When Love Awaits(27)

“What difference would it make?”

“Did you, Rolfe?”

“No,” he said curtly, “but I suppose you have learned why. Else why would you be badgering me like this?”

Thorpe grinned. “I see your mood is improving.”

“Do you have something to tell me or not?”

Thorpe shook his head. “We were wrong about her, you know. And she has been misled about you. It is up to the two of you to work together to clear things up, Rolfe.”

“Riddles, when I am lying here suffering.” Rolfe sighed. “Where is that cursed leech anyway? My hip feels as though there’s a fire in there.”

“No doubt, after all you’ve been through. As to Odo, he left two nights ago, fearful of losing his thumbs.”

“More riddles?” Rolfe said, exasperated.

“Your wife was very clear about what she would do to Odo if he caused you harm, and as it was Odo’s incompetence that nearly killed you…”

“You keep telling me I was at death’s door. With the leech gone, I suppose I have you to thank?” Thorpe was shaking his head emphatically. Rolfe’s eyes widened with sudden understanding. “She used her knowledge to make me well? To help me again? Why did you not tell me that before? Why, Thorpe, I do believe the lady is beginning to care for me.”

“I would not make too much of this,” Thorpe said hastily. “She may have saved your miserable life, but I believe it is simply her way to help others if she can. Don’t see more in it than you should. It will only cause you trouble later.”

But Rolfe was not listening. He was delighted. He was ecstatic. She had come to care for him. Did that mean he would soon be able to make her love him?

That question occupied Rolfe completely, until he fell into an exhausted sleep.





Chapter 26




LEONIE saw Erneis sneak out of the hall just as she entered it. For a long time she had tried to corner the Crewel steward, to talk with him about the accounts, but he was always in a rush to be somewhere, or else he could not be found. Why was he avoiding her?

She followed the little man outside the hall, stopping him just before he could disappear into the stable. “A moment of your time, Master Erneis.” He stopped, turning around as slowly as he could, making no effort to hide his reluctance to speak with her.

“Master Erneis, you were steward for Sir Edmond, were you not?”

“For several years, my lady,” he said, a little surprised by the question.

“Do you find the new lord of Crewel a hard master in comparison?” Leonie asked agreeably.

“No, indeed, my lady. Of course, Sir Edmond was much more…my lord Rolfe is very seldom here…”

He was becoming quite flustered, and Leonie took quick advantage of his confusion.

“I want you to give me the Crewel accounts, Master Erneis.”

“You?” His eyes narrowed. “What can you want with them?”

“My husband wants to see them.” The lie slipped out easily.

“But he cannot read either.” The man was no longer simply flustered, but alarmed.

Leonie smiled encouragingly. “He has little to do while he is recovering, Master Erneis. I suppose he wants to know what kind of profits he can expect from Crewel.” She shrugged, then added deliberately, “But being a soldier only come into property recently, he probably won’t understand the accounts. I suppose he will have his clerk read the accounts to him.”

“I can do that,” the steward insisted.

“But you are always so busy.”

“I will make the time.”

“That is unnecessary. His clerk has plenty of time.”

“But—”

Leonie lost her patience. “Do you argue with my lord’s orders?” she demanded.

“No, no, indeed, my lady,” he assured her quickly. “I will get them for you now.”

When he handed over to her the pitifully small stack of parchments, Leonie kept her surprise to herself. Household accounts were kept by the year, usually from Michaelmas to Michaelmas, which celebration was only a few months away. These records should contain nearly a year’s worth of expenditures and profits, but it looked like no more than a month’s worth had been recorded.

She took the accounts up to the small room she had been sleeping in, and looked them over carefully. It was worse than she had imagined. The steward was supposed to confer with the kitchen staff and the stable staff at the end of each day and record all supplies bought and the exact amounts paid. He was also supposed to record supplies used from stock, and all items delivered by the villagers in payment of rent. Any surplus sold from those rents was also to be recorded, as profit. Recorded, too, were sums paid for services, such as for transportation of goods to be sold, or work done by the smithy or other craftsmen beyond what they owed in rents. Every transaction was to be noted.

A daily accounting from Pershwick would list the amount of bread, grain, wine, and beer that had already been reckoned elsewhere in the accounts. Correct amounts would be noted as depleted from stock. Items bought from merchants or Rethel Town, such as pots, cloth, and spices, and all services rendered, were scrupulously recorded. Bought for the kitchen would be special cheeses, fish not stocked—few items, for Pershwick was well stocked and nearly all meat and fowl was provided from the manor. For the stable would be listed hay, oats, grass gathered, mostly all stocked as well, a major expense being the purchase of a horse or two to replace those who had become too old for service. These old horses were given to the poor.

Master Erneis had lists for the kitchen and stable, but only by the week. Worse, there was no listing of items, only notations of sums paid out each week. He recorded the villagers’ payment of supplies, but he showed only paltry amounts. No sales of surplus were recorded. But Leonie had seen grain and sheep and oxen and cattle delivered, then transported to Axeford Town for sale. Why was this never recorded?

That was bad enough. Worse were the totals for each week’s expenditures, ridiculous sums, thrice what she would spend in a month. These totals did not include supplies for Rolfe’s army, of that she was certain. Sir Evarard had told her that Rolfe was paying to have the army supplied directly from the towns nearest each keep.

Leonie had inspected the stores. She knew that while they were not abundant, much would be replenished when the harvesting began in a few weeks, and they were not depleted enough to explain the expenditures claimed.

Master Erneis was not doing his duty. That was plain.

Anger carried her back downstairs to look for the culprit. She enlisted two of the garrison soldiers to stay with her in case they were needed, but didn’t tell them why. She tracked the steward to the kitchens. Before she went in, she told the guards to stay outside.

Master Erneis looked surprised as Leonie entered the long narrow shed, the parchments in hand. “You return the accounts to me so soon, my lady?” He reached for them, but she held them away from him.

“Master Erneis,” she asked levelly, “where in these accounts are listed the horses you have purchased?”

“Horses?” The man frowned. “What horses?”

“The horses.” Her voice rose. “Surely you have bought dozens of horses.”

“I have ordered the purchase of not even one horse, my lady. What made you think—”

“No horses? I am mistaken, then. Did you purchase baubles for my lord to give the lady Amelia?”

“My lady, please.” Erneis drew himself up indignantly. “I have never bought trinkets for ladies, nor has Sir Rolfe ever bid me do so. What has he said about these accounts to make you question—”

“What might he say?” she interrupted.

“My lady?”

“Where are the monies kept that you use for the household, Master Erneis?”

He frowned. “There is a locked chest in one of the storerooms.”

“And my husband replenishes the store of coins when needed?”

“That has not been necessary thus far. He left ample—”

“How much?”

“My lady?”

“How much money did he give you to run this household?” she asked sharply.

“Several…hundred marks,” he replied uneasily.

“How many hundred?” she asked softly.

“I do not—”

“How many?”

He fidgeted, casting glances over his shoulder at the cook and his helpers, who were looking on curiously. The questioning was sounding more and more like an interrogation.

“Eleven or twelve hundred,” Erneis said evasively. “I do not recall exactly. But, my lady, I do not see why this concerns you—unless you wish to buy something. If that is the case, I would be more than happy—”

“I am sure you would,” she said curtly. “So I may assume that what you have not spent from the funds my husband gave you is still within the locked chest?”

“Of course, my lady.”

“And the rest accounted for in these?” She raised the papers slowly and held them in front of his face.

“Indeed, yes.”

“Then you will not object to having your quarters searched before you are turned out of Crewel, will you?”

Erneis blanched. “My lady? You—ah—I misunderstand your meaning, I think.”

“I think not,” she replied tightly. “You have been able to lie to my husband about the accounts because he is a man of war and not used to running an estate, so he cannot be expected to know the expenditures involved. But you were a fool to think you could hoodwink me. I am not an idle woman. I have been my own steward for several years. I know exactly what it costs to run a household this size, down to the last coin.” His eyes widened, and she smiled. “I see the light is dawning for you, Master Erneis.”