Page 58 of A Foolish Endeavor

“Ah, yes. A Mr. Gordon manages the sundries shop. In truth, I have never cared for that man. I feel a need to count my change carefully whenever I buy something there. I also find Mr. Gordon’s obsequious manner towards me quite annoying.” Evan toyed with his penknife, considering his words. “As for the milliners, well, I am not as familiar with that business. How long do you think it may be before you determine if there is, for absolute certain, some scurrilous activity?”

“Another day or so?” Gilbert guessed. “Once I do determine the truth of it, how shall I handle it, Father? I shall be so angry I shall wish to go and thrash the cheating rogues.”

“I fully understand, although that would not be productive. When you have the proof you need, come back to me and we shall determine the best course of action together.” Evan studied his son with a half smile. “I am proud of you, Gilbert, not only for offering to assist the Slades, but in using your mind so well as to discover this potential fraud. You are to be commended, and I am certain the Slade family will be most grateful.”

Gilbert felt his face flush at the rare compliment—it had been a long while since his father had spoken so highly of him. Thinking of his own past behavior this summer, Gilbert felt his eyes moisten at such praise.

“Thank you, Father. I… I know I have been a great disappointment to you and the family since returning from University. I wish to redeem myself somewhat in your estimation and, while I still have no firm plans as to my future, once I settle these accounts, I promise you that I shall give serious thought to what I shall do.”

“We can discuss all that in due time, son,” Evan said with a kind nod and a dismissive wave of his hand. “Go along now; I shall see you at dinner.”

Gilbert left the library, feeling lighter in heart and spirit than he had in some time.

Chapter Forty-Five

The next day, Gilbert arrived at the Slade residence directly after breakfast. Molly, the maid, showed him to the library, explaining that Miss Slade was upstairs with her father and the physician. Disappointed, Gilbert thanked Molly and set to work on the ledgers.

Some twenty minutes later, Gilbert heard sounds coming down the stairs and the muffled voice of Nancy and Dr. Baker. He did not wish to intrude but left his work to stand by the entrance to the study. When he heard the final goodbyes, signaling the physician’s departure, he opened his door to see Nancy holding a handkerchief to her face, weeping softly. Unable to hold back as he had yesterday, Gilbert stepped forward and gently placed an arm about her shoulders.

“Oh, Nancy, what news? Why do you weep so? Is there nothing Dr. Baker can do to help your father?”

Nancy pushed herself back a step, shook her head, and smiled up at Gilbert. “Forgive me for alarming you. These are tears of happiness, for Dr. Baker has just told me that he believes Papa did not suffer a stroke, but only a head injury from his fall. He will make a full recovery.”

Gilbert gave a whoop of joy and hugged Nancy, lifting her high and swinging her around the entry. She gave a little gasp, and, hearing it, he set her down and stepped back, bowing to her.

“I beg your pardon for embracing you thus, Nancy,” he said stiffly. “I ought not to have been so forward. I was only so pleased at your report I could not help myself. Pray, forgive me.”

His formal manner had a similar effect upon Nancy, who stood, hands folded at her waist, with lowered eyes. “Of course, you are forgiven, Gilbert. I would be a poor friend, indeed, if I did not appreciate that you share in my happy news.”

Gilbert felt a surge of pleasure at her words. “Then, we are still friends?”

She raised her eyes to his and replied, “Of course we are, and I hope it may ever be thus.” She placed one hand gently on his forearm and continued, “I must go to the apothecary now, to ask for a medicine Dr. Baker has prescribed, but I shall not be gone long. I would like to… that is, would you care to lunch with me today? Our cook has a very good fish she will prepare.”

“Nothing would please me more, Nancy, thank you.” He placed his own hand over hers and gave a gentle squeeze. “I am so very glad for you and your father. Now, I must return to my work. I feel I may have some answers for you very soon.” He lifted her hand and kissed it, noting the blush that rose in her freckled complexion. “Until luncheon.”

“Until then,” she said, turning to gather her things for her errand. At the front door, she paused and smiled warmly at Gilbert, then departed.

Gilbert stood in the hall a moment longer, then reentered the study. After closing the door behind him, he clapped his hands together and gave a little dance of satisfaction before returning to his accounting.

Over lunch, which was set up in the formal dining room—an elegant space with dark furniture and two large paintings of Italian landscapes on the walls—Gilbert had intended to keep the conversation light and away from the accounts. When Nancy asked how it was going, he said only that he believed he was making progress, but that he preferred to explain it all to her once he understood everything.

“May I ask your permission to remove some of your father’s ledgers and show them to my own father? He has a good deal of experience with accounting for our estate, of course, and he may spot something I may have missed. I will show them to no other person, I promise.”

Nancy considered the request for a moment before replying, “If you believe that is best, then, yes, Gilbert, by all means, take them with you. I know that Papa would have no qualms about it and would be most grateful for all that you are doing.”

“You have not told him that I am helping?”

“Not yet. He has only quite recently become less confused enough to comprehend what is going on, Gilbert. You see, at times, he does not even realize what time of year it is—for just the other day he mentioned how warm it felt for December. Then, the very next day, he was raging about how it was the end of May and he must get up from his sickbed to collect the monthly earnings from his businesses. I was able to convince him that he had already done so, fortunately, but I am afraid that if I were to tell him you are examining the books, he might suddenly accuse you of stealing from him—he is that capricious at present. His mind slowly grows clearer, however, and Dr. Baker has every hope of Papa being his usual self by the autumn.”

“But what of the money? Have you been the one collecting the earnings from your businesses?” Gilbert asked.

Nancy shook her head. “I thought to do so, but I did not know how to account for it properly, so when one of the managers suggested he just give me the written tally of the profits and keep the actual cash safe until Papa can return to work, I thought it a very good idea and made the same arrangement with all the managers. That is why the last several weeks are not even accounted for in the ledgers, but the profits only written down on slips of paper. I do apologize. I only hope I haven’t erred in my judgement—Papa would be so upset with me.”

Gilbert nearly pressed her for more information, but, instead, seeing she was becoming anxious, chose to change the topic. “Speaking of money, Nancy, do you recall the day we found a shilling in the gutter when we were youngsters?” he asked.

Nancy laughed, her worried face blossoming into one of happiness. “I do, indeed, for it seemed such a fortune at the time. I recall what we spent it on, too—so many sweets that we made ourselves quite ill.”

“As I recall, you initially wanted to spend your share in a far more practical manner and buy some hair ribbons. I was the one who persuaded you towards spending it all at the sweetshop. I ought to have let you have your way.”