Page 15 of An Earl’s Sacrifice (The Clandestine Sapphire Society #3)

Lucius rose from the desk. It appeared Thornfield required another face-to-face visit. What did it say about Lucius that he was spoiling for the confrontation? Plenty. If anything, perhaps a release of pent-up frustration as an image of his wife’s heart-shaped face floated before him.

Within minutes he was taking the trek down the hill through a mist that coated the heavy marine air.

Thankfully the rain held off. The vast view from Perlsea to the village could be considered breathtaking.

Not a term Lucius habitually used. The rugged Cornish landscape sloped gently toward the village, nestled in the valley below.

The sea air carried a freshness easily forgotten after a long stay in London and he drew in a deep breath along with a rare appreciation.

Once he reached Penhalwick, he rode past stone cottages and down narrow streets that formed a cluster at the center which culminated at St. Petroc’s.

Its stone bell tower stood as a silent guardian over the village itself.

Moments later, children spilled from the vestry, marking the end of the school day.

He watched for his wife, but she didn’t appear, and he moved on, the worn path taking him around the church.

The village sported a variety of shops, the busiest of which looked to be The Copper Kettle, a veritable hub of the small, picturesque community.

People strolled about, some hurrying into the apothecary and the general store, Penhalwick Provisions as the swinging wood sign above indicated.

Lucius kicked his mount into a trot more than curious for an idea of Thornfield’s direction over his workers.

On the outskirts of the village, Lucius could see the entrance to the mine, a dark scar in the otherwise peaceful landscape.

Smoke and dust rising faintly from its top was a stark reminder of the labor taking place inside.

He wondered how deep beneath the ground the mines went.

A shudder skittered over him. The farther from the village he went, the rockier the old mining path grew.

It was lined with twisted trees and tall grass, and in its own way, was picturesque.

Based on the schedule Thornfield had provided, the first shift changed at six in the evening.

Lucius pulled his horse to a stop before the office and dropped to the ground.

The yard bustled with activity. Those about took note of him, and slowly the chatter slowed then stopped, leaving only the rustling of the trees in a soft breeze that was unique to Cornwall.

With a sharp nod to the workers, he tied off the reins of his horse and entered the stone structure.

Oddly, inside where the same sense of chaos should have transpired, Lucius found the outer room unusually silent but for an altercation that bounded against the walls. Several clerks handling paperwork were doing their utmost to ignore the shouting coming from the open door behind them.

Thornfield’s office and Thornfield in quite the altercation.

“I’ve been telling you for weeks, Thornfield! That support beam in Tunnel Four is barely holding. If we don’t reinforce it now, we’re risking another collapse. Are you trying to bury these men alive?”

Something Lucius wouldn’t mind knowing himself. He moved to the door and leaned a shoulder against the frame. The two were so intent on one another, neither noticed him.

Thornfield’s hand clenched in a tight fist. “We’ve quotas to meet, Trevorrow. Delays are unacceptable. If you’re too soft to push your men, I can think of at least two others willing to step in your place,”—he snapped his fingers—“like that.”

Trevorrow’s face tightened into one of sheer disbelief. “Your disregard for safety boggles one’s mind.”

“Get out. This mine’s been running fine for years without your complaints.”

“If another collapse happens, the blood’ll be on your hands, you bastard. You think the men will keep quiet forever?”

“They will if they know what’s good for them,” Thornfield bit out through a stiffened jaw. “I said get out. You’re fired.”

But Trevorrow wasn’t finished. “They’re still talkin’ about little Tommy’s accident. That boy should’ve never been in the mine in the first place. Where was that goon of yours? Wasn’t he placed there to ensure no unauthorized persons crossed the threshold?”

“ I said get out .” Thornfield’s shout rattled the windows, sent the flames in the lighting flickering wildly.

Trevorrow slapped his hat against his thigh and spun. Then froze.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” Lucius straightened from the door jamb and entered the office. “What an enlightening conversation.”

Thornfield’s face shifted to a mask of fury. “How might I be of service, my lord? Were my reports not sufficient enough for you?”

“Funny you should ask, Thornfield.” Lucius acknowledged Trevorrow with an incline of his head. “Return to work, sir. I require a word with your superior.” Though he nearly choked on the word.

With a sharp nod, Trevorrow stormed out, his anger still evident.

Lucius closed the door with a sharp, controlled latch. “You failed in providing the ledgers that corresponded to your reports. In particular, those showing the actual income compared to the ore sold. I’d also like a look at the contract you signed with my father.”

The man’s sallow complexion blanched to the color of bleached stone.

Lucius strolled across the room and dropped into one of the tall, uncomfortable chairs. “Take your time pulling the information together. I’m in no hurry.”

Thornfield went to the door and barked out an order to one of the clerks then returned to his chair behind the desk.

“I expect Trevorrow will retain his position as foreman.”

“The man showed an abhorrence of disrespect,” Thornfield bit out through clenched teeth.

“It’s been my experience that respect is earned.” Lucius studied his gloved knuckles. “Respect begets respect per se.”

A muscle ticced in Thornfield’s cheek. “As I said, there are quotas to be met,” he ground out.

“I take it you keep accident reports.”

“Of course.”

“I’d like the full list of those as well. In fact, I would like to see them going back as far as 1824.”

“1824,” Thornfield repeated slowly.

The thought seized Lucius that perhaps Rathbourne and his own father had devised some scheme between them. “Yes. 1824.” He also had his doubts that the man’s contract was in the general files. “The contract now—if you please.”

Thornfield stared at Lucius for a long time, then removed one of the maps on the wall, exposing an old safe. Very old. He took a key from his waistcoat and slipped it in the lock. It took but a few minutes for him to retrieve the document and hand it to Lucius.

“Thank you.” Lucius stood. “I’ll take my leave as soon as I have the ledgers.”

With a nod, Thornfield marched to the door and barked another order.

Seconds later, ledgers in hand, Lucius went to the door.

He pushed it closed for one last bit of privacy, spearing the man with a cool look.

“I recommend, sir, that every precaution be taken to prevent any untoward mishaps among your workforce. I hope I am making myself clear?” He glanced down at the stack he held, then back up. “Until tomorrow then, Thornfield.”