Chapter Ten
Alastair Pembroke looked up at the sound of his front doorbell. He’d been deeply immersed in a new set of calculations, and the interruption wasn’t welcome.
He heard his tickerkin rolling to the hall and speaking to whoever it was. Hopefully, he’d tell them to go away.
The door opened and a metallic face peered around it. “Lady Verity Turner-Yardley is wondering if you might have a few free moments for her, sir?”
“Oh,” Alastair straightened. “Absolutely, Henry. Show her right in.”
Verity. Just the person he needed. She’d have an opinion on his calculations, without a doubt.
“I hope I’m not bothering you at a bad time, Alastair?” She walked in, bringing the scent of flowers and sunshine with her.
“A visit from you is never a bother, dear girl. In fact, it’s perfectly timed. I’m going to take the opportunity of showing you some of my recent work. I need your opinions.”
She smiled briefly. “And I yours, on a matter of some importance.” The smile vanished. “Considerable importance, actually.”
Obviously comfortable with him, she unfastened her bonnet and tossed it onto a nearby couch, pulling out a chair opposite Alastair and settling down. “I’m sorry, I have papers. Several papers.”
“Don’t be sorry, Verity. You and I are alike in many ways.” He gestured to his pile of papers. “I can’t live without ‘em.”
He watched as she sorted them neatly into piles, fascinated as always by the way her mind worked. Some might call it simple, organised, but he knew it was so much more than that.
“Right then,” she murmured, almost to herself. “It’s a problem, Alastair. And one for which I have no solution.”
Curious now, the older man frowned at her. “This is quite unusual, Verity. In fact I’m not sure I can recall you ever running into something unsolvable?”
“It’s bothering me too. So...”
But before she could begin showing Alastair her papers, the front doorbell rang again.
He rolled his eyes. “Henry,” he shouted. “Whoever it is, I’m not at home.”
“Well that would be a dreadful lie, now, wouldn’t it?”
Lucas Aschombe filled the doorway, smiling at Alastair. “I need your help, my friend. Something is wrong, and I’m having trouble putting my finger on it...” He stopped, blinking as he saw the other occupant of the room.
Verity gave him a level gaze. “Problems? The great Lucas Ashcombe unable to solve a problem? Interesting.”
Alastair spoke before Lucas had a chance to snap back at her.
“Sit, lad. This is certainly a morning to solve problems. And three heads are better than two.” He glanced at Lucas. “However, since she was already here, I’m going to let the lady have the floor first.”
Lucas muttered under his breath, but took the other chair at the table, and quietly pulled out a file filled with papers.
“Well,” said Verity. “I’m sure you’ll both find my problem to be quite unimportant, and with luck you can come up with a solution for me.”
“Let’s see.” Alastair beckoned toward her papers.
“Last evening,” she began, describing the events as they had happened, and detailing them clearly, step by step, Alastair’s gentle countenance firmed into a frown.
“Let me take a closer look,” he said. “This should not be. Just...no. It should not be.”
“Alastair.” Lucas spoke firmly, attracting the other man’s attention. “From what I’m hearing, this matter of Lady Yardley’s, might dovetail with the problem I’m having, as well.”
He looked up, noticing that Lucas and Verity were regarding each other with a dash of haughty confusion.
“I find it hard to imagine you with a problem similar to mine, sir.” Verity’s chin rose a bit.
“And yet here we are. But your issue seems to be with an account at the Arcvale Bank.”
“Yes,” she replied hesitantly.
“Well then. So is mine.”
She shook her head. “That’s nonsense. It’s a PBIC system. Your system, Sir Lucas. How the devil can you have a problem with your own damn creation?”
“I don’t know, but I do.” He snapped back. “I’ve not touched a single thing, I’ve not been alerted to anything out of the ordinary...” He held up his hand, forestalling her question, “and yes, I would have been. There are alarms built in all over the place.”
Verity blinked. “Oh.”
Alastair observed the two of them curiously as they glared at each other, Lucas’s gaze revealing a quick glimpse of temper, and Verity shooting him fierce looks from unusually stormy grey eyes. He watched with quiet fascination.
Ah. This is interesting...
“Did you check...”
And they were off again, shooting questions at each other like bullets instead of words, neither hesitating, neither backing down. After about ten quite entertaining minutes, Alastair straightened in his chair.
“Enough.” He slammed a large tome down on the table, making a nearby vase of flowers tremble.
The two faces staring at him showed no signs of similar distress, but they had shut up. Which was his goal.
“Arguing like two wild gryphons solves nothing.” He sighed. “I believe we should take a look at each of your problems, see if they are indeed connected, and then follow that connection if we can, and locate the point where these issues began”
Lucas sighed. “An excellent suggestion,” he glanced challengingly at Verity.
“I agree,” she answered.
“Well, that was easy,” Lucas grinned.
Oh lad, wrong thing to say. Verity took a breath and Alastair waited for the explosion.
He was, for once, proved wrong.
“If we could have approached these issues in a civilised manner...” She shot a coldly furious look at Lucas, “we might even now be halfway to solving them. Unfortunately, given the company, we have thus far been unable to do even that. So anything, any idea or suggestion any of us has, I welcome wholeheartedly.”
“I apologise, Lady Verity,” Lucas said quietly. “You’re right. I don’t like the look of what’s happening here, so yes, I too welcome any suggestions, and will be very grateful for whatever suggestions you might have.”
“Right then.” She pushed back the lace of her cuffs. “Let’s dig into this and see if we can find what the hell’s going on in the innards of the Arcvale Bank.”
The two of them bent over the paperwork once again, sorting, pulling some out, putting others aside, their actions growing increasing similar.
Alastair managed to suppress a grin. They were working in tandem like a team of magnificent thoroughbreds, and he doubted that either of them realised it.
They think alike. Almost exactly alike. I wonder if that’s a good thing, or a danger?
*~~*~~*
Shadows lengthened in the Pembroke study, half-empty teacups littered a side table, and there were crumbs on several plates, indicating that food had been there once, but had been consumed sometime during the day.
When Henry quietly rolled into the room, carrying with him a small flint box with which to light the lamps, Alastair sighed. “Children,” he said quietly. “I am seeing double and triple when I look at these figures. Some of which, I swear, I could recite in my sleep.”
Lucas turned swiftly, frowning, and silently castigating himself for not watching the time. “Damn,” he muttered.
“Oh, Alastair. God, I’m so sorry,” Verity reached out and touched his arm. “I think we all got a bit lost in this troubling tangle of information.” She pushed her chair back. “And look at the hour...”
“It’s not a problem...” began the older man.
“You hush now.” Verity stood and rounded the table to his side. “You’ve been so patient with us, so brilliantly helpful. The least we can do is leave you to get a good night’s rest.”
“Indeed.” Lucas had already slipped into his jacket and held Verity’s at the ready. “There’s more to this, we know that now. And we will work it all out.” He smiled as she slid her arms into her coat. “But not tonight.”
“I confess my mind is tired,” sighed Alastair.
“And this is too important to risk making a mistake.” He looked at the two of them.
“When you work together, I swear I hear music. You are like two sides of a broken coin that come together and create something wondrous. I have no doubt,” he smiled, “that if you can work like that again, without coming to blows, this mystery will be solved sooner than later.”
Henry held the door open, politely handing Lucas his hat, and Verity her bonnet, which he’d retrieved from the couch.
“Thank you,” smiled Verity, turning to drop a quick kiss on Alastair’s cheek. “Sleep well, my friend. You’ve earned a good night’s rest.”
“Indeed you have, Alastair. I always leave with something new in my mind after a visit with you. Thank you.” Lucas shook his hand.
“My pleasure, children. Now go away. We will carry on with this soon, I promise.”
Obeying, Lucas and Verity walked away from Pembroke Hill into a moonlit night, each silent with their own thoughts.
“I suppose...”
“You know, it is...”
They stopped, laughed, and walked on.
“You first,” said Lucas.
“I was just going to say that although it’s been exhausting, I have enjoyed today in an odd sort of way.”
He was quiet for a moment, then offered her his arm, far more pleased than he should be when she accepted it.
“I know what you mean.” He took a deep breath of the cool evening air.
“For my part, I’m going to make a confession.
I could never have imagined working alongside anyone who understands numbers, figures, equations, financial systems, the way you do.
It would be incredibly rare in a man. But in you? It’s a miraculous gift.”
She shot him a little smile from beneath the bow on her bonnet. “You didn’t seem to think so when I pointed out the regularity of the discrepancies...”
He grinned back. “I did, I just wasn’t about to let you know.”
“Typical man,” she rolled her eyes. “However, this puzzle...this problem, it could be a real danger, Lucas.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I know,” he replied, his voice sombre.
“What about...”