Blame It on Bath Page 0,99
her husband, who gave her a significant nod. “Well . . . I’m sure we can come to an agreement. If it’s something of very dear interest to your family . . .” She put on a pious expression. “I’m sure my papa would wish to help you if he could.”
“Thank you, madam.”
Finally she allowed her husband to bundle her out the door. “Do call for help if you need it,” she called back.
Gerard stepped to the doorway and gave her a parting smile as Nollworth dragged her toward the house. “We shall.” He turned back to survey the mess once more. “Good God.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Carter carefully kicked a rusty pail out of the way. “You’re certain what you need is in here?”
“If I was, I would have given him the two hundred pounds for the lot and had it carted back to Bath.” Gerard set aside his hat and took off his jacket. “I understand if you cannot stay. Nollworth led me to believe it was a trunk or two full of books.” He had explained their goal on the ride to Allenton.
Carter shook his head, following Gerard’s lead and removing his coat and hat. “No, I’ve nothing to do in Bath. This is better than having Cora fret over me.”
Kate. Gerard’s eyes closed for a moment as the name Cora made him think of his wife. If only they’d been able to have a proper conversation before he left. If only he’d known what to say to her. If only . . . The best he could hope for now was that the right response would come to him as they worked, and he could patch things up with Kate when he returned to town.
“Let’s start with that one.” He kicked a nearby crate. “With any luck we’ll find it in there and can be on our way by morning.”
But it soon became clear that was not to be. The crate contained clothing and an odd collection of what appeared to be theatrical costumes. By the time they got to the bottom, without uncovering a single book of any kind, the air was thick with dust and the smell of mildewed wool. Gerard forced the door open all the way, and Carter opened the small, dirty window. The light was changing, shifting to long shadows, but Gerard had a feeling the whole structure would go up in flames if he lit the lantern hanging from a nail by the door.
Bragg returned from securing rooms at the nearby inn, and together they lifted down another crate. From the sheer weight of it, Gerard guessed it must have some books in it, but he was wrong; it was newspapers, sporting forms, betting slips, pamphlets, bills of every sort. Some was easy to discard, but there were letters interspersed with the rubbish, and he and Carter tried to make some sense of these before tossing them aside. He tried to sift through it as quickly as possible, but it was hopeless, given the waning light and the faded ink. He put down a stack and looked at his companions. Bragg had just finished repacking the first crate, and Carter was frowning over another letter, turning it on end to read the lines written crossways for economy. There was straw in his hair, and his shirtsleeves were almost black with grime. Gerard was sure he looked no better.
“Well, well, I see you’re getting on well enough.” Nollworth stood in the doorway, rubbing his hands.
Gerard got to his feet. “It would proceed a little faster if we could take things to a better place and examine them.”
“Not a one,” said Nollworth with a mean little smile. “My wife, you see, is very attached to her father’s things. Won’t give them up easily.”
“So far I’ve not found anything worth taking,” he muttered. “Carter?”
Carter caught his eye. “One man’s private effects.” He tossed the letter back into the open crate. “It should have been burned years ago.”
Nollworth scowled. “Then you won’t be back tomorrow, I expect.”
“You persuaded us to come all this way. We’ll be back tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after if we wish.” He reached for his coat. “I shall not be pleased, Mr. Nollworth, if you’ve brought us on a fool’s errand. If there are no ledgers or books in these trunks . . .” Gerard slapped his hat on this head. “You asked two hundred pounds for this dross. Some might call that extortion.”
The old man glared