“Welcome, Your Grace. Most happy to see you, Sir. Please come into my office,” Mr. Hargrove ushered Thomas inside.
“I am so happy you contacted us, I have been meaning to write you about your financial situation. But I see you are aware of the problem and have come to speak to me about it.”
Mr. Hargrove was a rather handsome and well-kept man for his age of sixty. He was the founder of the bank and dealt exclusively with Thomas’s father before his death.
“My first question for you, Your Grace, is why have you been making so many stock transactions in the past year or so? You had a very stable investment portfolio, but it has deteriorated significantly.”
“That is exactly my point, Mr. Hargrove—I have not been making any transactions at all. And it is only recently that I have become aware of the grave shortfall in our income. And I was led to believe it was because of a failure in our West Indies investments. Is that not the case?”
“I see.” Hargrove examined his ledger quite closely now. “Someone has been creating this activity. Do you have any idea… Oh, wait a minute, I think I understand. Prior to your coming of age, your Uncle Mowbray was your guardian, was he not?”
“That is correct.”
“Well, it seems he was never removed as the executor of these accounts. The only thing that makes any sense is that he has continued to act on your behalf. Might that be the case?”
Thomas was ashamed to admit it was so. “Well… I have been rather lax in my duties to the estate and I remember Uncle saying he was continuing to look after the accounts for me until I was ready to take charge.”
“But you came of age many years ago. Do you mean to say you have not taken charge until now?” Mr. Hargrove said with a certain amount of censure in his voice.
“I have not, and I have only myself to blame for that oversight. I found my freedom as the new Duke was heady, and I enjoyed the privileges over the responsibilities.”
“I see,” Mr. Hargrove said, adjusting his pince-nez and closing the ledger. “Then I trust you will be setting things straight quite soon?”
“And we can start immediately by removing all account privileges from my Uncle. He is not to have access to any of my business from here on out—effective immediately.”
“Most wise. And you might consider taking a look at your investment portfolio and getting it in order.”
“I intend to. Thank you for your time, Mr. Hargrove.”
“Please let me know how I can assist you further should the need arise,” he said standing.
Thomas’s next appointment was with the bank where his grandmother had her account. She had asked him to fetch some trust documents for her and to ask for the most recent balance statement on her account.
Thomas’s mind was on his own financial situation when he arrived at her bank. He went to the manager’s office and requested an interview and was promptly shown into his office.
“Andrew Burk, at your service, Your Grace. And how may I help you today?” the short man with an imposing mustache asked.
“I am here for my grandmother, Augusta Mowbray. She wishes me to fetch some documents for her and she wishes a copy of her most recent account statement.”
“Of course. Are you a signer on her account?”
“I am.”
Mr. Burk went to his shelf and pulled out a large master ledger.
“One moment please.” He examined the book and, found what he was looking for, looked up at Thomas, appearing to be puzzled.
“I have found the account, but is your grandmother aware that her balance is almost depleted?”
Thomas was so shocked he stood up. “How can that be?”
Mr. Burk studied the entries. “Yes, six months ago her balance was well over fifteen thousand pounds.” He studied the entries more closely. “And today the balance is just a little over five hundred pounds.”
“How can that be? She barely uses any of her money as her basic needs are provided for by my estate.”
“Have you been making any withdrawals for her?”
“None whatsoever,” Thomas insisted.
“Ah… I see you are not the only other signer on her account. It seems her son, the Earl of Denham, also has access to her account.”
“This is outrageous,” Thomas said to himself. He took up his hat and prepared to leave when he remembered he still needed the trust papers.
“Mr. Burk, I think I understand the situation now. If you would be so kind as to fetch these documents for me, I shall begin to take care of this matter immediately.” He handed him a list of the documents required.
“I assume I am unable to remove the Earl of Denham’s name from her account?” Thomas asked.
“That is correct. It is your grandmother who must request the removal of his name as a signer on her account.”
“Then if you will prepare those papers for me, as well, I shall take them to her for her signature,” Thomas said with resolution.
Thomas did not know if his uncle was in town or not, but he went directly to his uncle’s house, was admitted by the butler and taken to the drawing room.
“I shall let his Lordship know you wish to see him,” the butler said and left.
While he waited, Thomas studied the room. He had been here many times before but had never had the opportunity to study the room. Now Thomas was not particularly knowledgeable about furnishing a house, but he did believe he could tell good taste from poor. His uncle’s furnishings were garish with colors that did not match—yellow draperies with an overabundance of red cording, tassels and fringe—green and purple upholstered chairs, paintings with monstrously baroque gilded frames and an almost obscene tapestry of nude maidens dancing in a forest glen with a number of attending satyrs. Thomas could not help but give an involuntary shudder.
“Nephew, I did not know you were to be in town. Might I get you a whiskey?” he asked heading directly over to his sideboard where he poured himself a drink.
“Uncle it is not even noon yet. Far too early for me.”
“Please sit. Might you stay for lunch? If so, I must alert cook.”
“Not today. I am here on rather serious business and I need your full attention,” Thomas said rather sternly.
“Oh, how ominous sounding. There is not something wrong with Mother, is there?” Wilcox asked, and sat opposite Thomas.
“Her health is fine, but I am afraid her bank account is not.” Thomas let that statement hang in the air for a moment and watched carefully for his uncle’s reaction.
Wilcox sat back in his chair. “Ah…”
“Nothing more to say?” Thomas asked.
“I take it you have been looking at the bank accounts,” he quietly said.
“I have. And imagine my astonishment when I saw the balances of not only the estate’s account but Grandmamma’s account as well. I need to know what you know about these matters.”
“And why should I know anything?” Wilcox asked with no hint of guilt.
“Because I have evidence that you were buying and selling stocks from my account and you were a signer on your mother’s account and there was a lot of activity that drained her account of nearly fifteen thousand pounds. There is no one else who had access.”
His uncle shrugged. “Well, you had access to both accounts I believe. How do I know that you did not take advantage of that access?”
“Oh, Uncle, how stupid do you think I am? First, you admitted to me only recently that you had been continuing to manage the estate account because you rightly accused me of neglecting my duty to the estate. I certainly acknowledge my fault in that, but I have proof that there was a substantial amount of activity on that account and large sums of the capital have disappeared.”
“I see…”
“And as for your mother’s account, her balance of fifteen thousand has dwindled during the last six months to only about five hundred. I know I have not made any withdrawals. And I know for certain she has not either. So, Uncle, you tell
me who else it could be but you?”
Wilcox got up without saying anything and went to pour himself another drink before turning back to face Thomas.
“So… I have been found out. I knew it was only a matter of time. Now what is to be done, that is the question, is it not?”
Thomas stood, “Yes, it is. So, you admit taking the money?”
“I had no choice. I have had a few money problems lately,” he said with seemingly no remorse. “And since we are all family, I assumed…”
“So, you just take it from your mother and me?”
“You were inattentive and mother… well, she would leave it to me eventually anyway. I saw no harm?”
“Did you ever think to ask her for the money, or did you just take it without her knowledge?”
“I was in rather a hurry, you see. I had some investments that went bad, and when that started, I tried winning at cards. A rather risky solution, I know. And after losing more than winning, I borrowed some money from unconventional sources. And when that money became due and I couldn’t pay, I began to be threatened by… some unsavory fellows. Well, one thing led to another and, before I knew it, I was in so deep I had no other choice. It was literally a matter of life and death, you see.”
“And have you cleared your debts with our money?”
“Some of them.”
“You mean there are still more?”
Wilcox shrugged. “A few.”
Thomas folded his arms, turned away, and began to pace. “And what do you suggest be done, Uncle? You have drained your mother’s savings and nearly bankrupted my estate.” He turned back to his uncle. “And I suppose you have no prospects—either for yourself or any way to make this right to your mother and me?”
“As a matter of fact, Nephew, there might be a way.”
“I am eager to hear.”
“We have spoken about this matter before. A marriage to the perfect young heiress would be most beneficial for the entire family. It could solve all of our problems and make all matters right.”
“And you have a prospect? You found such an heiress willing to marry you at your age?”
Uncle laughed. “Oh, Thomas, the marriage is not for me. It is for you.”
Thomas was now furious. “I told you already, I do not intend to marry Helena. She wishes to marry George Edgerton, and she and I have no intention of marrying each other.”
“Well, you asked for a solution. I am suggesting one,” Uncle said as he poured himself yet another drink.
Thomas glared at his uncle. “I believe I should take legal action against you. This house, your estate, and your other assets would at least be able to pay your mother back from what you have stolen.”
Uncle took a leisurely sip of his whiskey and began to tour his drawing room. “Nephew, do you not think I have already mortgaged every asset I own to the hilt? All you would accomplish is to drag the family name into the mud, but with no financial reward. I have nothing, and I am certain you must understand that. And think how that would affect mother? It might make her ill—or worse.” He turned and glanced askance at Thomas.
“You are the most irreparable scoundrel, Uncle.”
“Yes, I suppose I am, but there you have it.”
Thomas was at a loss for words. It appeared he was at a dead end with his uncle.
Uncle then smiled and said, “Now then, let us discuss some lovely eligible young ladies, I know about, who would make the most perfect Duchess of Pemberton.”
Chapter 10
Claudia appeared at Jenny’s door. She stood quietly and waited for Jenny to notice her.
“Oh, how long have you been standing there?” Jenny asked as she turned from putting away her laundry and seeing Claudia. She wound a ribbon around her hand, then put it in her ribbon box.
“Not long,” Claudia said shyly.
“What?” Jenny asked. “Did you want to ask me something?”
Claudia took a step farther into the room. “I wanted to ask you about the dress the Duke gave you?”
“Very well. What do you wish to know?”
Again, Claudia became hesitant. “I was wondering if I might borrow it the evening Jeremiah comes for dinner. It is such a lovely dress and I…”
“Try it on. Let us see if it fits you?” But Jenny had reservations. Claudia was so thin after her spurt of growth, and she did not see how it would work.
“May I?” Claudia asked eagerly as she went over to the armoire and took out the dress the Duke gave her and held it up for examination.
“It is so lovely…”
Jenny took the dress and prepared to help Claudia into it. “Go ahead. Try it on,”
Claudia shed her housedress and let Jenny slip the dress over her head. But as soon as it settled on her, it was apparent it was much too large. Claudia looked like a child trying on her mother’s clothes. And it was clear she was disappointed.
“Maybe I have something else,” Jenny suggested. “We certainly do want you to look your best for Jeremiah.”
Claudia quickly removed the dress, letting it fall to the floor, went directly to the armoire, and began looking through Jenny’s dresses.
“What about this one,” she asked, holding up one of Jenny’s Sunday best dresses.
“That is nice, but that too will be too big for you. Here, let me look at some of my older dresses that I have outgrown.”
Jenny began looking at the far side of the armoire where she had relegated her older clothes.
“Ah, what about this one? I think it might fit?” She held up a sunny yellow dress with white flowers.
Claudia made a face. “Is that not too much of a morning dress? I think it not suitable as evening wear.”
Jenny nodded. “Quite right.” She went looking again and finding another took it out. “What about this?”
It was a slim beige dress with small white dots in an attractive pattern. “You could wear this with your camel shawl and it would be very dressy.”
“I like that,” Claudia said, becoming enthusiastic. “Let me try it on.”
It fit perfectly, and it made her look almost like a grown woman. Jenny went over to her, took her hair and arranged it around her head in such a way that it made her look even more mature.
“Do you like that?”
“Oh, yes, Jenny. Will you do my hair for me on the evening?”
“Of course.”
“May I take the dress with me now?”
“You may.”
Claudia turned to leave but stopped at the door and said, “Please do not wear the Duke’s dress on the evening. I cannot have you looking even better than me,” she said giggling.
“I promise you shall be the star of the evening, my dear sister.”
Susan Barnett was beyond excited as she, Jenny, and Claudia worked all afternoon preparing dinner. To think, two of her daughters were having young men as guests to dinner. It had only recently been announced that Jenny was to bring her new friend, Evan, to dinner as well as Claudia’s Jeremiah.
The young Robert had been assigned the job of peeling potatoes and the youngest sister, Sally, was carefully slicing scallions. Mother was basting the lamb roast and Jenny was in charge of making the layered, jellied desert which she was now packing in ice to make it set. Claudia was trimming Brussels sprouts and placing them in a pan of water.
“And who is this young man, Evan?” Mother asked as she slipped the roast toward the back of the wood-fired oven.
“A son of one of the farmers who provide the fruit for my pies,” Jenny said, turning the jelly mold in the bucket of ice.
“Is it serious?” she asked, not wanting to intrude too much in her independent daughter’s life.
“Oh, Mother, I have no idea. I just wanted him to meet the family. Please do not read too much into it.”
Mother now knew to keep her mouth shut.
“I am done with the scallions, Mama,” Sally said. “What can I do now?”
“Hmm. Let me think. Why no
t start setting the table. And use the good china and the little salt and pepper bowls with the silver spoons—ever so much more elegant than shakers.”
Sally scooted off.
Claudia turned to Jenny and said, “You promised to do my hair, remember.”
“I do. But you will need to dress first and then come to my room, and I will make you look like a princess.”
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