Page 53 of Murder at Somerset House (A Wrexford & Sloane Mystery #9)

The morning dawned grey and gloomy. A light rain was falling as Wrexford left the house early to meet with Henning at his clinic and question some of the former soldiers who lived on the streets.

Charlotte, too, was up early and drafting a new drawing to calm the jittery public, while Raven headed out the door to the Sheffield residence to continue working with Cordelia on the mathematics for Ricardo to consider as he thought about whether he should form a syndicate to bid on the government loan.

It was some hours later before Cordelia looked up and put down her pencil.

“Hell’s bells. Please tell me you see something that I am missing,” she said. “For no matter how many creative ways I try to factor in all the variables Mr. Ricardo gave us and come up with a report that says it’s a wise strategy to fund the government debt, I simply can’t make the numbers work.”

Raven, who had been scribbling away on yet another sheet of paper, crumpled it up and threw it onto the growing pile littering the carpet.

“Sorry,” he intoned. “I’m having no better luck.”

“What’s the problem?” asked Sheffield, entering the room with a tray of tea.

“Bless you,” said Cordelia, closing her eyes and savoring a whiff of the jasmine-scented plume of steam rising from the pot.

“As for our dilemma, Ricardo is deciding whether he should put together a syndicate to bid on the government loan. However, our mathematics say the answer is a resounding no.”

She sighed. “I’ve sent him a preliminary report, which says just that. Though I did add that Raven and I would keep trying to see if we can make it work.”

“But numbers are numbers,” intoned Raven. “In the end, they don’t lie.”

A pinch of worry compressed Sheffield’s lips, but he poured the tea and passed it around before reacting. “That’s very troubling news.”

The three of them sipped their tea in silence, at a loss for anything halfway encouraging to say.

With each passing moment, their brooding seemed to be adding a leaden weight to the air.

“Halloo!” hailed a voice from the corridor. “It’s now official,” announced Ricardo as he entered the room. “Chancellor of the Exchequer Vansittart has announced that bids for the government’s ￡36 million loan must be submitted tomorrow.”

“I—I sent you our first draft early this morning,” stammered Cordelia.

“Yes, yes, and I see that your work—by the by, it’s excellent mathematics—leads to the conclusion that I should not form a syndicate to bid on the loan because it’s too risky.”

Cordelia nodded. “I’m sorry, sir, but that’s correct.

There’s simply no way to predict what the future will bring.

For example, even if we were military analysts, there is no basis to compute the odds of a victory by or defeat of Napoleon—or, for that matter, an infinity of possible other nondefinitive outcomes. ”

She expelled a sigh. “That feeds back into the uncertainty of how the outcomes would affect trading values of government securities, which adds even more risk into the situation.”

Another sigh. “And for what it’s worth, our intelligence gathering suggests that three of the syndicates who regularly bid on government loans have dropped out.

A fourth sounds very doubtful. That would leave only the syndicate led by Baring and Angerstein and your own group.

And our sense is that Baring and Angerstein may also much prefer not to bid. ”

“What we are saying, sir,” said Raven, “is that the mathematics show without a doubt that it’s too uncertain to warrant proceeding on any basis—other than perhaps pure patriotism.”

Ricardo smiled. “As I said, your mathematics are excellent and exceedingly elegant, and I don’t dispute your calculations. But what you are identifying as an irreconcilable problem is actually a grand opportunity.”

Cordelia and Raven exchanged confused looks.

“Precisely as you note, there are so many uncertainties that it is impossible for you or me to make any sensible calculation of the odds of a bet on the outcome of a battle with Napoleon. But for that very reason, I do know that I likely have no competitors for the loan, as they all analyze the situation exactly as you do.”

His smile grew more pronounced. “Moreover, the government, as the borrower, is, to say the least, eager to do the deal, as reflected in the price they will pay. And even though we have foiled the French plot to collapse the consol price, the market is trading at a considerable discount in reaction—one might even say overreaction —to the fact that a great battle seems inevitable.”

“So why—” began Sheffield, only to fall silent as Ricardo signaled that he hadn’t yet finished.

“Your mathematics show me that if Napoleon wins, I would lose a great deal of money if I make the loan. I sincerely hope that doesn’t happen.

But the numbers also show me that I wouldn’t be ruined,” continued their mentor.

“And should we defeat Napoleon, the windfall I will earn, given the market’s certain euphoria should we prevail, would far exceed any possible losses I am risking. ”

Raven’s puzzled frown slowly gave way to a grin. “So what you’re saying is that you know a good bet when you see it?”

“This is the bet of a lifetime, Master Sloane,” answered Ricardo. “I intend to proceed.”

“Bravo!” Sheffield inclined an admiring bow, first to Ricardo and then to Cordelia and Raven. “By ensuring the loan, you three have done everything in your power to give our country the chance of winning a momentous victory.”

He blew out his breath. “Now it’s all up to Wellington.”