Henry’s chair creaked and she dared to look up at him. He sat stiffly in his chair, the interest in his eyes remained, but the warmth had gone. A shiver chased up her spine. She had insulted him, just as she feared she would. It was best to surge ahead so it could all be quickly resolved. ‘I have just started examining them—’

‘Why?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why are you examining my accounts?’

Grace hesitated. Had she said the word ‘examining’?

‘I—’

‘The accounts are confidential.’

‘I offered to keep on top of things. You were injured. You are injured. Someone had to do it.’

An uneasy silence descended as Henry considered her explanation. He drank deeply from his glass, before carefully placing it next to the smaller bottle. Grace read the label. It was laudanum and went some way to reassuring her that the uneasy silence was as a result of drug induced thinking rather than Talek’s request for her to take over the books.

Yet she remained uneasy. For the first time she felt as if she was taking part in a game, where the rules and ultimate goal were unknown to her. Her concern must have shown on her face as Henry suddenly smiled.

‘Well there is no need. I am much improved and can do the accounts from now on.’

Grace knew she was in no position to refuse him. He was one of the owners after all. Yet Talek had asked for her assistance and in giving it up now she felt as if she would be somehow letting him down. Her fingers tightened around the parcel on her lap.

‘Laudanum is not a medicine suitable for clear thinking and figures.’ Her reply sounded harsh, even to her own ears. She tried to soften it somewhat. ‘Talek accepted my offer of help. He did not want you to return from your forced respite and face a mountain of paperwork. Besides, bills must be paid and invoices sent out.’

‘You are absolutely right.’

Grace stared at him, surprised he was agreeing with her.

Henry smiled. ‘Forgive me if I came across a little short with you. Being injured makes one rather dependent, which is not a pleasant experience.’ He picked up the small bottle and lifted it to the light. The brown bottle absorbed the sunlight attempting to pass through it. ‘You are right about the laudanum. I’ve been rather melancholy these past few days and returning to work may provide the tonic I need.’ To her surprise, he removed the cork and tipped it into a potted plant by his side.

‘Is that wise?’ Grace asked, concerned.

‘Probably not, but it is done.’ He smiled broadly. ‘And I already feel the better for it. Leave the ledger here and I’ll see to the accounts from now on. As for the lime, it was made into whitewash to paint the miners’ cottages. It was an oversight, but it can be easily remedied. There is nothing to get worked up about. We deal with thousands of pounds in trade every year. Ten sacks of unaccounted lime are neither here nor there. You do not need to worry your pretty head about such things. Figures are best suited to a male mind, Grace. Go home and amuse Amelia. She is the one who needs you the most.’

‘You wish me to leave?’

‘No, but as you can see,’ he swept a hand over his body, ‘I wasn’t prepared for your visit and feel at a disadvantage.’

Grace’s confidence in her decision to visit him drained away with the sweep of his hand. She had forced her company upon him. At best her behaviour was impolite, at worst, it was intrusive. She nodded in agreement and Henry called for a servant, who quickly arrived. Grace hastily stood.

‘As always, it was a joy to see you, Grace. I’m sorry that I have not been a better host to you.’

‘It was my fault. I came unannounced.’

‘No warning is needed amongst friends. Goodbye, Grace and tell Talek and Amelia that you have found me well.’

‘Goodbye, Henry. I hope your recovery is speedy.’ She turned awkwardly and followed the servant out into the hall. Henry’s voice followed her.

‘Leave the ledger in the hall, Grace. I’ll look at it tomorrow.’

Reluctantly, Grace placed the heavy book on the polished table by the wall. She felt oddly unfulfilled as she obediently followed the servant to the door. The deep, shadowed doorway blotted out the sun and sent a shiver through her, yet she was unable to take that extra step to walk outside. The servant waited silently beside her, her head bowed.

Subservient, unchallenging and invisible. Was this her role too? Talek had asked for her help and she had spent her time seeing problems when in truth there were none to be found. Yet, she had found two discrepancies now, if she included the wages. What if there were more? She felt she was in the midst of a puzzle that begged to be solved. Talek had placed his trust in her to see to his books. To leave things as they were, unfinished with no answers to her questions, was not such an easy thing for her to do.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Grace spun on her heel, retraced her steps and seized the ledger from the hall table. She strode out of the house and did not look back until she had boarded the waiting carriage and was riding away. She turned to search for Henry at the drawing room’s window, but he was not there. A movement in the window above caught her attention. It was a young woman; her appearance was fleeting, as she quickly withdrew behind the thick heavy curtain. Henry may not have watched her leave, but his cousin had and, strangely, her presence unnerved Grace more than she cared to admit.

Chapter Thirteen

Grace drew up her knees and rested her forehead in the cradle of her arms. She had feigned a headache and retired to bed early, but in truth she needed the silence of her bedroom to reflect on the events of the day.

She had spent the day in the St Austell office, studying the accounts of the previous six months. It had started out as a task to reassure herself that nothing further was amiss. When she found it was all above board, she would happily return the ledgers to Henry and tell Talek he had requested them. Her help would be no longer needed.

At first she had found nothing. Relieved, she had sat back in her chair. Her gaze had wandered absently over the neatly scribed figures in front of her, before settling on a mark, so slight, that she had initially overlooked it. Thinking it was a fallen eyelash, she had attempted to brush it away only to find it did not move. A sense of unease had stirred inside her as she turned the page and saw another, both barely noticeable to the undiscerning eye. Once she’d noticed one, they began to jump out at her, growing like thistles on a manicured lawn. What did the mark mean or was she seeing problems where none really existed?

Grace tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling of her bedroom, looking for inspiration. She felt exhausted. The day had been fraught with discoveries as the strange mark was not the last one she had found. On her return, Tommy was waiting for her. He stepped out to halt her carriage before it entered the drive to Roseland.

‘Begging your pardon, miss,’ he said, appearing at the window. ‘I’ve found out what the lime was for. It was made into whitewash.’

The lime used to paint miners’ cottages seemed the least of her worries at the moment, but Tommy had scrubbed himself clean, put on his best clothes and seemed to have more to tell her, so she felt duty bound to listen.

‘Would you like to know where it was used?’

‘Miners’ cottages?’

Tommy shook his head, ‘No, on the walls of Stenna Pit.’

Grace frowned. It seemed a strange thing to do. ‘Why would they do that?’

Tommy had only shrugged. ‘I don’t know and the miners who were given the job probably don’t either. Only a foolish man questions their boss.’

Now, in the solitude of her bedroom, she wondered if Tommy had been trying to warn her in some way. She quickly pushed the thought to one side. He was a simple man who spoke plainly and would not hide the threat behind an indirect phrase. Tommy didn’t know how many miners were involved, but Grace had an idea. The same number who had not been paid for their extra shifts as those shifts had been kept secret and not recorded.

Grace sighed and rested her forehead on her knees again. She had no experience of the production of clay, perhaps painting the walls of a clay pit was part of the process? No, it couldn’t be or Tommy would have said. Which left only one reason — to convince the pottery representative that the clay was a higher quality than it was? Talek had said the quality is assessed by how white it looked.

Talek had spoken of being ruthless in business to survive the cut-throat deals of his competitors. He’d also stressed the need to keep their financial affairs confidential. Was he alluding that she might find some discrepancies? And what of Henry’s part in all this? Was he complicit or simply recording what Talek told him to? Grace’s head ached with it all and she longed to speak to her father. His calm words of wisdom would clear the fog in her head. Only she couldn’t go to him now. She had fled and not given him the chance to explain why he had lied to her all her life. The whole situation was a mess and Grace didn’t know who knew what. She would talk to Amelia in the morning and see if she could shed some light on the matter.

* * *

The night felt endless. Grace tossed and turned, debating with herself how best to broach the subject to Amelia. How do you question their business affairs without accusing her brother or the man she loved of deception? Finally, as the early morning sun sliced through the heavy cloud, Grace fell into a fitful sleep. It lasted no more than an hour, before she found herself awake again and staring at the same morning light dancing on the ceiling above. The day had arrived, but despite looking forward to it, Grace felt sick with anxiety.

Amelia had already breakfasted by the time Grace entered the drawing room. She was surprised Grace was seeking her company and said as much.

‘I thought you would be shut away immersed in your books,’ she said, pausing in her letter writing to look up at her.

Unsure how to reply, Grace simply offered her a smile.

‘You did not join us for breakfast.’