by Shirley Roe
Ian stared at his uncle. He was not counting on Mr. Johnson telling him about Miss Barstow and once again he began to squirm. “Yes….. Yes, she was offered the position, but obviously a woman was not qualified to run the department. She is learning more each day, under my supervision, of course.” Ian looked at his uncle to see if the older man was convinced. The most important thing was to keep his uncle away from the office. John's face was blank. As Lord Provost of Edinburgh, he knew how to hide his emotions very well.
“Good, Ian. I am glad to hear that you are taking this job seriously. I cannot stress enough the importance of your keeping this job. I do not want to hear any derogatory comments about your performance, do you understand?” John Murphy moved to the edge of his chair, signaling his intention to end the conversation. “Perhaps, I will drop by your office next week to see this new assistant of yours. Now I must go.” John rose from the chair. As if by magic, the butler appeared at his side with John's coat and hat. Ian stood, extended his hand and watched him go. Ruth quickly exited the hallway for the kitchen.
The huge front door closed and blast of cool air entered the house. As a shiver ran down his back, Ian sank into the settee. Expelling a large sigh of air, he took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. He pushed a lock of blond hair back into place. A visit, just what he did not want. He knew that Jenny Barstow knew more about bookkeeping than he ever would. In fact, she was so quick with figures that even he was amazed. How could he convince his uncle that he was teaching her, when in fact she was doing all the work and without any help from him. His inheritance from his father depended on him having steady employment for the next three years. Uncle John was the trustee of his father's estate, and Ian was not about to lose it all because of some mousy woman that knew more than he did. Ian Murphy would have to come up with a solution. Now what do I do?
John Murphy was not pleased with the conversation. Ian was obviously hiding something, and John was going to find out exactly what it was. He remembered back to the meeting with Mr. Johnson. The man was hesitant to explain why Ian needed an assistant, but John had insisted he tell him the truth. Mr. Johnson told him how quickly Miss Barstow had detected the error in the invoice explaining, why he had originally hired her weeks before. Why would someone that intelligent need to be supervised, much less taught, by a useless, scallywag like his nephew? Mr. Johnson also told him that Ian was not pleased about the arrangement. The young man really was the least ambitious person this family had ever experienced. John knew he was waiting for his inheritance at twenty-five, but John had no intention of watching Ian squander all of the money his father had worked so hard to acquire. It was no secret the young man like the ladies, fine brandy and the polo ponies. He showed no sign of settling down at twenty-two years of age. Most young men his age had established careers, were married or engaged and had homes of their own. Ever since her husband died, his sister-in-law catered to Ian's every whim. As an only child, he was spoiled and lazy. It was time he started taking some responsibility. Something must be done, thought John. I must meet this mysterious young woman.
Ruth Murphy supervised the supper menu and then went to find her son. She found him in the great room, exactly where she had left him. Slowly and quietly she walked to the settee. The only sound was the rustle of her taffeta dress as she approached. Taking his hand, she sat next to him, their bodies in close contact. He turned toward her, resting his head on her shoulder, her long blonde hair mingling with his. She was his security, his comfort. Ian's body instantly relaxed, but his mind was in turmoil. He knew that his mother would not let anything happen to him, but this time he would have to come up with a plan on his own.
Jenny walked the cobbled streets early Monday morning. She pulled her wool coat tighter as a cool wind blew. Winter was approaching and she wondered how cold it would be this far north. Quickening her pace, she wanted to get to the office early to start on the new stack of invoices. She passed the King's Theatre on Levens Street. Admiring the foreboding structure, Jenny spoke out loud, “So you are the cause of all my work these days.” The builder, William Stewart Cruikshank created mounds of new invoices for the city and Jenny had been very busy for the past few weeks making sure they were all correct and accounted for. As she worked on the invoices, Jenny fantasized about going to the theatre, escorted by a handsome Edinburgh gentleman, perhaps even Mr. Murphy. “I shall see you on opening night,” she laughed continuing up the hill.
Arriving before anyone else, Jenny made a pot of tea and settled into her work. Ian had not been in the office for days, but she told herself she didn't miss him. She knew what had to be done, and she made sure all the invoices were processed on time and correctly. She was getting used to having the office to herself, sometimes fantasizing that she was the one in charge, sitting at the large desk, but then she would remember how the job should have been hers in the first place, and a sadness tinged with anger would descend over her. If ever I should meet the Lord Provost, I will give him a piece of my mind. It is his fault that I am Mr. Murphy’s assistant. Ian Murphy could not do this job without me! It is disgusting how he spends his days flirting with the ladies, while I do all the work. Those women fawn all over him. Disgusting! It was becoming very clear to Jenny that Ian Murphy had no interest in invoices, or work in general. What was not clear to her was the jealousy that was brewing in her heart; a jealousy that had more to do with Ian Murphy and the other ladies than the fact that Ian Murphy had been given her job.
Feeling herself tensing, she practiced the breathing exercises that Abigail had taught her. Soon she found herself calm and ready for work. The day passed uneventfully, with no sign of Ian Murphy. Unaware of it herself, she searched for him as she left the building, wanting to catch just a glimpse of his handsome face.
Walking home, Jenny stopped at the Edinburgh Central Library. It was a magnificent structure with more books than Jenny had seen in her young life. She read how the library was the only Carnegie library in Edinburgh and had been officially opened in 1890 by Andrew Carnegie himself. Apparently the steel magnate had made a sizable donation of £50,000 in order to build the library. Jenny was most impressed. Watsworth didn't have a library; perhaps they should write to Mr. Carnegie. This thought made her smile. Watsworth was the last place on earth Andrew Carnegie would want to go to.
Making her way to the librarian's desk, she requested two books by H. Rider Haggard- The Wizard and Elissa, the Doom of Zimbabwe. The woman pointed to the far side of the room and Jenny set off in search of her books. Once she had them, she sat at one of the long tables and began to peruse the contents.
“Rather odd reading for a young lady.” Jenny looked over to find a young man seated to her left. There were four empty chairs between them. Jenny looked at him shyly. Finally finding her voice, she spoke to him quietly.
“I was enthralled with King Solomon’s Mines and wanted to read more by this author. His personal experiences in Africa come to life on the page.” Jenny turned toward the young man, who moved closer. He reached the chair beside her and asked her permission to sit. She nodded.
“I personally liked Black Heart and White Heart: a Zulu Idyll. Have you read it?” The young man was tall, with dark hair and eyes. “Two most notable gests.” Jenny assumed he was a student at one of the city's universities. “Allow me to introduce myself, Harold Mitchell and you are?”
“Jenny Barstow, nice to meet you Mr. Mitchell. Are you a student here in Edinburgh?”
“Actually, I have recently graduated from the Edinburgh University of Medicine. I am now a full-fledged doctor.” Jenny was impressed. She liked his easy manner and friendly tone.
“May I ask if you are a student here?”
“Me? Oh no, I work in the city offices. I am assistant to Mr. Ian Murphy, in the records and accounts department.”
“Ian Murphy? My God, did his uncle get him a job with the city now? Last I heard he was fired from Perkins and Wetherby, Attorneys at Law, and before that Jones
and Wilkins Corporate offices.” Jenny blushed; this was more information than anyone had given her about Mr. Murphy.
“I really don't know any of that as I have only been here a few months myself.” She didn't like this stranger talking about Mr. Murphy in a derogatory way. The stranger realized by her tone that she did not want to discuss her employer. Obviously she did not see Ian Murphy for the scoundrel he was.
“There is much you don't know, Miss Barstow. Lovely meeting you.” Harold laughed at some private joke, before bidding Jenny farewell. “Enjoy your books. Perhaps we can discuss them after you are done? Good evening, Miss Barstow.” She watched him leave. She was rather disturbed when she realized that she was hoping she would see him again. Jenny Barstow, what is the matter with you? He is a perfect stranger.
Harold Mitchell went straight to the Gentlemen's Club on the Royal Mile. “I tell you, Ian Murphy is working in the city offices. I just met his assistant.”
“Dear God, I wonder how long it will be before he messes up and goes to Uncle John for another position. I feel sorry for his assistant. What sort of chap was he?”
“She, my dear, Gordon. Miss Barstow is a woman and a very intelligent one, at that.”
“Well then, she is definitely in jeopardy because Ian Murphy likes the ladies and no woman is safe in his presence. Another pint?” The waiter delivered two hearty pints of lager to the gentlemen. “What do you think about France taking over Morocco? Old German Willy doesn't like it, that's for sure.”
“Wilhelm won't back down until he gets what he wants. There is trouble brewing.”
Harry sipped his lager slowly. “Have you seen Murphy in here lately?”
“No, but I am sure he is up to something, always in trouble that chap.” The two laughed as they gossiped about the Murphys and Ian's many conquests. Harold's mind kept returning to Miss Barstow. He would make it a point to see her again.
Several days later, Mr. Johnson appeared at the door to Mr. Murphy's office. Jenny was working, head down at her desk and there was no sign of Ian Murphy. “Excuse me, Miss Barstow. I am looking for Mr. Murphy.” Jenny looked up in surprise. Seldom did anyone come to the office, unless it was Miss Carter with more work.
“I am sorry, Mr. Johnson, but you just missed him. I believe he had a meeting this afternoon.” Jenny felt her face reddening as she lied. Mr. Johnson noticed her unease.
“When do you expect him back?”
“I really don't know Mr. Johnson. Is there anything I can do?”
“I don't think so Miss Barstow. I am looking for invoices regarding the floral clock in the Edinburgh Gardens. The company claims they have not been paid.”
“Dear me, I am sure we have taken care of everything. Let me look in the files. What is the name of the company?” Jenny took the paper with the information and went immediately to the file cabinet. Mr. Johnson was impressed with her efficiency, but he was wondering where Mr. Murphy was. Jenny looked through the files, but found nothing. “I will speak to Mr. Murphy and get right back to you, Mr. Johnson. I am sure there is some mistake.”
Mr. Johnson turned and left Jenny alone. She quickly went through the invoices on her desk looking for the lost paperwork. Jenny grew more anxious as the afternoon passed and her superior did not appear.
The next day she finally cornered Ian. “It is imperative that we find this invoice, Mr. Murphy. It would have come before I started here. The clock was installed almost a year ago. I checked the cabinet, but so far I have found nothing.”
“It must be here, Miss Barstow. Are you sure it is not on your desk and you just forgot to pay it?” Jenny was affronted by the accusation.
“No, it is not there. I am very sure that I have not seen it.” She wanted to scream at him. It was his responsibility, and this invoice definitely would have come in long before she started working in the office.
Ian moved to his desk and took his position of authority. “Miss Barstow, I think you will have to stay late tonight. This invoice must be found. Start with the archives in the outer office.”
He dismissed her and Jenny turned away, furious. She walked out to the outer office and began to open drawers. How dare he? He wasn't concerned in the least. He expected her to take care of this, just like she took care of everything. Now she had even lied for him. Why did he have this effect on her?
As soon as Jenny left, Ian opened the bottom drawer of his desk, a drawer that he kept locked at all times. In it were dozens of unopened envelopes, most of them invoices that had been neglected by him. He was too busy to open the mail every day, and things just piled up. He looked through them until he found several from the clock company. Quickly opening the envelopes, he took the invoices and stuffed them in the back of Jenny's desk drawer, making sure to crumple them as if they had been there for some time.
He let Jenny search through the archives for hours. Just before closing time, he called her back into his office. “Miss Barstow, I think you should search your desk and the file cabinet in here again. I have looked everywhere, and there are no invoices in my desk. I am making this your responsibility.” He picked up is coat and hat and left Jenny alone in the office.
Jenny stared at his back as he left the room. Frustrated and angry, she sat at her desk, head in hands for what seemed like hours. Her fascination with Ian Murphy was slowly dissipating; she was beginning to see him for the cad that he really was. Jenny wanted to get her coat and leave, but she was duty bound to find those invoices. Slowly she searched the top drawer of her desk. Pencils, pens, and rubber stamps started to pile up on the top of her desk. Finding nothing, she replaced everything as neatly as it had been before. Now the side drawers were emptied. Just as she was about to close the second drawer, she heard the sound of paper crumbling. Down on her knees, Jenny pulled at the back of the drawer and her hand came away with several sheets of paper.
Slowly, she smoothed the crumbled mess and soon realized these were the missing invoices. Tears formed in her eyes. It was not possible. How could she have misplaced them?
Jenny took her job very seriously; she would never put invoices in a drawer. She was fastidious. She had a system that did not fail; incoming invoices in one tray, outgoing in the other. After they were paid, they were filed in the cabinet. Never did she put invoices in her drawer. They must have been there since before she arrived. Confused and very upset, Jenny put the invoices in her incoming tray. The next morning she would go to Mr. Johnson and tell him what had happened. She put her coat over her shoulders, turned out the lights and headed home. All the way home, Jenny ran the lost invoices over and over in her mind. By the time she arrived she was more angry than confused.
“What on earth is the matter, child?” Abigail could tell that Jenny was upset as soon as she came through the door. “Go into the parlor. Zachariah is here for supper. I will make us a nice cup of tea.”
Normally Jenny would have made fun of Abigail and her “nice cup of tea,” but tonight she was in no mood. She walked into the parlor and plopped in the chair almost sending poor Tom flying off the chair back where he had been sleeping. “Good evening, Zachariah, please don't ask me any questions. I am very angry.” Her forehead was furrowed and she was scowling.
“I can see that. What has you so feargach?” He watched her face, “You can sit and cool off a little, and then tell me what has happened.”
Abigail came into the room with the tea tray, and she and Zachariah exchanged a worried look. She sat beside her brother and they waited for Jenny to speak. It was very obvious that something had happened to her. Meanwhile, Jenny was berating herself for being such a fool.
“I apologize for my mood. I shouldn't take it out on you.” Jenny took several deep breaths, attempting to calm herself. “Let me tell you what happened today.” Jenny proceeded to tell them about the lost invoices and how she had found them. “At first I thought I must have put them there and somehow forgotten about them.” Zachariah and Abigail nodded. They felt very sorry for Jenny because she wa
s obviously very upset.
“It can happen to all of us, Jenny dear. Sometimes we misplace things.”
“That is what I thought at first.” Jenny sipped her tea slowly. “But, that desk was not in Mr. Murphy's office before I came. The mail boy brought it in the morning of my first day. I saw him in the hallway when I arrived and he asked me if I was the new assistant. He told me that he had just delivered my desk. The invoices were dated a month before I arrived, so how could invoices have gotten into the back of the drawer before I was there?”
“Perhaps the invoices were in the pile and you did put them in the drawer by mistake?” Abigail was trying to help, but Jenny just grew angrier.
“Don't you see? I know I did not see those invoices before today. I would never put them into that drawer. I have a very careful system in place, and it has been in place since day one. Someone else put them there to make it look like I had misplaced them.” The two older adults looked at each other in disbelief. It could only have been one person.
“Jenny dear, are you sure?”
Chapter Eight
Harold Mitchell returned to the library every day for a week. Each time he was disappointed, because the object of his search was nowhere to be seen.
He thought about going to Ian Murphy's office, but he and Murphy were not friends, in fact they had been rivals all through school. Many of Harold's young ladies became Ian's conquests. No, he would wait.
Jenny was beside herself. What should she do? Go to Mr. Johnson with the invoices and voice her suspicions? Pay the invoices and say nothing? Bring the matter to Mr. Murphy's attention and tell him what she suspected? Her mind was racing. As the day went by, she worked through the normal volume of work until only the two crumbled invoices remained.
She stared at them, unsure of what to do.
The door to the office opened and Ian Murphy strolled in. He walked to his desk, took his seat, swiveled the chair and proceeded to look out the window. Jenny stared at him. Her anger grew. Finally, she could stand the silence no more. “Mr. Murphy, I have to talk to you.” He ignored her.