‘Agreed. And you must keep your promise not to tell Talek about this deal and my part in it.’
Grace nodded and took another sip of steaming tea. She swallowed down the painful heat, which helped to ground her in a landscape that continued to trouble her.
* * *
Grace gently pushed open the door of the St Austell mining office. It swung easily on its well-oiled hinges, gliding over the tiles like a swan in flight. She had a right to be here, she told herself, as she ran her fingers across the Celtic Clay, Proprieters Ward Danning nameplate on the door as she stepped inside. The noise of carriages and townsfolk in the street below seeped in through the gap in the window frame, muted only by the folds of the heavy curtains. She had handed in Amelia’s letter to Henry’s housekeeper, but she had quickly left without handing over the ledgers. Talek had entrusted her with the accounts and she was unwilling to pass the guardianship back to their former owner just yet. She needed to clarify things first and she had a feeling that somewhere in this office she would find the answers.
Talek had offered her access to this room, but she still felt like a trespasser as he did not know she was here now with the intention of searching every cupboard and drawer while he was out of the county.
Although Amelia had written to Henry and asked him to cancel the contract, Grace could not forget about it. Amelia was right when she expressed concerns that a fall-out between business partners could cost jobs. It was on this basis, coupled with her loyalty to Amelia, that Grace had agreed to remain silent. It was not long before the doubts had set in. During the night, when the hour is at its blackest, old fears and what ifs resurfaced in Grace’s mind. Despite Amelia’s earlier pleas, Grace could not escape the fact that she was betraying Talek. If he was the cold calculating man he pretended to be, then it would be easier to remain silent on the matter, but now, after Talek’s kiss on the beach, she had seen a side of him that was far different to the man he pretended to be. It tore at her heart to know that this kind, caring, passionate man was being betrayed by all those he held dear. One day he would find out, and she could not bear the thought of witnessing his anguish when he did.
She could run away and forget the Danning family. She had run from her troubles before and could do it again. The decision made, Grace finally fell into a fitful sleep, but sound decisions made at night, seem foolish in the light of day. Upon waking, Grace quickly changed her mind. This time she had no intention of avoiding the problem, but she could not risk tearing a family apart on a hunch. She would face it head on, and she believed she would find the evidence she needed in this office.
Grace shut the door, locked it and began a methodical search of every drawer, shelf and folder. The first two drawers yielded nothing of interest, but she was not disheartened. Henry was meticulous in his record keeping, but he had not kept a record of the increased profits Amelia said he was planning to reinvest. Grace was convinced that he would keep a record somewhere and she suspected the deposits would tally with the faint marks on the account books. She opened the third drawer and started at the back, working her way through it, page by page, book by book. Again she found nothing of interest.
Grace sat back on her heels. The dark ornate furniture seemed to crowd in on her. Her gaze flitted from chair, desk and sideboard, up along the shelf crammed with yellowing maps tied with scarlet ribbon. Dull books lined the other shelves, some dusty from neglect, others with spines cracked from frequent use. Grace slowly rose to her feet as her eyes came to rest on one book in particular. It was pale brown and uninteresting, with no writing on the spine to indicate the title, yet it appeared to be a novel in a working office. She walked towards it, reached up and slid it from the shelf.
She carefully opened it, as if it was far more fragile than the small, leather bound book it was. It was heavy for its size, with column upon column of numbers, meticulously recorded in fine black ink and neatly displaying everything she had been searching for. Selling the clay from Stenna Pit as a higher-grade clay had been presented to her as a business contract to be proud of. If it was, why would Henry hide the details in a secret ledger disguised as a novel? A makeshift pocket on the inside of the cover cradled a book no bigger than a man’s pocket. Grace recognised it instantly. It was a passbook, so called as it was passed from bank customer to teller to record the transactions of their accounts. She itched to examine it, but hesitated. If the passbook related to Henry’s personal account, she had no right to pry — but what if it tallied with the marks in the ledger? Grace slowly opened it.
Henry’s name, as owner and director of Celtic Clay, was the first thing she saw. She gnawed her lip as she wondered if Talek was aware of the account or was Henry representing the business on his behalf. How could she ask him? It would mean she would have to explain why she was examining a man’s bank account without his permission? The burning desire for answers soon got the better of her and she began to cross-reference the deposits in the passbook to the ledger. Although the dates tallied, the amounts did not and she had to conclude that Henry, whether he was working alone or not, was skimming off the extra profit and placing it into another account. It was evidence, but she wasn’t sure what crime had been committed, if any. As Amelia had argued, ‘What harm could it be to sell clay for a higher price than its true worth?’ With Talek away, she had to find out and, after finding the passbook, she wasn’t convinced the extra profit was going to be reinvested. Henry had been meticulous in his record keeping. This showed her he did not make a habit of making mistakes and, more worryingly, he chose what to share.
* * *
‘Your first unannounced visit was amusing, Miss Kellow,’ said Henry, without looking at her. ‘Your second less so.’ He poured himself a drink, before turning in his chair to face her. He looked tired and moved slowly, his body stiff as if in readiness to guard against any pain. He raised the amber whisky in greeting, causing the spirit to swirl precariously inside the crystal cut glass in his hand. ‘I’m improving. Today I can walk, tomorrow I may run.’ He winced as he eased himself further back in his chair, adjusting a cushion with a grimace as he did so. Grace did not offer to help him.
‘I needed to speak with you.’
‘And I you. You omitted to leave my ledger. I hope you have brought it with you today.’
‘No I have not.’
Henry drained his glass with a jerk of his head, then screwed up his face as the heat hit the back of his throat. He placed the empty glass on the table beside him, looked up at her and smiled. The smile did not meet his eyes.
‘And why is that?’ he asked.
‘Because I know what you have been up to.’ She removed the small book and passbook from her bag and placed them on the table in front of him. ‘I found these.’
Henry looked at them. His expression did not change. ‘And what, pray, have you discovered?’
‘That you’re selling the clay from Stenna Pit for a higher price than it is worth.’
‘A good business deal.’
‘Which is what Amelia said.’
Henry raised an eyebrow and smiled. Grace forged ahead. She had made the decision to confront him and it was too late to change her mind now.
‘I also know that you are keeping the profit for yourself.’
‘I’m the owner. The money is mine.’
‘It is also Talek’s and Amelia’s.’
‘You are assuming that they’re not aware.’
Grace frowned. Amelia knew a little of it, but her involvement was born from ignorance and innocence. She was less sure of Talek. He had spoken of being ruthless in business to succeed, but did that mean he was willing to hoodwink his customers? No, not the man who said a clay mine succeeded or failed on the quality of its product. Yet Talek was a man who could compartmentalise. When he had held her on the beach, his breath as ragged as her own, he was still able to set his feelings aside and be brutally honest about his future plans. Plans which did not involve falling in love with her. Could he compartmentalise his business too? Grace shook her head. Talek’s moral character was unshakeable, she was sure.
‘I don’t believe Talek would do that. You have to tell him what you’ve done before it’s too late.’
Henry’s smile disappeared. ‘And why would I do that? If the potteries can only send stiff-necked inspectors who can’t tell the difference between the different qualities of clay, they deserve all they get.’
Grace sat down next to him. ‘Then stop for your fiancée’s sake.’
Henry frowned. ‘Leave Amelia out of this.’
‘Amelia has found herself in the middle of all this. You know the truth about Amelia and you must realise that carrying such deceit cannot be healthy for her. She loves her brother, but her loyalty to you is forcing her to keep secrets from him.’
‘I think you better leave.’
‘Not until you have promised to stop.’
‘No harm has come from the transaction.’
‘But it might.’
Henry looked at her beneath heavy lids. ‘I want you to go.’
‘We have large vats in our dairy. They are as high as a man and ten foot wide. Milk from the neighbouring farms are poured into it each morning.’
