Reckless Rules (Brambridge Novel 4) by Pearl Darling Read Free Book Online Page A

worldly trappings. His round and well fed frame, however, belied that fact.
    Victoria had already investigated Mr. Robertson and many of his ilk. His offences of gluttony were minor compared to some of the abuses of funds she had found at other establishments. It was the only reason she tolerated the man.
    “I am sure you told me last month that there were two hundred and eighty-four paupers here?” Victoria bit into the dry biscuit that had accompanied her watery tea and chewed valiantly through its sawdust-like texture. It helped, just, to take away from the pungent smell of cabbage that pervaded the room. She raised her eyebrows delicately at Mr. Robertson and took a small sip of her tea. His smile faded slightly and he glanced down at his paper as if looking for support. “In fact, I thought you said to me that the forty parishes were clamoring to send you more paupers, and that you never turned a ‘poor soul’ away?”
    “Yes, we did have… how many did you say?”
    “Two hundred and eighty-four.”
    “Two hundred and eighty-four paupers here last month, but, err...” Mr. Robertson stammered.
    Victoria took another sip of tea and held his gaze.
    “Wait. I will ask Mrs. Prident to help me with your request.” Mr. Robertson heaved himself off the chair and moved ponderously to the door of the visitor’s room.
    Out of the corner of her eye, Victoria watched as the door opened imperceptibly before Mr. Robertson had even laid his hand on the door handle.
    “Ah! Mrs. Prident,” Mr. Robertson exclaimed in relief as a thin, dour lady stepped through the door. Victoria took in her appearance whilst being careful to keep her gaze blank and non-interested. Just because this lady was thin, didn’t mean to say that she too wasn’t salting away some of the funds herself. It was obvious she had been listening at the door; she was either Mr. Robertson’s loyal assistant or was keeping tabs on him.
    “Yes, Mr. Robertson.” Mrs. Prident entered the room without waiting for a welcome and took a seat on one of the hard chairs in front of an empty fireplace.
    “Mrs. Prident, I was wondering if you would be so good as to tell me why last month we had… err…”      
    “Two hundred and eighty-four,” Victoria prompted.
    “Two hundred and eighty-four inmates, I mean paupers, and this month we have two hundred and… and…”
    “Two hundred and eighty-one inmates, sir?” Mrs. Prident said, a Scottish burr just traceable in her voice.
    Mr. Robertson smiled weakly. “Yes, thank you, Agnes.”
    “Old Higgedy died of consumption and was buried a sennight ago. Lason and Dimble were taken on as staff to Lord Stanton’s household on Lady Colchester’s recommendation.”
    Mr. Robertson nodded and smiled at Victoria. “Fount of information our Mrs. Prident.”
    “And we received two new paupers from Westminster and Stockwell.” Mrs. Prident remained sitting staunchly upright and folded her arms across her chest.
    “There you have it, Lady Colchester. A fine account of our people movements over the month. Well done, Agnes.”
    Mrs. Prident did not even move her lips or smile. She remained gimlet-eyed, focusing on Victoria, who couldn’t help feeling that Mrs. Prident was testing her. She shifted her gaze to the fireplace and studied the scallop design on the guard. Then she deliberately stared at Mr. Robertson.
    “If I might point out, Mr. Robertson…” No, that was too direct. Victoria knocked over her cup of tea with a practiced flap of her arm and stood up sharply as the water ran across the stained mahogany table. “Oh silly me!” she exclaimed, looking frantically about her.
    “Never mind, Lady Colchester, please do let me clear it up.” Mr. Robertson stood and dabbed ineffectually at the water with a large handkerchief.
    Victoria glanced at Mrs. Prident, who had continued to stare at her, but who now wore a small smile at the edges of her mouth. She sat down again and sighed. “Dear me, I am so