Did you find out why hes here? she asked as Kate finished with her shoes and rose to take a critical look at the overall effect.
No. Dead mum about it, His Lordships man is, which Im thinking means he doesnt know. All I know is, Ned said later that he caught a glimpse into one of the bags, and it had a powerful lot of important-looking papers in it.
A solicitor, perhaps. Or a man of business. I wonder what he has to do with Jeremy, Angela murmured. Even more, what could it have to do with me? Well, I suppose the only way I shall find out is to go down there.
But Kate would not let her leave until she had fussed with her hair a bit, pinning in the strands that had come loose during Angelas walk. There, now you look beautiful.
Angela barely glanced at her image in the mirror. It had been many years since she fussed over her looks. All she cared about was appearing neat and ordinary. The latter was a difficult task for a woman with hair the color of burnished copper, she had found, but over the years she had made blending in an art form. She wore subdued colors and plain styles, and her hair was always done in a simple bun worn low upon her neck. She never wore any jewelry, except perhaps for a cameo brooch at her throat. Even her hands were without adornment, the nails clipped short and no rings upon her fingers.
She walked down to the library and knocked softly on the door. Jeremy answered, bidding her enter. When she stepped inside, Jeremy rose to his feet, as did the man who was sitting in the wingback chair across from him. Angela cast a quick, curious glance at the other man, noting that he was, as Kate had told her, not bad-looking, but perhaps a trifle rigid.
Angela. Jeremy smiled and went over to her to kiss her lightly on the cheek. You look in health.
As do you. This is a pleasant surprise.
Not so pleasant for Grandmama, I believe. He smiled. I thought she might eat me for arriving unannounced.
Is Rosemary with you? Angela asked as her brother led her toward the chairs.
No. Couldnt expect Rosemary to leave London during the Season. He stopped in front of his guest. Angela, Id like you to meet Mr. Pettigrew.
The man in question bowed stiffly to her, and they exchanged greetings. Almost immediately Pettigrew excused himself, saying that he was sure the Earl would wish to talk to his sister alone. Angela waited politely until the young man had left the room, then turned to her brother, eyebrows going up.
Jeremy what in the world is going on? What are you doing here in the middle of the Season? And who is that young man?
An American. An assistant to another Americanwhose name I dont know, he added darkly.
But what has it to do with me? Grandmama said you wished to see me.
It has a great deal to do with you. Well, with all of us, but you are the one who He stopped and sighed. Im sorry. I am telling this all muddled. I have been in such a state recently its a wonder I can make any sense at all. Here, sit down, and I shall start all over.
They sat down in the leather wingback chairs, facing one another, and Jeremy, taking a deep breath, plunged into his story. It started, oh, Im not sure, a year or two ago. Someone bought a portion of my share of the tin mines. We needed to repair the house in the city, and somehow Rosemary and I seemed to have an inordinate amount of expenses as well, and, anyway, I sold a goodly block, Id say about ten percent of the mine. Then, just this last year, I sold another portion of it, not that much. At the time, Niblett brought it to my attention that someone had bought others shares in the mine. You know, Aunt Constance had owned a part, and then it was split among her children when she died, and all of them sold their shares. There had been several sales like that. I thought it odd. Niblett didnt want me to sell any more, but I couldnt see any harm. It was not the same person who had bought the first amount I had sold, or so I thought, and the others had been sold to still other companies and people. So I sold another chunk, almost ten percent again. But three or four weeks ago, well, Niblett got this letter. It seems that a company in the United States claimed that it owned aa majority of the mine. It turns out that WainbridgeGrandfathers friend, you remember him, dont you?had sold this company his fifteen percent. And Tremontthats the name of the American companyowned all the other bits and pieces that had been sold over the years, too, including both the ones I had sold.
Angela gazed at him for a moment, assimilating the information. Finally she said, You mean that this American company actually controls our mine now?
Jeremy nodded, looking miserable. Im sorry, Angela. I dont know how it happened. Even Niblett was surprised. He knew there had been some activity, but he did not know that it was all being bought by the same company.
Is it so very bad? I mean, I understand that you are getting less money than before, but that would have happened even if different people had bought from you.
Yes, but Tremont now has control over the decisions. I do not. It can do whatever it wants with the mine.
I see. So if they make poor decisions, you will suffer.
We will all suffer.
Angela was well aware that this was true. She was completely dependent upon her brother, and her mother and grandmother largely were, also. Whatever wealth the Stanhopes had, had passed to Jeremy.
Of course. But is it so bleak? We cannot assume they will make bad decisions, can we?
According to the letter, they intend to close the mine.
Angela gaped at him. What? You cant be serious!
He nodded vigorously. I am. I couldnt believe it, either, at first. But this week Mr. Pettigrew showed up in London. Ive been meeting with him and Niblett and my solicitor. It is worse than bad. Its. Oh, God, Angela, this American practically owns me!
Mr. Pettigrew? Angelas voice rang with disbelief. But he seems so mild.
No, not him. Though he is not so mild when you are dealing with him in business. But I am talking about the company that bought the mine. It is owned by some American. I dont know who. I havent met the man. Mr. Pettigrew is merely his representative, and he refuses to say who the principal is.
But, Jeremy, this doesnt make any sense. Why would anyone buy a mine only to close it down?
I dont know! Thats what I argued. Pettigrew said that the mine simply was not producing enough. He showed me all these figures demonstrating how its production had gone down over recent years. Of course it has. Thats precisely why everyone was so willing to sell to Tremont. He went on and on about how we had been taking everything out of the mine and not putting anything back in. He talked about all the improvements that needed to be done to make the mine profitable again, though we had not used the profits to do so. We just took them out and spent them. You cant imagine how lowering it was to have to sit there and hear him point out how foolish I had been, all in that quiet, prim way. Of course, Niblett had said the same thing to me time and again, but I had never done what he advised. You know me. I never have had a head for business. I assumed that Niblett was just complaining. And, besides, we were always desperate for money. You know how its been with us. Rosemarys money wasnt enough to save us, and after He stopped, red flaring up in his cheeks. Well, that is, you know, we simply havent had the money.