Chapter 6 #3
Darcy nodded. “Honestly, you can employ someone to do whatever is difficult for you—and, by the way, many estate owners have a secretary in their employ, a man who can deal with correspondence and other tasks—and I believe this is something you must do.” He grinned and said, “I imagine you know why?”
“My dreadful handwriting, which everyone and his mother complains of at every opportunity?”
“Exactly.” Darcy nodded but then held his gaze as he explained, “However, you should be able to check the books once in a while because it is possible that someone might deliberately steal from you. Try one more time to find the error, attempting to go column by column, checking the totals you come up with against the totals recorded. Just five to ten more minutes, and I am positive you will spot it.”
Bingley felt fortified by the hot beverage and his friend’s assurances. He sat down and very methodically applied himself, just as Darcy had suggested.
“Ah!” he finally said. “It is here in the Rents Collected.”
“It is,” Darcy agreed. “Can you spot what might have happened?”
Bingley ran his eyes over the column of numbers one more time and said, “I suppose that, if one is tired, this particular three could be seen as an eight? That would explain the total being off by five….”
“I agree that it is likely what happened. Now all you need to do, when finding such an error, is to bring it up to the steward and ensure that the correction is made. Do you see that two things result from this effort on your part?”
Bingley looked up to meet Darcy’s serious gaze. “I suppose that you mean that, not only will the books be balanced, but also the steward will know that I have put in the effort to check. He—and likely others—will know that someone with care and capability is steering the ship?”
Darcy rose, clapped him on the shoulder, and agreed. “Exactly right.” He pulled the cord and murmured, “When your man comes, ask for the steward to come for a brief meeting. It is best to handle things while they are fresh in your mind.”
Bingley fervently agreed with that and crisply gave the order.
As they waited, Darcy said, “I generally do note the specifics on a piece of paper while I wait. That way, if there is an interruption, I will have a written document I can use to refresh myself with the particulars. Can you read your own handwriting, Bingley?”
Chuckling ruefully, Bingley admitted that it was sometimes a bit of a struggle, but he did well enough. He sat down and wrote a careful note. By the time he had finished, his steward, Mr Robertson, was knocking at the open door.
“Come in,” Bingley said.
Mr Robertson bowed and asked, “You wished to see me, sir?” He glanced from Bingley to Darcy, who had taken a seat at a window.
Bingley nodded and said, “I found an error in the books, Mr Robertson.” He noted that the man blanched, and Bingley quickly explained where he found the discrepancy, which column total was off, and what he thought the genesis of the error was.
Mr Robertson apologised, thanked him for his kindness in understanding his error, and bent over the desk as he corrected the error by adding an adjustment line.
Bingley knew that Mr Robertson sometimes used his tools to carefully scrape ink off the page—there were several steps to the process, and Bingley had never asked what the tools and powders used were called…
. But Mr Robertson had not done those things, this time, and Bingley resolved to ask Darcy why, once the man had left.
“Again, apologies, sir,” Mr Robertson said. Bingley was positive that he heard a new note of respect in the man’s voice, and he contemplated how wise Darcy’s counsel was to let his servants know that he was auditing the finances.
After Mr Robertson left, Darcy approached Bingley with his hand outstretched. They shook. “Well done, my friend,” Darcy said. “You had the perfect tone to gain the reputation of an intelligent, diligent, fair-minded master.”
Bingley said, “I am once again so grateful for all of your diligence, Darcy. I owe you so much.”
“I am happy to help.”
“I was wondering why Mr Robertson did not erase the incorrect numbers. I have seen him do so before, with a little scraping tool and some powder—I am sure you know more about this than I…. But this time he just added a line at the bottom. Why did he do it that way, now?”
Darcy nodded. “That is a good question. When writing financial records, if a clerk or steward makes a mistake but immediately catches his own mistake, he uses his tools to erase and rewrite the correct number. However, you as master audited his books and discovered a mistake he had not caught and corrected. Do you see how erasure at this point might look suspicious, or might seem to be claiming that no mistake had been made? Whereas, adding an adjustment line specifically points to the mistake made but makes the correction mathematically, thus keeping the books balanced.”
Bingley nodded; the answer was logical and consistent with his own values of integrity and clarity.
At that moment, Mr Conrad knocked on the study door. Asked to come in, the butler apologised for the interruption and presented an express. Bingley opened the note, read it, and sighed. He thrust the note towards Darcy and rang for Mrs Nicholls. He was going to need some rooms prepared.
The note was a terse statement from his brother-in-law, Gerald Hurst, who had discovered that his wife, Louisa, and their sister Caroline had hired a coach to take them to Netherfield.
He was hurrying to ready himself to follow with his carriage.
“If you need to send your sisters packing, I will be on hand to take them back to London. If you wish for another solution, we can discuss that. Again, my apologies on behalf of my wife.”
Bingley saw Darcy’s frown, but a second later, Darcy looked up from the note with an admirably neutral expression. “From what the servants told Hurst about their time of departure,” he said, “your sisters could be arriving any minute now.”
Of course—of course!—at that very moment clamour broke out, with a very strident woman’s voice rising from several other sounds. “Where is my brother?”
Bingley’s lips formed the name Caroline! He did not bother to voice what was, in his mind, both a complaint and a prayer for patience.