Page 19 of Reforming Lord Ragsdale
Her back still to her employer, Emma edged toward the door. “I am quite serious, my lord. If I am to be your secretary too, I had better learn the business from a master.”
She heard the rustle of material, and Lord Ragsdale stood before her in his robe, water streaming down his face, soap still in his hair. His dead eye didn’t even make her flinch. She had seen so much worse in the last few years.
Well now, she thought.I am one step closer to far away from this place.She regarded the angry man before her and felt the tiniest bit of sympathy. She knew it would pass.
“I promise not to cheat you, but I will reform you. After luncheon then, Lord Ragsdale?”
“I wouldn’t follow you across the street, you presumptuous parcel of Irish baggage.”
“Oooh, sticks and stones, my lord,” she replied. “Then I’ll go by myself. If you want anything, once you have dried and dressed, I will be in your book room, sorting out your bills.”
“You can’t do this!” he shouted, shaking his finger at her.
“Watch me.”
Chapter 7
Emma spent the restof the morning in the book room, sorting through the clutter of bills, many of them unopened, that resided in dusty piles on the desk. As she arranged them chronologically, oldest first, she found herself wondering how Lord Ragsdale had managed to keephimselfout of Newgate.Does this man ever pay a bill?she thought as she frowned over requests for payment from liquor wholesalers, procurers of livestock feed, and mantua makers.
Mantua makers?She scrutinized the bill at arm’s length and then remembered that Lady Whiteacre in Oxford had mentioned a mistress.Well, at least she’s stylish, Emma thought as she created a separate pile for bills from modistes, milliners, cobblers, and sellers of silk stockings and perfumes.I had a pair of silk stockings once, she thought as she picked up the bill.I will not think about that.
But she did think about it, leaning back in the chair as she sniffed at the faintly scented paper.I wonder who is living in our house now, she thought.I hope they have not made too many changes. Mama had such exquisite taste.
“Now, Emma, you know you cannot think about her,” she said out loud and put down the paper. She knew she had to think of something else, so she concentrated on the house again. The china was gone, of course. The last soundshe remembered as they were dragged from the front door was the crash and tinkle of china as the soldiers rampaged through.
Ah, well, the view is still the same, she reminded herself.Even British soldiers cannot move the Wicklow Mountains.She closed her eyes, thinking of the green loveliness of it all and knowing that she would never see her home again. True, Virginia had been a reasonable substitute, and she knew that she could return there with some peace of mind when this onerous indenture was fulfilled. Emma rested her chin on her hand. Springs could be soft there, with redbud, flowering dogwood, and azalea, but she knew in her heart that there would never be the shades of green from home, no matter how hard Virginia tried.
And so I must forget, she thought and picked up another stack of bills.There is an Englishman here who should keep me sufficiently occupied. He is utterly without merit and ought to occupy my mind to such a degree that I do not have time to remember.
“Seriously, Hanley, howdoesLord Ragsdale keep himself from debtor’s prison?” she asked the footman, who stuck his head in the room an hour later to see how she did. She indicated the neat piles on the desk and in her lap. “He hasn’t paid a bill in at least three months. I can’t find any posting books with accounts. Do you know where they would be kept?”
The footman looked around at the order she was creating out of catastrophe, his eyes appreciative. “Gor, miss, there’s wood on that desk after all!” he joked.
Emma smiled and indicated a chair beside the desk. “What is his secret, Hanley?”
“Simple, miss. He’s richer than Croesus, and all these tradespeople know that he will pay eventually. If they get tired of waiting, they petition his banker.”
“I call that a pretty ramshackle way to live,” Emma grumbled.
The footman shrugged. “If you or I were to forget a bill, now that would not be a pretty sight.”
Emma nodded in agreement. “Too true.” She placed her hands down on the desk. “Hanley, how did you manage with Lord Ragsdale?”
“Oh, he cleaned up pretty well after you left, miss.” The footman laughed. “I think he’s not your best friend, though.”
Emma shook her head. “And he never will be! I suppose that radical reformation must always exact its own price.” She changed the subject. “Hanley, do you know how to get to Newgate Prison from here?”
“Gor, miss, you can’t be thinking of going there onpurpose?” the footman demanded. “I won’t tell you!”
She was about to reply when she noticed he was staring at her left hand. She put her hand in her lap, coloring slightly. “I have to, Hanley,” she explained, hoping he would not ask any questions. “David Breedlow—I believe that is his name—is imprisoned there awaiting transportation, and I need to know something about Lord Ragsdale’s account books, if I am to acquit myself as his secretary.”
Hanley’s eyes opened wide at that piece of information.
“You’regoing to be the master’s new secretary? I never heard of such a thing!”
Emma blushed again. “It’s part of my indenture agreement, and you needn’t frown about it. Do you know who Lord Ragsdale banks with, or the name and direction of his solicitor? I need to speak to someone about his accounts.”
The footman stood up, tugging at his waistcoat. “I wouldn’t know, miss.”
