Thrown Out on Christmas Eve, She Took Shelter in an Empty House — Unaware the Duke Was Coming Home
Chapter 7
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"That's what I thought.""Mr. Pike's accounts—" said Edmund, and then stopped himself. "Mr. Pike tells the Duke that he buys candles for this house. A great many candles. To keep it aired, he says, and for the watchmen at night.""There are no watchmen," said Hannah. "There's been no watchman here since the old Duchess died. Everyone knows that. Mr. Pike rides up once a month, walks around the outside, and rides away."Edmund was very still."Who does he say he buys them from?" Hannah asked."I don't know," said Edmund, and then, because he did know—because he had read the accounts every quarter for nine years without truly looking at them—"No, that isn't true. I've seen the name in his accounts: Lowe. Lowe & Daughter, Chandlers, Lower Ashmere."Hannah set down the teapot. "We never sold a candle to Ashmere House after the Duchess died," she said. "Not one. Father used to say it was a shame, a great house like that standing dark. I kept his order book myself for the last five years. I would know."They looked at each other across the kitchen table."How much," said Hannah quietly, "does Mr. Pike say he spends?"Edmund did the sum in his head. He was good at sums. "Sixty pounds weight of beeswax candles a month," he said. "At the price Pike gives, that comes to something over £40 a year. For nine years.""Sixty pounds a month," said Hannah. "Do you know how much beeswax my father made in a year, in his best year? Ninety pounds weight for the whole valley, the church included. Beeswax is dear. Most people buy tallow or make their own rushlights. A shop like ours sells beeswax to the church, the vicarage, the squire, and a few families at Christmas." She shook her head slowly. "Sixty pounds a month would have made my father the richest man in Westmorland. And look where he died: owing rent to Mr. Pike."Edmund turned and walked to the window. He stood with his back to her, looking out at the snow."I'm sorry," Hannah said after a moment. "I shouldn't have said all that. You work for the estate. It isn't your fault.""Isn't it?" said Edmund. His voice was strange. "Someone should have looked. Someone should have come home and looked."Before Hannah could ask what he meant, Sam appeared in the kitchen doorway in his stockings, with the gray cat in his arms."Is it really Christmas?" he asked.Edmund turned around. His face changed: whatever had been in it a moment before was put away somewhere, and he smiled at the boy."It's really Christmas," he said. "And this house hasn't had a proper one in nine years. I think it's owed one. What do you think?"Sam thought about it seriously. "I think," he said, "we need holly."