In the library, the meeting began badly. Mr. Prowse arrived with a ledger under his arm, smiling with the patient indulgence of a man accustomed to explaining sums to people who did not understand them. He declared that fuel prices had risen, delivery routes had been disrupted, and schoolgirls were notorious for forgetting wages placed in their hands. He glanced at Nora as though she had left a stain on the carpet. "I cannot imagine why my lord permits this young woman to question my integrity," he said. "She has already shown herself unfit for a position of trust."
"Then it is fortunate," Nora answered, "that figures do not become true because the person reading them has a title." Lady Honoria made a noise that might have been a suppressed laugh. Nora laid the duplicate work tickets beside the official ledger. She pointed to the entry claiming two hundred and forty pounds for coal and asked Prowse to name the man who had delivered it. He named a driver from Barrow & Sons. Nora produced a signed statement from the merchant explaining that no such driver worked for him and that the firm had issued no receipt bearing the number recorded in the accounts.
Prowse's smile vanished. He claimed a clerical mistake. Nathaniel asked why a clerical mistake had resulted in money being withdrawn from the trust's bank account. Prowse said the payment had been authorized by the charity committee. At Lady Honoria's request, he opened a pocket folder and produced an order bearing Cecily's signature. The ink was genuine enough; the instruction directed the trust's bankers to pay a firm called Prowse & Co. for "coal and carriage." Nora had already established that Prowse & Co. shared an address with a warehouse leased to the treasurer's brother. The evidence did not yet show where every pound had gone, but it showed that the school had paid an intermediary for goods it had not received.
Then came the wages. The school's report claimed one hundred and eighty pounds distributed to pupils employed on embroidery and dressmaking commissions. Nora spread Bess Turner's work tickets across the table, along with a dozen others signed by a Brighton forewoman. The tickets recorded the pieces completed but not the wages paid. Several girls had been charged for materials they never used, leaving them in debt after weeks of labor. Mr. Bell compared the tickets with the school's roster and frowned. "These names are entered here as having been paid in full," he said. Nora shook her head. "Ask the girls. Ask their mothers. They can tell you which evenings they worked without supper."