Kingsley gestured to a sheaf of papers on the desk. “What does the invoice say?”
Annie picked up the stack and thumbed through it. “From Galson, south of Kilmarnock. I guess some of the crofters are probably having a late season.”
“That is what it sounds like.”
“I wonder if the tobacco shipments will slow down when barley is done.”
Kingsley gave her a sharp look. “Why do you say that?”
“Because the tobacco is coming from the port of Norfolk, Virginia, the same place the barley is shipped to.” Annie rifled through the papers. “The invoices match one-for-one on shipments going out and shipments received.”
“May I see those?” He held out his hand.
She turned the items over. “Aye.”
“You are correct,” Kingsley said after he’d separated several invoices and laid them side by side, “although the number of barrels varies.”
“More tobacco comes in than barley goes out, but the prices reflect that.” She looked at Kingsley, feeling a bit anxious. “Imake sure I put the exact amount of money paid and the amount received.”
“I am sure you do,” he said reassuringly. “I did not mean to imply otherwise.” He handed the papers back. “It is not surprising larger quantities of tobacco are being imported. After all, the tobacco trade made a number of Glasgow businessmen quite wealthy.”
Annie nodded. “Virginia is much warmer than Scotland, and the planting season is longer.”
Kingsley gestured to the watercolor on the wall. “Plus, those plantations are a lot larger than the plots the crofters tend.”
Annie looked at the painting. “It looks like a beautiful place. I am sure Mr. Haines wishes he still owned part of it.”
Kingsley gave her another sharp glance. “Did he indicate that he would?”
“Nae. At least, I doona think he did.”
His gaze turned to the picture, his look thoughtful. Then he abruptly turned and went through the door to the warehouse.
Annie stared after him, perplexed. Then she shrugged and sat down at the desk. Sometimes men didn’t make sense at all.
****
“Do ye think the turmoil over the Sunday protest has died down?” Niall asked Aidan several days later as they stood on the dock, supervising the loading of the barley barrels from the warehouse onto one of Henderson’s ships bound for Virginia.
“Probably,” Aidan replied. “It’s been nigh unto two weeks. From what MacLean says, talk in the tavern is now centering on rising food costs due to the Corn Laws imposing a high tariff on grain imports.”
Niall gestured toward the ship being loaded. “And yet, Haines manages to export barley, which keeps the prices higher too. A wee bit ironical, nae?”
Aidan nodded. “The landowners keep getting wealthier while the industrial and manufacturing workers are barely scraping by.”
Watching as the last barrels were carried up the gangplank, Niall shook his head. “’Tis surprising the trade unions are nae calling for Haines’ head.”
“Unlikely. The tradesmen are too fond of their tobacco to lose one of its best distributors.” Aidan said. “Besides, he keeps the prices low for storing their wool and linen.”
“Aye, he is shrewd in that.” Niall turned his attention from the ship to Aidan. “Do ye really think Annie is safe working there?”
“Things seem to have quieted down,” Aidan replied.
“Seem?” Niall frowned. “Do ye sense something is nae quite right?”
“I am nae Lachlan.” Aidan shrugged. “I did nae see anything amiss when I was there.”
“I wish I had nae agreed to leave Annie at the door in the mornings.”
