They’d reached the Exchequer office. Jocelyn tried the latch and sighed as it gave under her hand. “Her Highness should really be more suspicious of insiders.”
“I’ll tell Jasper to let her know,” Annabel quipped. It was easier to do this if she didn’t take it too seriously.
The outer office was almost the length of a dining room, crowded with desks and closed cabinets. A tray of neatly stacked pages was squared into the corner of each desk. Pens lay in their rests aligned in front of black glass ink pots.
Annabel’s faith in her plan wavered. This was not an office that was designed to conceal theft. These weren’t men who worked in shadows.
Jocelyn led her to the back, to a room dominated by a desk almost the size of Jasper’s bed. Ledges lined the shelves behind it. She pulled a candle from her pocket and lit it with a match from the jar on the desk. “The guards will be by soon. I’ll watch the door.”
Annabel nodded, already focused on the gold letters on each ledger’s spine.
She pulled her list of Circle members from her pocket and smoothed it out on the desk. After that, she wrestled the first giant ledger free and laid it open on the desk. She had hoped for alphabetical records, but instead she found numerical. Thank goodness Drake had asked for dates as well as amounts.
“What made you think he would have these in his office?” She sorted her list into date order.
Jocelyn was keeping an eye on the outside office. “No one would keep theft in plain view.”
“My father did.” Annabel used Graydon’s pen and ink to write the first figures on her list, halfway down the Circle members.
“Your father was hiding from his wife, not the queen.” Jocelyn straightened. “Hush.”
Annabel knelt and used her body to shield the glow from the candle. The weight of this mission hit home. She and Jocelyn had sneaked into the queen’s former home, even if just for a moment. They were now in a courtier’s office, using his things.
After a moment, Jocelyn relaxed. “They’re gone. Keep going.”
We need out of here without delay. “Come help.” Annabel pulled the second ledger from its place on the shelf and turned it to the middle. “April should be here. Check the dates and estimate two months per book.”
From that point forward, Jocelyn found ledgers and Annabel searched for entries. Each stroke of the pen was messier than the last. She hoped she could read it when she got home. “Finished.”
Annabel capped the ink and then cleaned the pen using her shirt sleeve. She put it back on its rest, just like the others she’d seen. By the time she’d finished, the ink had dried on her list.
“Ready?” It was a rhetorical question. Jocelyn was already at the door.
*
Jasper stretched the length of the sofa and used the rolled arm as a pillow. It was a poor substitute, but it allowed him to see Annabel at his desk, where she’d been since she’d returned from the Exchequer office.
The oil lamp created an island of light with her at the center, the black night creating a frame, head bent over a blank ledger sheet as she compared the figures she’d stolen to the ones she’d been given. She also had the totals the prime minister had given to him and Kit, and another book she’d retrieved from her library at Ramsbury House.
A plate of uneaten biscuits sat at her elbow. “Are you going to eat at all?” Jasper asked.
“Are you going to sleep?” she countered. “It’s late, and you had an eventful day.”
It had been both impressive and terrifying to watch Fletcher break into Spencer’s home, to see him blend into the shadows and emerge victorious with what seemed to be alarming speed. No wonder Kit roamed the house at all hours, checking the doors and windows. “So did you.”
Annabel looked up from her work. She was still in her trousers, and she had ink on her nose.
If anything had happened to her, he’d have had Fletcher’s head mounted on the wall. No matter how much he liked the man.
A yawn stretched his mouth as his eyelids drooped. Fighting exhaustion, he rose from the couch and went to the desk.
“Don’t distract me,” she mumbled. “I almost have this worked out.”
He lifted a biscuit from the plate and broke it in half. The pages spread before her were lists after lists of numbers, calculations, and totals. His eyes crossed. He pulled a chair near her and handed her half the biscuit. “What are you doing?”
“In a moment,” Annabel said as she chewed. She trailed the fingers of one hand down the column on her sheet and the other down the list Fletcher had copied from Spencer, checking her work. A census book lay open at her elbow. The cap that had been part of her disguise peeked from underneath.
“How did you come across a census book?” he asked as he offered another treat.
She took it. “Father bought one from a library that received two. I always liked seeing Chilworth on the list. It made us part of something larger than ourselves.”
She drummed her fingers on the desk as she stared at her work, reminding him of hoofbeats in a race. Finally, she nodded. Hesitantly at first, then with more certainty.
“You have it?” He sat straighter, staring again at the inked figures. “How?”
“The difference between our friends’ receipts and the number in the ledgers is one percent from each, which makes sense. It is easier to keep track of a single calculation. But it’s also more difficult to explain away as an error.”
She pointed to a total. “This is how much they paid.” To another. “This is what the ledger says they paid.”
It was a large amount, but from a damned small sample. “What does this prove?”
“It gives us a basis for an estimate. Taxes are only assessed on those with an income over one hundred and fifty pounds per year. That’s not going to be a large number of people in agricultural counties.” She indicated one list. “I took only twenty-five percent of their population at the minimum income threshold. Three percent taxes, multiplied by one percent.”
It was a halfpence for each. “That’s not a large amount.”
“It is when you add them all together.” She pointed at a second total. “And then for counties with industry, ports, or other trade—like Bath. I’ve estimated half the population would pay taxes to equal this.” She indicated a third sum.
London was its own category. She had increased the estimate to sixty percent of the population at the same halfpence.
