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When I entered the office of the East India Company, I was met with the same scrawny git that had greeted me last time, when I’d come here with Amelia. I recalled him having a bit of an attitude. Before he could say a word, I spoke briskly.
“I would like to see Mr. Jennings.”
The man stared back at me, his expression unreadable.
“I’m sorry, sir, but he’s unavailable.”
I glared at him. Had he forgotten who I was since I was last here? It had barely been a week.
“Fine. I am a shareholder, and I need to investigate my account.”
The man looked almost put out by my request. I felt my mood turn even more sour. Wasn’t this his job?
“Your name?” He finally said with a hint of annoyance.
“Marsden.”
He jerked his head up slightly, as if the name meant something to him. I narrowed my eyes. Something about him was untrustworthy. But I had no choice but to deal with him, it seemed.
“Ah, Lord Marsden. Good morning. One moment please.”
He grinned superficially before unlocking a door behind the desk with an ornate key and disappearing into a back office. He returned moments later with a record book.
“What’s the problem?”
“I have reason to believe that a scheduled shipment has not been carried out.”
“Indeed, my Lord? I see no such thing here in the ledger.”
He stared at me, his expression blank. I felt my blood begin to boil.
"Are you telling me that I'm wrong?"
I noticed just the smallest wick of sweat on his forehead.
“My Lord, of course not, but…”
“Show me to my inventory, sir. I will see it myself.”
“Surely, my Lord, in this weather? I can assure you that any scheduled shipments have been carried out as ordered-“
“I want to see my inventory. Show it to me, or I shall make your life particularly miserable.”
I was not in a mood to play around, and the tone of my words conveyed just how little patience I had. The man’s placid expression finally broke for the briefest moment, revealing a hint of fear.
“Yes, my Lord.”
I could sense the trepidation in his voice. The entire situation seemed suspicious. Was there something he didn’t want me to see?
We strode along the docks, dark grey rain pounding against our umbrellas, until we arrived at the storage building. The man pulled out a key, unlocked the door, and then strode into the building before me. He led me to the location of my goods, and gestured to the stock, his expression blank once again.
“My Lord, your inventory.”
I stared past him. Trunks and trunks of opium stood before me, each embossed with the logo of the East India Company. Indeed, it was my inventory. I could recognize it in a second.
“Your ledger, sir.” I said curtly, my hand outstretched. I did not bother to look at him, my eyes still focused on the exotic drugs in front of me.
“My Lord?” He stuttered, clutching the ledger ever closer to him.
