Page 4 of The Incident at Ingleton (Beau Monde Secrets #3)

W alter cast a quick look around the library, though it was clear he’d beaten Ivy to the room. He was alone, without even the crackle of a fire to disrupt the hush. According to Ivy, Lord Inglewhite used this room as his office when in residence. With him away, the large wooden desk was bare of papers, documents, or books. Maybe that was why the emptiness of the room felt so oppressive.

Feeling too restless to sit down while he waited, Walter paced back and forth in front of the empty hearth. When the door swung softly open, he turned around. Tension he hadn’t even noticed seeped out of his neck and shoulders when he saw it was only Ivy.

“Thank you for being willing to speak to me.” He did not whisper, but he kept his voice low, not wanting anyone walking past the library to overhear.

“What is all this about?” Ivy frowned as she tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. “You’ve been quite vague about what brought you to Ingleton.”

“Yes, and I don’t know that I can be any clearer now,” Walter admitted. “All I have are questions and suspicions, not evidence. And it’s only a matter of shillings and pounds. Not the end of the world either way. There may be no need for anyone outside the board to ever know about the crime.”

Unless, of course, the money had been embezzled by someone alive and well and intent on committing further crimes. As much as Walter wished the home could just brush the matter under the rug and forget about it, he worried that other charitable organizations or businesses would suffer if the board simply ignored the theft.

“But what makes you suspect—” Before Ivy could say more, the sound of galloping feet made them both look towards the door. “The children are playing hide-and-seek today,” Ivy explained. “I’m supposed to be playing with them.”

“I won’t keep you from your game,” Walter promised. “But since I am here and can speak unreservedly for a moment, I’d like to ask you to keep your eyes and ears open to anyone talking about philanthropy or charitable organizations. Let me know if you hear anything suspicious, will you?”

“Of course.” Ivy frowned. “But why does the board suspect—”

He interrupted her, wanting to be precise in his wording. “ Suspect may be too strong a word. Let’s just say the board is asking questions about who pilfered the money, and why.”

“I should think the why would be obvious,” Ivy pointed out. “Doesn’t everyone need money?”

Walter shrugged. “I suppose so, but embezzling so little money hardly seems worth it. Unless we have an enemy. Someone with other motives for the theft, I mean.” He couldn’t imagine who might bear a grudge against the Haworth Home for Orphans, but he also couldn’t afford to overlook that possibility.

Ivy raised her eyebrows. Walter needed no words to interpret the skepticism on her face. But before she could elaborate further, Lady Phoebe poked her head into the room.

“Aunt Ivy! I found you!” she said triumphantly. She stared at Walter, blinking. “Who are you?”

“This is my cousin, Mr. Haworth,” Ivy explained. “He’s visiting us for a while, because his physician recommended he take a country holiday.”

It certainly sounded plausible, except that if Walter wanted nothing more than time in the country, he could have gone to Northcote Manor, which was much closer to Bristol. Spending a few weeks at Northcote would have made his father happy, too.

“And I wanted to be on hand in case Rose—Lady Francis, I mean—needed any help during her confinement,” he added. That ought to be explanation enough.

Ivy snickered and sent Walter a speaking glance. “Much help a young bachelor would be! What do you know about pregnancy or childbirth?” She said it affectionately, though. “Why don’t you come play hide-and-seek with us?”

“Um.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d played hide-and-seek with anyone. He saw his sister’s son occasionally, but little Ned was only just old enough to begin playing games more complicated than Peek-a-Boo.

“Please, Mr. Haworth?” Lady Phoebe clasped her hands together in petition. “There are ever so many hiding places on the first story!”

In the face of such enthusiasm, what could he do but agree? “Very well.”

Walter followed Ivy out the room, but before the door closed shut behind him, he heard a faint rustle. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw the drapery move, as if someone or something were sitting behind it.

He turned half-way around and stared at the curtain, wondering if one of the children had been hiding in the room. Rather an unpleasant prospect, that. But the drapery remained motionless, and he could hear nothing louder than his own breathing. Maybe a draft in the room had moved the curtain.

What did it matter, anyway? Neither he nor Ivy had said anything the least bit incriminating. He’d spoken as vaguely as possible, precisely because he had no idea whether they’d be interrupted. So far as he remembered, neither of them had mentioned Neville Butler by name.

“Are you coming, Walter?” Ivy poked her head back through the open door.

“Oh, yes. Very sorry. I was woolgathering.” He let the door click shut behind him and followed his cousin back to the first story so he could join in the next round of hide-and-seek.

*

Walter discovered that Neville Butler was surprisingly hard to pin down. The curate had been out of town when Walter arrived, and when he returned, he seemed to run from one corner of the parish to another on various errands. Since his brother-in-law was a clergyman, Walter thought he knew something about clerical life. Apparently, he was mistaken. When Neville Butler and Frank Bracknell talked about their parish duties, Walter could understand only half of it, at best.

Walter had been at the castle for a week before Butler finally found time in his busy schedule to meet with him. Even then, the curate showed up nearly a quarter of an hour late. He arrived at the castle flushed and grimy, mopping sweat from his brow.

“Terribly sorry about the delay.” Butler smiled apologetically. “I was visiting a shut-in and I could not for the life of me get her to stop talking. I suppose it’s understandable when one gets few visitors, but...” He shrugged as he took the seat Walter indicated.

They met in the library, since the room was not in use. There were, of course, many rooms in the castle that would have done just as well, but Walter thought the business-like setting best fit the nature of this conversation.

“You’re probably wondering why I wanted to talk to you,” he began.

But Mr. Butler grinned at him. “Since you’re a Haworth, and I used to be the chaplain at the Haworth Home for Orphans, I’m going to assume this has something to do with that institution. Am I right?”

“Yes, in a manner of speaking.” Walter drew a clean handkerchief out of his pocket, took off his spectacles, and began to clean the lenses. They were not in the least bit smudged, but he’d learned this trick as a legal clerk. Cleaning his glasses provided an excuse to evade someone else’s gaze, which made it easier for Walter to conceal any reactions he didn’t want to reveal. Of course, it also prevented him from studying Butler’s expression, but he was willing to accept that trade-off.

“The board had some questions about who handled the management of the home last year,” he explained. “We know the matron, Mrs. Fairfax, had been ill off and on for some time. Did someone else step in to manage things?”

Butler rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. “Well, that depends on which things you mean. I believe the housekeeper and the teachers took on some of the children’s care when Mrs. Fairfax was indisposed. Other duties probably were neglected to some extent.”

Walter lifted his chin, replaced his spectacles, and nodded. “That makes sense.” It also matched what the housekeeper and the instructors reported. “Did the housekeeper handle the paperwork, too? For example, keeping track of expenditures?”

A line formed between the curate’s brows. “Not usually. Some of it I handled for Mrs. Fairfax. Some of it Miss Eversley handled—she’s the senior teacher, you know. Or was during my time.”

“Ah, yes. She holds the same position now.” It hadn’t occurred to Walter to talk to Miss Eversley, because he had been under the impression that the teaching staff had nothing to do with the financial management of the home. He’d have to remedy that as soon as he could or ask Ernest to talk to Miss Eversley for him.

Butler’s admission that he’d sometimes handled the expenditures seemed far more important. “Did you ever help balance the account books?” Walter asked the question as casually as possible, but he kept his eyes fixed on the curate’s face.

Butler frowned and looked off to the side, as if trying to remember. “Balance them? No. But I did sometimes record expenditures. Normally, Mrs. Fairfax managed the ledgers, but her eyesight weakened in the last years of her life, so she often had someone else do it. I believe you’ll find that the housekeeper, Mrs. Johnson, also kept track of purchases.”

This, too, matched what Walter had already heard. “Was there anyone else who handled the ledgers? Or had access to them?”

“Had access to them?” Butler raised his eyebrows. “The office door was rarely locked, so anyone could have looked at them. It’s possible that Miss Eversley helped with them; I don’t know that for certain. I believe Mrs. Johnson usually kept the accounts during Mrs. Fairfax’s illness, though.” He frowned. “Why do you ask?”

Walter listened intently. Butler’s voice sounded steady, unflustered. Walter detected neither anxiety nor anger in his tone. But the way the curate played with the buttons on his jacket could hint at nervousness. And Walter noticed that Butler kept glancing away from him, rather than making steady eye contact.

“We’re just trying to get things back in proper order at the home,” Walter lied. “All the paperwork in the office seems to have been left at sixes and sevens. Of course, the children were always well-cared for, even when Mrs. Fairfax was indisposed.”

“I should hope so!” Butler sounded genuinely dismayed. “I can assure you, I saw no indication that any of the orphans were neglected or ill-treated. No matter how sick the matron was, someone made sure they were looked after.”

Walter nodded. “Good to know. I suppose matters did not slip so much after all.”

“Have you any more questions, Mr. Haworth? I’ve no more meetings today, so I am quite at your disposal.” Butler looked him in the eyes and smiled angelically.

“No more questions.” Walter returned the smile as benevolently as possible. “If I do think of anything, I’ll be in touch.”

He did still have questions, but he could scarcely ask Butler outright if he had embezzled money from the orphanage. Naturally, the former chaplain would deny that. In confirming that Butler had the opportunity to doctor the books, Walter had achieved his objective. For now, at least.

“Please do let me know if there is any way I can help. I know that Mrs. Fairfax’s death was a great loss to the home. But I hope the new matron is working out?” Butler’s rising voice made a question of it.

Walter nodded. “I believe she struggled a bit at the beginning, but she’s found her footing quite well by now.” That was an understatement, since the new matron had, in fact, been the one who noticed the discrepancies in the old ledgers. If not for Miss Miller’s attention to the orphanage’s finances, no one would ever have noticed the crime.

For a moment, Walter wished the pilfering had gone undetected. Would it really do any good to know that money had been taken, if the board couldn’t definitively prove who took it? On the whole, he might rather not have known. And he certainly would rather not have been called in front of the board and grilled about the theft! He’d been fortunate in having two of the board members on his side, but he hadn’t known that going into the meeting.

“Well, if you ever do need my help, you have only to ask. Haworth Home is near and dear to me.” Butler smiled, but his eyes looked surprisingly cold. “If that is all?”

“Yes, yes, you may be on your way,” Walter told him. “I’ll be staying here at the castle for the next few weeks, so if I do think of anything, I’ll be sure to ask.”

Butler’s eyes widened for a brief second. Then he collected himself. He smiled again, though this smile, like the last one, did not reach his eyes. “I’m sure I’ll see you around, then. Good-day, sir.”

The moment he left the room, Walter pulled out his notebook and began jotting down details of the conversation. He had no particular talent for sniffing out a lie or reading people’s hidden intentions, but some of Butler’s reactions seemed odd. He seemed almost dismayed to hear that Walter would be lingering in the area. And that was very interesting indeed.

Walter tucked his notebook back into his pocket and took a quick glance around the room, making sure he hadn’t disturbed anything or left anything behind.

He noticed that this time, the drapes in front of the windows had all been tied back, letting bright spring sunlight into the room. If that was how they were usually left, why had the curtains been pulled shut over the window seat the last time Walter was in the room?

Maybe there really had been an eavesdropper. Strange that whoever-it-was hadn’t revealed themselves as soon as they realized they were overhearing a private conversation. Strange, and potentially troubling. Once again, Walter felt relieved that neither he nor Ivy had discussed any explicit details of his investigation. No one listening in would have the faintest clue what they were talking about. He hoped it stayed that way.