Page 56 of His Wife, the Spy
The cook and the housekeeper stood on opposing sides of the table, but their duel stuttered to a stop as Annabel entered the kitchen. “What seems to be the trouble?”
The housekeeper shot a shaking finger at her opponent. “She has accused me of skimping on the food budget and pocketing the difference.”
“I never said you’d pocketed the difference, but youhavebeen skimping on the budget.” Cook lifted a limp, spotted bunch of greens. “I wouldn’t feed these to hogs.”
“They weren’t spotted when I put them in the larder. You shouldn’t have kept them for so long.”
“They were wilted when the grocer brought them,” Cook shouted. “Not to mention the berries. Flats of them that went soft within two days.”
Annabel remembered the berries. They’d been served with every meal during her first week in the house. Jasper had grumbled that his hair was changing color.
“You have the purse and the key to the larder, and I have to make do with what you bring me.” Mrs. Elliot shook the greens to punctuate her sentence, and one ruined leaf landed on the floor with a sickening slap.
Annabel bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, though it was difficult when Stapleton coughed to hide his laughter. It would be easy to fall back on her experience with Jasper as a generous husband, to suspect the housekeeper of skimming. Except for the tears shining in her eyes and what Annabel remembered from the old marquess’s journals in the Kennet Hall library.
“Mrs. Elliot, please make an inventory of the larder. Mrs. Wright, please gather your records and bring them to his lordship’s office.” She nodded to the butler. “Come with me, Stapleton.”
They returned upstairs, and Annabel led the way to Jasper’s study. “Where does Lord Ramsbury keep his ledgers?”
“Your ladyship, I’m not certain—”
She wasn’t either. “I am certain that his lordship would prefer his marchioness handle matters of the household so he can focus on matters in Parliament.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he pulled a key from his pocket and opened the bottom desk drawer. It housed nothing but a heavy red leather ledger identical to the ones in Wiltshire. Annabel lifted it to the desk and flipped to the most recent pages, careful not to topple the pile of unopened correspondence on the corner of the desk.
Mrs. Wright joined them with her records, which she surrendered to Annabel.
Annabel ran her finger down the entries, made in Jasper’s hand, until she found the latest amounts for the kitchen.
“His lordship has marked down thirty pounds for food this month. Up from twenty, which is to be expected with our marriage and the expectations of the Season.” It was also plenty to provide fresh, prime food.
“Thirty pounds?” The housekeeper dropped into the nearest chair. “My lady, I was given twenty. And on the months he had allotted twenty, I was lucky to get fifteen. I give you my word.”
“And I trust that word, Mrs. Wright. Leave it to me to decipher.” Annabel gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “His lordship and I will resolve this matter when he returns home this evening.”
If he returned home while she was awake.
“Thank you, your ladyship.” Mrs. Wright left in a whisper of skirts, her back straight and her shoulders square.
Once alone, Annabel swept back to the beginning of the ledger, looking for the point when Jasper had inherited. His stark, straight figures were easy to decipher. The strokesreminded her of her husband himself, and it doubled her focus. Jasper’s open manner often masked something he wanted to hide.
The only new expense was a regular payment to Kit Yarwood—not much more than Stapleton’s salary. Annabel had thought he and Jasper were merely friends, but who paid their friends a salary?
Stapleton cleared his throat. “I don’t believe Mrs. Wright to be a thief.”
“Neither do I, but I want the evidence to submit to his lordship.” Annabel reviewed the housekeeper’s ledger and receipts, noting the dates and amounts. Always five to ten pounds less than the amounts in the ledger, but always exact. “Do you have receipts for other expenses?
“Yes, your ladyship.” Stapleton left, only to return with a ledger of his own.
They worked together then, comparing the amounts spent on the household to the amounts in Jasper’s ledgers. The shortages were obvious. “There is no reason for him to steal from himself,” she whispered.
He also couldn’t finance a rebellion on twenty pounds a month.
“Does his lordship give you the funds directly, Stapleton?”
“I do not. My man of business manages payments.” Jasper dropped his coat on the chair nearest the door. His waistcoat had a wide patch of gold splayed across it like a flag. “But I would like to know why my wife is reviewing my finances.”
Chapter Thirteen
