Page 72 of A Provincial Peer

“The money I withdrew to purchase young trees before I left for London was marked as a deficit.”

“Meaning the money was taken out of the bank even though we received no trees.”

“So it would seem,” his father said. “A second withdrawal—also for apple trees—was made more recently by you.”

“The money I paid directly to Thomas Sedgewick,” Benedict said.

“Yes.”

Benedict set his hands on the desk and leaned forward so that he might see the entries in the ledgers more clearly. “If Rowe has been pocketing these huge sums for months, where has the money gone? And has he been acting alone?”

His father gave a grunt of frustration. “I have yet to find answers to either of those questions.”

“Who did he sell the wheat to?”

“Thankfully, there only seems to be one business involved.” His father slid a small piece of paper toward him. A name was written on it in his father’s hand. Geoffrey Blyton and Sons.

Benedict’s head shot up. “You cannot be serious!”

“Completely.” His father eyed him warily. “Why?”

“I noticed the name when I glanced at the book in Rowe’s office, but I did not realize its full significance. This is the company Rowe has been purchasing flour from for Cook.”

His father muttered something unintelligible before slapping his hand onto the desk. “He’s playing us for fools, Benedict. He’s paid an unknown mill to grind our wheat and had them sell the flour at a profit. When he received the money for the flour, he credited the farm with a fraction of the amount and pocketed the difference. And then, to add insult to injury, he has forced us to buy back our own flour at an inflated price.”

In Benedict’s chest, disgust mingled with dismay. “I should have paid more attention to the books whilst you were gone.”

“It would have been all but impossible to know what Rowe was about without access to his personal ledger,” his father said. “I was the one who hired Rowe, and so I must take responsibility for what has happened. I trusted him to do his job in a forthright and honorable way. He has failed to do so.” He eyed the books seriously. “Not only shall I require that he own his deceit and repay what he has stolen, but he shall also suffer the consequences of his dishonesty.”

“How do you propose to move forward from here?” Benedict asked.

“An official statement from the bank will tell us a great deal. Unfortunately, we shall have to wait to speak to Rowe himself to uncover the breadth of his crimes.”

“If he admits to them.”

“Oh, he will.” His father’s voice had hardened. “Rowe may be deceitful, but he cannot refute indisputable evidence.” He closed the brown book with a snap. “Until that time, I think it would serve us well to learn more about Geoffrey Blyton and Sons.”

“Agreed,” Benedict said. “Cook told me that Rowe ordered the flour from Gloucester. Given how often the gentleman visited the place, I imagine that is where we shall find the establishment.” He straightened. “I shall go to Gloucester and see what I can uncover.”

“Take the carriage in case you encounter bad weather.”

Benedict would have preferred to ride Saxon, but he could not fault his father’s thinking. “Very well. I shall leave tomorrow morning, immediately after I have checked on the cottage.”

“Good gracious! You both look excessively gloomy.” At the sound of his mother’s voice, Benedict turned toward the door. His mother was standing in the doorway, resplendent in a pink gown decorated with layers of wide lace.

“I fear we have experienced a gloomy sort of day,” his father said, moving away from the desk to greet her.

His father was skirting the truth, but Benedict grasped his unspoken message immediately. For now, his mother was not to know what they had lost or how much they yet stood to lose.

“I am very sorry to hear it,” she said, blissfully unaware of his father’s euphemism. “I have had a rather delightful day, and I have some good news.”

Benedict’s father raised a curious eyebrow. “If it is good news, I am more than ready to hear it.”

“Jim Simkins is recovering well, as is his wife. Their baby is quite delightful. When I saw him in Caroline’s arms, he appeared perfectly content—and not the least bit hungry.”

Benedict’s heart thumped. “You saw Caroline today?”

“Why, yes. At the Simkinses’ house. She was there with her father.” His mother eyed him a little too attentively. “I confess, that is not the portion of my news that I had thought would interest you most.”