Page 39 of The Ambiguous Enigma of the Hunted Lady
“There has been a claim?” Kenneth sat up, suddenly interested. It had been over six months since a claim had been filed. While it was good that few were reported, for a claim only surfaced if a ship was lost, Kenneth took great excitement in processing the claims when they did appear.
There was a story in each one, some drag of excitement from the far side of the world; it was material he fed upon to sustain his overly-active and ambitious imagination.
“There has.” Cornelius finished sorting the rest of the documents on his desk. “A merchantman that went down 'round the horn.”
“Who did she belong to?”
“Who do you think?”
“The East India Company, then.”
“Correct.” Cornelius let out a sigh as he pushed his pencils into their proper place. “If there is one company I truly detest giving money to, it is the largest of them.”
“They are our largest customer.” Kenneth pointed out.
“And our largest expense.” Cornelius shook his head. “In the past three years, they have claimed six, now seven, ships stove in a storm. And while it is true that their payments comprise some forty percent of our income, it is also true that they have exacted over eighty percent of our reimbursement budget.”
“Are we low on funds?” Kenneth asked, worriedly. He seldom thought of money, but he always assumed there would be more than enough. It was the way his life had always been.
“No, not even near to dished up.” Cornelius waved his hand. “But I could see how we might become so if they continue to lose their silk ships in this manner.”
“So, you would have us deny the claim? That seems unfair.”
“No, no.” Cornelius cautioned. “Never may we judge a case before hearing it. I am only complaining, never mind me. The hearing will be here at two o'clock.”
“Very well.” Kenneth said, rising. “I will see you then.”
“Off for a meal?”
“Or at least a pint.”
“Try the new ale house, two doors down from Hatchard's.”
“The bookseller?”
“Yes, two doors down, there's a lovely new ale house, the Ten Drums, I think it is.”
“Ten Drums, alright then.” The Duke bobbed a friendly goodbye to his Uncle, as was only polite, and did the same to Thompson as he skipped out the stairs.
“Daniel, make use of your own time.” Kenneth said to his manservant, who would gladly attend to his own business in London rather than watch Kenneth eat and drink.
“Of course, Your Grace, when shall I return?”
“I shall meet you after the hearing.”
“Very good, Your Grace.” and he was off into the city.
The Duke walked around the corner onto Piccadilly, and soon located the Ten Drums. He was pleasantly surprised by the cozy interior; the new alehouse had been furnished to accommodate the wealthy gentlemen of London in all their decadence, yet the lighting was shallow and warm. All told, the space was very pleasing and comfortable, and Kenneth enjoyed a pint of ale along with a roasted hen.
Just as he was beginning to feel completely content, his comfort was uprooted by the voice of the Marquess of Winchester.
“Worthington,” he announced, pulling over the seat across from Kenneth. “I did not think to see you in London so soon.”
“And why is that, my good Marquess?” Kenneth sat back, pushing aside his plate. The Marquess irritated him, and his words gave Kenneth plenty of indication concerning what he wished to discuss.
“Well, on account of the commotion last week, of course.” the Marquess huffed, gesturing for a pint of ale.
“I am afraid I do not know what you mean.” the Duke said with a low tone. He did not wish to talk to this man, much less about Leah.
