He inspected the estate offices without warning, examined original ledgers, and requested receipts for expenses previously accepted upon Vane's assurances.
He rode to outlying farms.
He spoke to tenants.
He listened.
The process was not invariably comfortable.
Several farmers complained about drainage ditches neglected for years. A blacksmith presented three unpaid invoices. A miller insisted that timber purchased for repairs had never been delivered.
Julian discovered that the cost of the supposed improvements had risen dramatically while the condition of the property had deteriorated.
Silas Vane continued to provide explanations.
Some were convincing.
Others were not.
Clara spent her mornings with Mrs. Calder examining the school accounts and her afternoons in the library comparing correspondence.
Mrs. Porter accompanied her whenever propriety required it.
Bess Finch, meanwhile, became an unexpectedly useful ally.
The maid had grown up in Mereford and knew nearly every family in the village.
Her father had been a groom at Alderwick until a fall from a carriage left him unable to continue working. Her mother took in washing, and her younger brother Ned helped in the stables.
Bess understood the household in ways Clara never could.
She knew which footman carried letters.
Which clerk visited the servants' hall.
Which tradesmen complained about late payments.
And which doors Mr. Vane preferred to use when he did not wish to be observed.
One afternoon, Clara encountered her polishing silver in a small room beside the pantry.
“Bess, may I ask you something?”
The maid looked up.
“Of course, miss.”
“Has Mr. Vane always been unpopular?”
Bess glanced toward the door.
“He's never been particularly loved, miss.”
“Why?”
“He's a man who remembers every penny spent on a servant and forgets every promise made to one.”
Clara smiled sadly.
“That is a very accurate description.”
Bess lowered her voice.
“He dismissed old Mr. Grady last winter.”
“Who was Mr. Grady?”
“The mill foreman. Worked here forty years. His knees were bad, and he couldn't climb the ladders anymore.”
“What happened to him?”
“He went to live with his daughter.”
“Was he given a pension?”
Bess looked surprised.
“No, miss.”
Clara frowned.
“Surely the estate provided something.”
“Mr. Vane said there wasn't money.”
Clara thought of the school's missing reserve.
“And His Grace?”
“Never heard about it, I expect.”
Bess rubbed the silver spoon harder.
“Begging your pardon, miss, but grand houses are full of people who know precisely what the duke has eaten for breakfast and very little about what happens beyond the servants' stairs.”
Clara considered her.
“You are unusually observant.”
“My father says observation is free, miss, and therefore the only education poor people can always afford.”
Clara smiled.
“Your father sounds sensible.”
“He is, except where horses are concerned.”
“What does he do with horses?”
“He trusts them.”
They both laughed.
Then Bess's expression became serious.
“Miss Langley, may I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
“The other night, I was carrying linen past the estate office.”
Clara waited.
“Mr. Vane was speaking to Sir Edmund.”
“What did they say?”
“I couldn't hear everything. But Sir Edmund said the marriage must be settled before the October assembly.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
Bess hesitated.
“Then Mr. Vane said something about the river and how they couldn't delay much longer.”
Clara's heart quickened.
“Did they mention the school?”
“No, miss.”
“Anything else?”
Bess looked down.
“Sir Edmund said the duke was beginning to ask the wrong questions.”
Clara felt a chill.
“And Mr. Vane?”