it to be true and turned the discussion somewhat. “Do you still wish to call on Miss Crawford?”
Gabe closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the squabs. He longed to see Mary. Since yesterday, after speaking to Tom about the missing funds and agreeing with him that it was wisest to inform his partners sooner rather than later of the incongruities in the accounts, he had longed to see Mary and tell her of his troubles. Whether or not she would willingly help him bear such difficulties, he was not sure, but just the thought of having her beside him as he dealt with this mess had comforted him enough to find a few hours of sleep.
Now, he longed to see her so that he might have one last opportunity to convince her of his integrity and see her beautiful face just one more time – if it should, indeed, happen to be the last. He heaved a sigh.
“I should say my farewells, I suppose. Just in case.” He had a dreadful feeling that things were going to get worse before they got better – if they ever got better.
“I would suggest a pint before we call. It seems you could use something to help lift your morose mood. It is unlike you.”
To Gabe, it seemed a good idea. If things went poorly, as they seemed to be doing, he was in danger of losing something of far greater value than his business. His heart would be utterly crushed if Mary were to turn him away or if he had to walk away from her, and that knowledge, more than any
of his other present trials, was the root of his morose. Therefore, he needed a few minutes to collect himself before he presented himself to Miss Crawford. And so, they stopped for a pint before arriving at the Grants.
~*~*~
“Henry?” Tom said as he exited the carriage before Gabe. “What has you pacing in front of Dr. Grant’s house?”
“Dr. Grant is about to have an apoplexy, and I cannot sit still and watch that.” Henry shook his head, turned away from them, and looked up the street.
“I am not certain I understand your meaning,” Gabe said. “Are you waiting for the physician to arrive?”
Again, Henry shook his head and with a wave of his hand toward the house added, “The physician is in there.”
“You mean to say, Dr. Grant is truly ill?” Tom asked.
Henry removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Not without reason.” He looked at Gabe. “Did my sisters come to see you today?”
Gabe shook his head. “I have not seen either of your sisters in two days.”
“Well, as upset as Mary was with you, I did not expect they would have, but I had to ask.”
Gabe glanced at Tom who looked just as confused as Gabe felt. Mr. Crawford had always struck Gabe as a fellow that was in good control of his faculties, but at present, the man seemed to be nearly wild with illogicalness.
“Henry,” Tom said quietly, “why was Mary upset with Gabe?”
“Some woman,” Henry paced away from them and back. “What am I to do? They should have been home an hour ago? Mary will sometimes run late to her time, for she says she cannot be dictated to by a watch, but Margaret? Margaret is as constant as the sun’s rising. She is always punctual to her time.”
“It would help us greatly if you would tell us all the bits and pieces about what you are speaking,” Gabe suggested.
“Maybe while consuming some port,” Tom offered.
“Bow Street!” Henry cried. “I could go to Bow Street. They are good at finding people.”
Panic was beginning to build within Gabe. “Tell me what has happened?” he demanded, taking Henry by the shoulders before the man could fly off to Bow Street.
“I do not know what has happened,” Henry replied. “I attempted to see Mary last evening, but she was not up to seeing anyone. In fact, she was as beside herself as I have ever seen her.”
“And why was that?”
“Because you were being greeted by some exotic mistress.”
“I beg your pardon?” Gabe nearly shouted. “I have no mistress.”
“I do not believe you do!” Henry shouted back. “But, my sisters saw you being greeted with a kiss at some house somewhere, although they did not know where they were. She and Margaret had gone for a drive after Lady St. James had been vicious upon meeting them at a store and put the notion of your having a mistress in Mary’s head, which is why I do not believe they saw what they thought they saw. Lady St. James is not known for refraining from concocting stories that suit her purposes.”
Gabe shook his head. Lady St. James had been working long and hard yesterday to do her damage it seemed. That is was his mother Mary had seen could be explained later. For now, he only wished to know why Henry seemed so frantic. So, he remained quiet and allowed Henry to continue.
“Mary and Margaret went for a walk in the park today and were supposed to be home to receive me an hour ago. They have yet to appear, and just before the physician was summoned, we received word that they had not returned to their carriage nor could they be seen in the portion of the park where they said they would be.”
“They are missing?” Panic bloomed in all its glory within Gabe. His heart, though it was beating at a ferocious pace, seemed to have fallen into his stomach, causing him to feel both nauseous and lightheaded.
Henry nodded. “And I have no idea where to look to find them.”
Gabe turned and looked up and then down the street, hoping that by some miracle, Henry could be wrong, and Mary would be seen returning home. But she was not. He must keep his wits about him. He knew he must. It was the only way to survive a skirmish. What they needed was a plan.
Turning back to Henry and Tom, he said, “I must take those ledgers home so that they are there when the messenger calls for them tomorrow, and then…” He was at a loss for how to continue. He knew how to track the enemy on the sea, but on land and when the enemy was not known to him? He could not formulate a plan. He only knew that he must, simply must, find Mary.
Chapter 12
The sound of lapping water and the rocking motion of whatever hard object Mary sat against stirred her. She groaned as she attempted to turn her head. Her eyes flew open when she found she could not lift her hand to rub the sore spot on her head. Her hands and feet were tied, and the rope around them was connected in such a way that she could not straighten her legs without leaning forward. Nor could she lift her hands without tugging her feet towards herself. Someone leaned against her. Slowly, she turned her head to see who it might be.
“Margaret.” Even though Mary whispered, her voice sounded very loud in the dark stillness that surrounded her. “Margaret,” she repeated, giving her sister’s head a nudge with her shoulder.
She held her breath as she heard footsteps above her, followed by a cry of “Cast off, boys! Cast off!”
“Margaret!” Mary whispered more frantically. “Margaret.” She nudged her sister who began to moan. “I think we are on a ship, Margaret. Please wake up. I cannot remain calm alone.”
“A ship?” Margaret’s voice was slurred.
“Are you well?”
“I cannot move my hands!” Every bit of slur was gone from Margaret’s voice. She was obviously fully awake, jolted to full consciousness just as Mary had been by their shocking circumstances.
“Nor can I. We are bound and stashed in a ship. What are we to do?”
“There’s not much we can do unless you can untie me, and I can untie you.”
“And then what do would we do?”
“Stretch our legs,” Margaret retorted. “I am most uncomfortable.”
“Shhh.”
Again, Mary listened to footsteps.
“We will be away from the quay soon, Sir,” someone above her said.
There was a small gap above Mary, and she could just see a bit of light. Try as she might, however, she could not see more than a bit of a boot.
“When we are, I shall see to our cargo. Do you see any suspicious lights on the dock? Did anyone question your boarding?”
“No, Sir, all is quiet as it should be. No one will miss her until the sun rises.”
“Good, good. I should not wish for this plan to fall apart now. Not when we have our hands on the prize.” One set of footsteps departed, but Mary could still hear someone above them, shifting to and fro as if pacing a short distance and back. Something scurried across the floor near her and her sister, causing her to shudder and shift her focus from the gap overhead to her surroundings.
“Was it a rat?” Margaret whispered.
“I do not want to consider if it is or not,” Mary replied. “I cannot think about that now.” She was barely keeping herself from crying in fright as it was. If she were to think about some rodent running across the floor near her and possibly approaching her. She shuddered again. No, she would not think about it. She must not.
“I do not like rats,” Margaret whimpered.
“No one does. Now, stop talking about rats, and do not cry. We must not cry.” She could hear Margaret sniffling.
“But I am scared.”
“I know,” Mary moved her hands and legs so that she could pat Margaret’s knee. “But we must attempt not to show it. I think these men would be happy to have us be fearful, and I do not wish to make them happy.”
Margaret sniffled again. “You are right, of course, but I do not think I can be as strong as you.”
“Only try.”
“I will, but do not hate me if I fail.”
“I could ne
ver hate you, Margaret.”
“Oh, what are we going to do?”
Mary sighed and shook her head. “I do not know beyond attempting to hide our fear and not speaking of rats.”
The two sisters sat silently, listening to the sounds above and around them. Despite the anxiety she felt, Mary found she could not keep her eyes from closing and her mind from drifting toward sleep. Her head hurt, and she was so tired.
“What are you doing!” Mary cried as she came entirely to her senses and tugged her feet back from the man who was pulling on them.
“I be trying to free your feet, but if you wish to remain as you are, then it is no bother to me.” He folded his knife.
“Tell me why you are doing it, and I might allow you to continue.”
“I ain’t got to tell you nothing.” The man sank back onto his heels.
“That is not what I heard your boss tell you,” Margaret said before Mary could think of any reason for the man to tell her why he was attempting to free her feet.
“Is it a boss or a captain?” Margaret continued. “I am certain I do not know. We are on a ship so perhaps it must be captain. Unless, of course, he is not the captain, but he is just the man telling you what to do with the cargo. No, the cargo would be under the captain’s domain, would it not?”
“Silence!” the man cried.
“I only wish to get the terminology correct,” Margaret retorted.
Mary pressed her lips together. Margaret was excessively good at feigning ignorance to annoy an aggressor.
“And your boss or captain – I do not know what to call him since you will not tell me – said we were to be freed to move around our….” she paused. “I do apologize, but I am afraid I do not know what this part of a ship is called. Is it a storeroom?”