The Last Word Read online

  A conductor opened the door to the first-class train car for them. David handed Lucinda in and then Mrs. Patton. They found an empty compartment, where Lucinda chose the seat facing forward, and Mrs. Patton sat beside her. The porter secured their luggage, and David tossed the man a coin before entering the compartment and sitting across from the ladies.

  A short time later, the train lurched forward and began to rattle over the tracks. The gentle movement soon had Mrs. Patton right to sleep, her head hanging forward. Lucinda looked at her other traveling companion and saw that David appeared rather pale.

  “Are you feeling sick?”

  “No,” David said, covering his mouth and nose with a handkerchief.

  Lucinda stood and sat back down next to him. She touched his arm in concern. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be concentrating.

  “What can I do to help you?”

  “I’m fine,” David said, opening his light brown eyes. “I just get a little unwell when I travel sitting backward.”

  “Why did you not say so before, Dav—Mr. Randall? You silly man,” Lucinda chided. “Take my seat and I will sit over here.”

  David did not immediately move, so Lucinda gave him a slight shove with the hand she had rested on his arm. Reluctantly, he moved to the opposite seat. He did not speak for several minutes, but his color returned to normal—not that Lucinda was looking. But she happened to notice it between enjoying the scenery that whizzed past the train.

  “I don’t mind if you call me David, as you did when we were children,” he said at last.

  “You may not call me Lucy, as you did when we were children.”

  He blinked in surprise.

  She gave him a saucy smile and tipped her head forward. “You may call me Lucinda.”

  “Lu-cin-da,” he said slowly, as if he were tasting each syllable. Then he nodded toward Mrs. Patton’s gently snoring form. “Does she always sleep this much?”

  “Yes,” Lucinda said. “If she sits down, she falls right to sleep.”

  “A sleeping chaperone is hardly an ideal one.”

  “Depends on your perspective,” Lucinda said. “A sleeping chaperone can be a perfect one if you do not want them overly involved in your every moment. You would not be able to endure any chaperone at all.”

  “True,” David said. “But I am not a young, unmarried woman.”

  “One would think with a woman on the throne, that women in England would have more freedom,” Lucinda said. “If anything, it is less. Miss Holley—the lady who ran the finishing school I attended—told me that when she was a girl, ladies were allowed to go on carriage rides alone with young men. Now if a lady were to do that, her reputation would be ruined.”

  “Is there a particular young man you have in mind?”

  “No,” Lucinda answered honestly. “I should like to ride around in a carriage all by myself. I just wish young women were granted the same privileges as young men. The same opportunities for education and business.”

  “I was wondering when we were going to get to business,” David said with a sympathetic smile. “But you are fortunate in your father. He is allowing you to be a part of his business.”

  Lucinda had the grace to blush. She had no intention of disabusing David of his belief that her father was supportive of her helping at the countinghouse.

  “Odd, isn’t it?” Lucinda said. “You left school to join the business, and soon after, I left the business to go to school. Do you regret not finishing your courses at Eton?”

  David shook his head slowly. “I have regretted far more that my father did not teach me anything practical relating to his business affairs. Whenever I tried to help, he sent me away like a pesky child. And at Eton, I studied the classics and natural sciences. Neither of which have proved particularly useful in my employment.”

  “I daresay they are still more useful in your life than courses on needlework and music,” Lucinda countered.

  “You forgot deportment.”

  “How could I?” Lucinda said. “I was hit on the back with a strap until I learned to sit up straight and walk with my head up.”

  Subconsciously, Lucinda brought her hand to her neck and shoulder, remembering all the many times she’d been struck for slouching. She had slouched because she was so tall and did not want to bring more attention to herself and her height. The meanest teacher, Miss Tenney, wasted no opportunity to punish Lucinda for every slight infraction.

  Lucinda met David’s eyes. He must have realized he had conjured a painful memory, for he tried to change the subject. “And drawing. Don’t all refined young ladies draw?”

  “Alas, I have no talent for drawing,” Lucinda admitted. “Or music either. Although no effort was spared to teach me the rudimentary knowledge of the pianoforte. I have learned by heart three pieces of music should I ever be requested to play.”

  “It is too bad you cannot display your mathematical skills,” David said. “Members of the audience could call out two numbers and you could tell them what they added up to.”

  “They would need to call out at least three numbers,” Lucinda countered, “so that I would be slightly challenged.”

  David nodded at this, then turned toward the window. Lucinda resolutely stared out the window on the other side. They passed several farms and could see a few villages in the distance. Mrs. Patton continued to snore. Lucinda glanced again at David who was, to her surprise, watching her intently.

  “I am sorry you were treated harshly at finishing school,” he said. “I had no idea they treated girls like that. The strap was used quite freely at Eton as well.… When I told my mother what you confided to me, I did not know she would tell your father to send you to school.”

  “What did you expect?”

  David’s face flushed red. “That she would explain to you about a woman’s menses. About the changes that were happening to your person.”

  “I thought I was dying,” Lucinda said at last. “I am grateful that you at least assured me I wasn’t.”

  “I was a fifteen-year-old boy, hardly an ideal person to explain such things to a fourteen-year-old girl,” David said, the exasperation clear in his voice. “And I thought you would be more comfortable hearing about it from another woman.”

  “And I thought my only friend was trying to get rid of me,” Lucinda said. “Out of the office. Out of his life.”

  “I wasn’t trying to get you out of the office or out of my life,” David said. “I was only trying to help you, like you helped me when my father died. You were the one who taught me all the different aspects of the business. I would have been sunk without you, despite your father’s patience. And as I said before, I was only trying to help you.”

  “Next time ask me how I would like to be helped,” Lucinda said, much louder than she had meant to.

  Mrs. Patton stirred. “Oh dear, I must have dozed,” she said. “How long to Bath?”

  “I will go ask the conductor,” David said, and abruptly left the compartment.

  Mrs. Patton looked from David’s departing figure to Lucinda sitting on the opposite seat.

  “Lucinda, pray, why are you sitting over there?”

  “Mr. Randall was feeling sick riding backward.”

  Mrs. Patton nodded. “Well, I suppose I had better switch sides as well. I am your chaperone, after all.”

  Mrs. Patton awkwardly got out of the seat and plunked down next to Lucinda. David returned after a few minutes and said the trip should be over within half an hour. Mrs. Patton thanked him cordially and even managed to stay awake until they reached the train station in Bath.

  Five

  DAVID FELT A WEIGHT FALL from him as the train came to a stop and they began to disembark. Being with Lucinda was equal parts exhilarating and exhausting.

  After they left the train and hailed a hackney coach, they stopped briefly to drop off their luggage at the Pelican Inn, a respectable hotel only a street away from the Pump Room and Bath Abbey. Then, the coach
continued on until it pulled up in front of a white-stone building. David assisted Lucinda out of the vehicle, followed by Mrs. Patton.

  “This is not a lace shop,” Mrs. Patton said in surprise.

  “Mrs. Patton,” Lucinda said, touching the older woman’s arm. “Do you not remember when my father mentioned it last night?”

  “I do not.”

  “You must have dozed off during that bit,” Lucinda said. “My father needs me to assist Mr. Randall in an audit of the Bath office. But I assure you we won’t be long. Will we, Mr. Randall?”

  “We will accomplish the audit as quickly as possible,” he said, holding open the door to the office for the ladies. He followed leisurely behind them.

  Inside there were ten clerks at their own individual desks, all looking agog at Lucinda. She smiled. “May I speak to the manager, Mr. Baxter, please?”

  All ten clerks shuffled to their feet. The clerk sitting closest to her stood so quickly that he bumped over his bottle of ink. He righted the bottle and then offered his arm in a grandiose manner to Lucinda. To David’s surprise, she offered the pimply fellow a wide smile and took his arm. He led her up the staircase to the upper office. David found Mrs. Patton holding on to his arm as she breathed heavily mounting each stair. They stepped up from the stairs to a small landing in front of a red door with a glass window.

  The pimply clerk opened the door with a great flourish and said in a grand manner, “Mr. Baxter, you have guests.”

  David had met Mr. Baxter before, two years previous, and the man looked precisely the same. He had small, watery blue eyes, a large nose, and an enormous black beard and sideburns. He stood up when he saw the ladies; he was at least a head shorter than Lucinda and had a large round belly. He put his thumbs into his vest pockets and said genially, “Now, ladies, to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  David stepped from behind Mrs. Patton. “I’m Mr. David Randall, as I’m sure you recall. This is Miss Leavitt. She wished to inspect the Bath office’s books.”

  Mr. Baxter’s small eyes widened at this, and he bowed obsequiously to David. “Mr. Randall, come right into my office. Such a pleasure to have you here. Is there anything I can get for you? Some tea? Refreshments?”

  Mrs. Patton found her voice. “Tea and refreshments would be most appreciated, sir.”

  Mr. Baxter gave her what may have been called a charming smile and ushered the older lady to a soft chair. Lucinda found her own seat and David sat down beside her. The office was not large and felt a trifle crowded with four occupants.

  Mr. Baxter stood behind his desk. “How can I be of assistance today?” he asked.

  Before David could speak, Lucinda said brightly, “We shall need the last six months of ledgers. Possibly more, but we will start with those.”

  “I will have a clerk bring them immediately,” Mr. Baxter said.

  He had moved to leave the office when Lucinda added, “Would it be a terrible inconvenience if Mr. Randall and myself had sole use of your office for this afternoon?”

  Mr. Baxter’s round belly hit the doorframe as he turned around to reassure her that he would be most happy to accommodate her. Then he left to summon a clerk for the ledgers.

  Lucinda took off her gloves and then her bonnet. Her dark brown hair was a comely mess of curls. She patted it with her hands, but only succeeded in making it worse. She seemed to realize this, for she began to take out all the hairpins. Her hair cascaded down her back in dark waves.

  “My dear girl,” Mrs. Patton said, “it is hardly appropriate to have your hair down in front of a gentleman.”

  Lucinda smirked. “I can assure you that Mr. Randall is made of sterner stuff than that. But if the sight of my hair down does indeed cause him to swoon, I promise to catch him before he hits the floor.”

  David laughed so loudly that he missed part of Mrs. Patton’s apology for her charge’s “lively manners.” Meanwhile, Lucinda twisted her hair into a large bun at the bottom of her neck. She stabbed the bun ruthlessly with the pins until it stayed. She was looking rather … presentable when Mr. Baxter and two clerks returned to the room. The pimply clerk carried a tray with a teapot, three glasses, three plates, a cake, three forks, and a knife. The other clerk was a husky middle-aged man who easily carried a large stack of ledgers. Mr. Baxter directed both clerks to set their encumbrances on his desk, and then he bowed his leave of them.

  Mrs. Patton—with a speed that belied her age—went to the desk and poured three cups of tea and sliced three generous pieces of cake.

  “Lucinda,” she said, “please give Mr. Randall his tea and cake.”

  Lucinda, for once, did as she was told and delivered the refreshments to David. Her hand brushed his as she placed the cup of tea in his hand; David thought her skin felt surprisingly soft. She returned to the desk for her own, and they all sat in companionable silence while they ate. Lucinda was the first to finish eating, and she immediately made herself comfortable in Mr. Baxter’s chair behind his desk. She picked up the first ledger and set to work with a dedication that none of David’s employees ever reached.

  David leisurely finished eating his cake. Mrs. Patton did not leave even a crumb on her plate and then promptly dozed in her chair. David took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair; he was already starting to sweat from the heat of the day. He glanced at Lucinda, whose eyes were on him.

  “Admiring me, Lucinda?”

  “What could there possibly be for me to admire, David?” she said lightly, but her face was flushed and David was positive that it was not caused by the heat of the day.

  “Plenty,” David said, and winked theatrically at her.

  Lucinda bit her lower lip to prevent a smile and shook her head. She did not look up at him again, but instead focused on the ledger in front of her with renewed dedication. David leisurely picked up the next ledger on the stack and began to glance through it, looking for numerical discrepancies. He methodically checked the addition and the subtraction. He was not as mathematically gifted as Lucinda, or her father, both of whom could look at a column and come up with the sum in a matter of seconds.

  They continued to work for over an hour in complete silence, save for Mrs. Patton’s snores. Each ledger David examined was perfectly in order, much to his growing frustration. He was hot, and this audit was a waste of his time. He dropped the ledger onto the desk, and Lucinda looked up at the noise.

  “I believe we are finished,” he said. “Everything is in order. Baxter can dismiss Quill and we are done with this business.”

  Lucinda must not have liked craning her neck to look up at him, for she stood. “I only need another hour. Surely since we have come all this way, you can spare me one more hour?”

  “Have you found anything substantial?” he asked.

  Lucinda bit her lip again, and this time it was not to hide a smile. She shook her head slightly. “Something just doesn’t feel right.”

  “Your woman’s intuition?”

  “My business sense,” she countered. Her hands were clenched into tight fists as if she were ready to challenge him to a bout of fisticuffs if he refused her. If Lucinda felt that strongly about staying … he could certainly honor her request.

  “What is another hour of my time?” David said finally. “Besides, it would be most uncivil of us to wake Mrs. Patton from her nap.”

  Lucinda laughed and gave him a genuine smile. This smile was pure light, and for the first time since her return from school, David could see the girl he had once known.

  And that was when he realized how closely he was standing to her—close enough to feel her sweet breath on his face. Close enough to embrace her.

  He cleared his throat and stepped back, bumping a ledger off the desk. It hit the floor with a clatter. Mrs. Patton sat up ramrod straight and said, as if she had never been asleep, “Yes, this is quite a snug little office.”

  Lucinda took a step back. Had she been leaning toward him? “Isn’t it just?” she managed.<
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  David stooped down and picked up the dropped ledger, which turned out to be Mr. Baxter’s personal one. It had fallen open, and he examined the revealed page as he brought it back to the desk. He ran his finger over the final column, then compared it to the same page in the ledger Lucinda had been checking. The numbers in the clerk’s ledgers were not right. It was impossible for the numbers of the entire office and the individual records to be so discordant.

  He pointed to the final numbers. “Miss Leavitt, what do you make of this?”

  Lucinda stepped closer to him and bent her head next to his. As she did so, he caught the faintest scent of flowers. She peered at the ledger with her singleness of purpose.

  “There is nothing wrong with the other clerks’ ledgers,” she said at last, “because they started with false numbers. Fetch a paper and we will compare the real numbers to the false ones.”

  David found a sheet of hot press paper, sat at the desk, and picked up a pen. Lucinda read him row after row of numbers from Baxter’s ledger and then the numbers that were written in each individual clerk’s book. David carefully kept the numbers in corresponding rows. After Lucinda read the last one and David wrote it down, he said, “Give me a moment to total it all.”

  “No need,” Lucinda said from over his shoulder. “The difference is four hundred twenty-seven pounds, six shillings, and four pence.”

  David whistled softly. “That is a sizable amount of money.”

  “A small fortune,” Lucinda agreed.

  “Shocking,” Mrs. Patton added, “just shocking.”

  “What are we going to do now?” Lucinda asked, putting her hand on his shoulder.

  David tried not to notice how much her touch affected him. He stood up rather abruptly. “I shall take you and Mrs. Patton to the hotel, and then I will return here with a constable.”