Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Alice finished her ablutions, retied her snood, and made her way back toward the library, ignoring the questioning looks from the footmen.
No wonder the baron did so well at trade. He gloried in every aspect of it, from knowing the seasonal shifts in ocean currents to keeping track of which clerk had an ailing mother. His business was his passion, almost like a composer who became enthralled with the creation of a great symphony.
In the context of mercantile activities, his voracious curiosity and restless mind were assets.
They were positively bothersome when aimed at Alice’s past.
The library door was open, of course. Alice stopped in the corridor, consulted the watch on her sleeve, and made a silent vow that she would decamp in one hour. The day’s mail was light, and she was developing an instinct for how to fashion a reply consistent with the baron’s preferred tone.
“You are displeased,” Alice said upon returning to the library. The baron’s expression was nigh thunderous.
“The ruddy blighter is quitting. I cannot believe…” He rose from the desk and paced along the tall windows.
“That varlet. That unreliable, ungrateful, unimaginative… He’ll be back, but of all the times to jump ship.
And he knows that. He’s doing this when I’m stuck up here in Yorkshire, and nobody’s stopping him. ”
The baron had turned his back on Alice, and what a fine view of manhood in its prime that was. “Who has given notice, sir?”
“The person I have trained, educated, and supported for five years, whom I have entrusted for the past two years with overseeing North American trade, our most lucrative market… Profanity falls short of the mark, Alice. I’d like to see him blackballed from his clubs, turned out of his house, and left with only the coins in his pocket, which is where he’d be if I hadn’t spotted his potential. ”
Ah, betrayal wrapped in abandonment. A very serious hurt. “You want revenge.”
He sent a fulminating glance over his shoulder. “Do you blame me?”
“Certainly not.” Alice took the seat behind the desk and picked up a quill pen.
“I suspect the best revenge is simply to wish him well. Send him your hearty congratulations on having secured an exciting new post. Promise to keep him in mind if an opportunity to benefit him professionally comes along. I trust he took up with a competitor?”
“Of course, and for what he claims is more pay. I paid him what he was worth and turned a blind eye when he went running home to his wife three times a day.”
“Coin of the realm is not the only valuable compensation. If this fellow has less responsibility and less authority to act independently, he will not last long at his post, no matter how lucrative. If he’s henpecked at home, then his business acumen will mean a great deal to him.”
The baron turned as Alice began sharpening his pens. “You do have a point. Worth Kettering hovers over his clerks like a cat with one kitten. I can’t imagine a new factor will be permitted much initiative, not that Armendink has much initiative.”
“Who is Worth Kettering?”
“A man of business, in every sense of the term. We sometimes cooperate for mutual gain. Kettering married recently. Perhaps he’s looking to step back from trade. Found an earl’s daughter to take him on. Armendink will have to toe the mark.”
London gossip was no doubt part and parcel of London trade, but Alice found it tiresome. Who had just married whom two hundred miles to the south did not interest her in the least.
“Oddly enough, Kettering is an earl’s younger son,” his lordship went on. “In trade and enjoying every minute of it. When I first mustered out, I found significant consolation in Kettering’s example.”
At least he’d found consolation in something.
“Make Armendink miss his old job,” Alice said.
“Cite all the projects you had hoped to delegate to him, but now cannot. Mention how you’d enjoy having his opinion on this or that prospect, then dismiss the topic.
Make him wish his new employer trusted him with as much responsibility as the previous one did after five years. ”
The baron stalked to the desk and took the chair opposite. “You have a diabolical streak, Alice Singleton. This is a singularly attractive quality and profoundly useful in a commercial context. I will do as you say. Let’s draft a reply for our Mr. Armendink, shall we?”
The baron favored hearty good wishes, while Alice advocated a touch of wistful regret.
“‘What a shame you won’t be on hand to help us name the next ship,’” Alice said. “That sort of thing.”
“You want me to take a leaf from Aunt Josephine’s book?
” Dark brows rose. “Half my boyhood was that woman lamenting my shortcomings. ‘Such a pity little Camden isn’t very bright.’ ‘What a shame Camden struggles so with figures.’ ‘A very great mercy that Camden is the younger son, considering how little talent he has for witty conversation. A peer must be charming, after all.’”
“Oh dear. You struggled with figures?” The reading table boasted no less than six open ledgers, and a seventh sat on the desk before Alice. “One cannot credit that.”
“I have never struggled with figures, unless I admit that looking away from them is often difficult. I was several years younger than Alexander and Bernard, and thus my grasp of mathematics lagged behind theirs. Little Cam grew up, and his ability with numbers has improved significantly.”
A toothy smile accompanied that observation.
“I can vouch for little Cam’s brightness,” Alice said, wanting to take her parasol to Lady Josephine Huxley.
In some sideways version of caring, Alice might deserve her ladyship’s criticisms. Young Camden Huxley should never have suffered such insults.
“Little Camden has grown perceptive and shrewd. He is quite the man of the world and more than equal to a peer’s responsibilities. ”
“Perceptive and shrewd? Alice, you will put me to the blush.”
“I am stating the obvious.”
“Stating it a bit fiercely.”
The smile in his lordship’s eyes said he was pleased with her defense of him, though his joy was a subtle, sweet thing to behold. He radiated secret satisfaction, and Alice’s soul answered with reciprocal happiness.
“Bad of me,” she said, “but the notion that Lady Josephine was so very, very wrong is gratifying. She meant well, I’m sure, but—”
“Stop. You needn’t print a retraction in The Times. My aunt is a disappointed woman and cannot reconcile herself to a situation most ladies would delight in. She was nasty to me as a boy. I can only imagine what Bernard has had to put up with from her.”
Bernard, among many others. “She wants him to become a bishop. You will be expected to assist in making her ambitions a reality.”
The baron crossed his legs at the knee, which a gentleman ought not to do in polite company. On him, the posture was relaxed and sophisticated. He folded his arms as well, putting Alice in mind of a castle garrison raising the drawbridge and manning the arrow slits.
“Does Bernard want to be a bishop?” he asked.
“Put the question to him. I do believe he wants to be free of his mother’s hovering, but she refuses to use the Yorkshire town house.”
“I’d banish her to the London property, except that I bide in London, and she would make my life merry hell.”
Alice considered the very sharp point on her quill pen. “You could alternate. You spend spring and fall up here, send Lady Josephine to Town for those seasons.” Was it lovelier to contemplate Lady Josephine’s absence or the baron’s presence?
Dangerous question.
“I suspect,” his lordship said, “Aunt Josephine cannot afford Town, which means I am safe there from her meddling. I will query Bernard regarding his ecclesiastical ambitions. I have no sort of pull with the archbishops, but I do occasionally have some spare coin.”
Little Camden had also acquired a grasp of irony, apparently. “Coin works well at securing heavenly favor, I’m told.”
“Then Bishop Bernard will have to be patient. My means at present are mostly tied up in inventory. Later in the year, I should be quite flush, but as the cycle of revenue and expenses stands now, it’s the vicarage for Cousin Bernie.”
“You are honestly pockets to let?” Alice ventured a question she would not have considered even a day ago.
“No. I am personally solvent and then some, but the business is a trifle overextended. It gets that way from time to time, then products sell, ships journey to lucrative destinations, and the next season’s inventory can be procured.
We manage a cycle of having either plenty of inventory or plenty of cash, but seldom both in abundance.
All of commerce operates on a similar pattern. ”
Alice did not like the sound of this pattern, but at least his lordship was personally secure. “Have we more letters to write?”
We. The slip was forgivable, given that the baron had just been freely discussing his finances with her.
“Only one.” He passed her a sealed missive. “That’s from my Irish factor. The news is neither terrible nor joyous.”
Alice slit the seal with a letter opener. “How can you tell?”
“His penmanship varies with his mood, or perhaps with his consumption of spirits. The man is utterly reliable, though, and knows the linen trade like Gooseberry understands green grass.”
“You buy Irish linen?” Prized for its quality, especially for summer bedding.
“I grow Irish flax, or I do unless the weather is disastrous, and I have my flax turned into linen. What does he say?”
Alice scanned a short, tidy epistle. “Harvest will be adequate if the weather holds, though a bit late. Some time might be made up in the retting and hackling, but weavers will likely be unavailable by the time the fibers are ready for spinning, owing to earlier crops absorbing capacity.”