added to her annoyance with him and made her all the more determined to thwart him. He was a thorn in her side. For the first time in her life she was being illogical and unbusinesslike, but she could not help it. She did not care what it cost, she wanted that new adit.
‘If you do not mind my saying so, Miss Cartwright,’ the engineer said. ‘You are thinking like a woman.’
‘I am a woman, Mr Bailey.’
‘So you are, but you have always figured things out like a man, pros and cons, objectively.’
‘And who is to say that I am not being objective now? The deep level is causing problems with flooding, so we need to abandon that and sink another. There is lead down there, you know it as well as I, and lead commands a very high price, so we weigh that up against the cost of bringing it to the surface and we arrive at the conclusion that it will take less than three years to make a handsome profit. And it will give work to many.’ Even while she was arguing with him, she was picturing Roland Temple, Earl of Amerleigh, standing where the engineer was standing now, telling her he would have his land back. When she had extracted all she could from the mine, she might offer to sell it back to him at a highly inflated price. She wondered if he would try to raise the money or give up. Why did she sense the Earl was as stubborn as she was? And why, oh, why did it matter?
Charles Mountford, who had been the family lawyer ever since the late Earl had inherited the title twelve years before, was in his forties, dark haired, dark eyed and dressed in black. He had been expecting his lordship, he said, after the usual greetings had been exchanged. ‘Please take a seat.’ He indicated a chair placed on the other side of his desk, then he sat down and began shuffling papers. ‘May I offer condolences on the demise of your father,’ he said. ‘And congratulations on your coming into your inheritance.’
‘And what exactly is my inheritance?’ Roland asked him. ‘Apart from the title, that is.’
‘Amerleigh Hall and its domain—very little else, I am afraid.’
‘I thought as much. Tell me what happened. My mother said something about a lawsuit.’
‘Yes, that has been unfortunate.’
Unfortunate for whom? Roland wondered; not for the lawyers, he was sure, but he did not speak aloud. ‘Tell me how it came about.’
The man coughed as if reluctant to begin, then, seeing Roland’s look of impatience, made a start. ‘The estate had not paid its way for many years, harvests had been poor and taxes heavy on account of the war, and in order to recoup the late Earl invested in stocks that he hoped would make a quick profit, but they failed, leaving him with heavy losses.’
‘Did you advise him to buy them?’
‘No, I did not.’ The man was outraged by the suggestion. He was very small and wiry and his bony hands were continually on the move as he spoke. ‘I do not know who advised him. It might have been Cartwright, but if he did, he did not take his own advice, or he was high enough in the instep to absorb the loss. As soon as I heard what had happened, I begged his lordship to retrench, but he would not. He continued going on as he always had, entertaining lavishly, buying the latest fashions for her ladyship, maintaining horses and hounds—for he was Master of the Hunt—and gaming. The more his pocket pinched, the more he gambled and the more he lost.’
‘And all this happened in the last six years?’
‘No, my lord, it started while you were at university, but he would not have told you of it even if you had been at home.’
Roland acknowledged the truth of that. ‘So when Cartwright came along with a lifeline, he seized it?’
‘Yes. Unfortunately he did not envisage you would not agree to the arrangement. Naturally, Cartwright demanded the money back. The Earl did his best, sold off a few paintings and ornaments and managed to find the initial capital, but Cartwright refused it. He wanted a vast amount of interest as well. He was a businessman, he said, and money was a commodity like anything else and should make a profit. Your father had deprived him of the profit he expected, namely a title for his daughter, so he was entitled to make it another way. He offered to expunge the whole debt in exchange for Browhill. The strip of land was nothing but heather and scrub, so I advised his lordship to agree. Soon after that Cartwright began successfully mining for lead…’
‘Poor Papa. That must have galled him. According to my mother he thought he had been tricked into parting with the land and Cartwright knew there was lead there even before he suggested taking it. Is that true?’
‘I have no way of knowing. It was enough that your father believed it. He thought if he could recover the land and take over the mine, the profits would be enough to set all to rights. After all, there was a war on and lead was needed for ammunition, not to mention for roofing, piping and paint.’
‘Are you still pursuing the suit?’
‘I have had no instructions to the contrary. Of course, if you should instruct me otherwise…’ He stopped to look enquiringly at Roland.
Roland had been prepared to drop it, but the notion that his father had been bullied into agreeing to the transaction when he was far from well made him hesitate. ‘Tell me, when the bargain was made, was it wrapped up tight? No loopholes?’
‘That is what we have been endeavouring to discover, but Cartwright was far from co-operative and I have no reason to think his daughter will be any more so. My dealings with her have led me to believe she can be stubborn. And as money means nothing to her…’
‘On the contrary, I think it means everything to her.’
Mountford gave a twisted smile of acknowledgement. ‘She has that from her father. He made a fortune trading cotton, sugar and slaves.’
‘So she would not mind losing a few pounds fighting me.’
Mountford shrugged. ‘Who is to say? Do you want me to continue with it?’
‘I will think about it and let you know. Now, what about the house and its contents? Could they not have been saved?’
‘As soon as the Earl’s problems became common knowledge, the dunners were on the doorstep. Tailors, vintners, jewellers, saddlers, butchers, those he has lost to at the tables, not to mention estate workers and servants, all turned up, wanting to be first in line for whatever was going. I was obliged to advise his lordship that simple retrenchment was not enough.’ It was said apologetically. ‘He stubbornly refused to sell, but in the end he did allow himself to be persuaded into moving into the dower house, letting it be known it was on medical grounds and as soon as his health recovered he would return to the main house. The Hall was put up for rent, but no one came forward and he was obliged to realise whatever assets he still had, except the house itself and the rest of the estate, to pay everyone off.’
‘And have they all been paid?’
‘I believe so, yes.’
‘That, at least, is a relief.’
‘If I were you, my lord, I would endeavour to sell,’ Mountford went on. ‘There must be someone who has the blunt to restore the place.’
Roland was reminded of Charlotte Cartwright. How she would crow! She might even put in a bid herself. He would not give her the opportunity. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I am surprised at you suggesting such a thing. I will bring it about myself.’
The man gave him a tired smile. ‘It will cost a great deal.’
‘I am aware of that,’ he said, standing up to leave. ‘I will find the wherewithal.’
His next call was at a tailor’s shop where he bought two new coats, two waistcoats, pantaloons in superfine and riding breeches in soft leather, several shirts, a dozen muslin neckcloths, and a pair of Hessians, arranged for them to be delivered, then he returned to Amerleigh, and, with Travers, set off to inspect his domain.
The estate was large and included dairy farms on the lower ground and sheep