The Steward of Blackwood Hall

Chapter three - A friend in need

"The young lady is gone, sir."

This was not news to Fielding, who had observed the gig from the window until it passed beyond sight. Glancing towards the youthful footman who hovered in the doorway, he said, "Where is the housekeeper?"

"Mrs North is still upstairs, sortin' the linens."

He sat down, laying his hand upon the worn wood of the old desk. "In that case I don't think we need to concern her with tales of unexpected visitors. Do you understand, James?"

"Joseph, sir, and no...I mean yes, sir."

"Be sure to pass the message to the stable hands, and anyone else that might have seen Miss Latimer here. You can bear witness that her visit was a matter of urgent estate business, but it would be easy for people to...misinterpret the situation."

"I'll tell 'em, sir. She was never 'ere."

"Very good. You may go." Fielding picked up a random document from the desk and focussed his attention upon it. Once the door closed he let the sheet slip through his fingers as his gaze returned to the empty chair opposite.

From the moment his father had first taken him into society, females had been throwing their handkerchiefs at him. Since he inherited his family's estate in Yorkshire, and the impressive fortune that went with it, they had progressed to throwing themselves instead. But during the past six years none had broken the rules of propriety so blatantly as to attempt to visit him alone, in daylight, and without friend or chaperone.

How had she known he was working in the steward's office, and why had she not gone to the front door to request assistance from Mountford himself? By agreeing to meet her he had placed himself in a difficult position. If she'd been of a mind, a single scream and some wild accusations might have seen him trapped into an uncomfortable marriage. Fortunately he was too clever to be snared by such paltry tactics, and the presence of the footman had been sufficient to satisfy propriety.

The door flew back on its hinges as Mountford blew in like a coastal storm, distracting Fielding from his suspicions. Henry checked his stride as he took in the disarray. "I was going to ask how much longer you would be, but from the condition of the room I already have my answer. When you offered to help inspect Blackwood's estate records I had no expectation that you meant taking the office apart."

Fielding leaned back, waving a hand towards the pile of financial ledgers. "Burgin had been stealing from your uncle for many years. Even a cursory inspection of the accounts reveals discrepancies. I can only suggest in the strongest terms that you report the thefts to the local magistrate."

His friend ran a flustered hand through his artfully dishevelled curls. "What good will that do? The rascal is likely across the other side of the country by now. We'll never find him."

"I don't expect you will, but it sends a strong message to your staff, tenants and neighbours that you are a landowner of decisive nature, and intolerant of dishonesty."

Mountford shrugged. "If that is what you suggest, I will be guided by your experience in these matters, although it hardly seems worth the effort." He made a cursory survey of the papers stacked on the shelf, before pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the dust from his hands. "I thought we had come here to enjoy ourselves. You are meant to be my guest, not sitting down here playing steward. Will your investigations take much longer? 

"It will take as long as necessary. You have a library now; read a book."

"Uncle George's library consists of five and sixty encyclopaedias, directories, dictionaries and court records. Not one single rousing adventure or gothic novel; not even a romance to pass the hours. It has been sadly neglected."