Page 35 of A Debt Inherited

Kerr had read that last sentence three times.

Through friends.

He drew another paper from the small pile and set it apart.

The letter had returned that morning.

Its outer wrapper bore two hands: his own, careful and dark—

The Right Honourable Lord Ashby, Glenbride Castle, Berwickshire

—and beneath it, a clerk’s square notation:

Returned by direction of Lord Ashby.

The seal remained unbroken.

Kerr had not asked for money. Not recognition. Not affection. He had asked for an introduction to a London solicitor whose firm handled Scottish settlements and parliamentary private business.

One line from Lord Ashby would have done it.

His uncle had not refused him. Refusal would have required reading.

The wax showed whole and smooth, impressed with his own plain seal.

The clock in the hall struck eight.

A small sound came belowstairs: coal shifted in a scuttle, then the scrape of an iron door. Mr Price kept late hours because the kitchen fire carried more comfort than the parlour.

A knock came, low and brief.

“Come.”

The door opened only as far as necessity allowed. Price stood on the threshold with the coal account in one hand and a face that belonged to a man who had learnt to bring bad news without apology. He was not old, though hardship had put grey above both ears. His shoulders filled the coat too broadly for a gentleman’s servant; his hands had broken other things before they carried trays.

“You asked to see the coalman’s bill, sir.”

“I did.”

Price crossed the room and set the folded paper at the edge of the desk. His eyes did not stray to the correspondence. That recommended him more than obedience.

Kerr opened the bill.

The sum was not ruinous. That made it worse. Ruin announced itself. These little numbers arrived politely and found chairs.

“Has Mrs Price settled the butcher?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“Why not?”

Price’s mouth moved once. “She said as I was to ask whether Saturday would suit better.”

“Saturday will suit no better than Thursday.”

“No, sir.”

Kerr looked at the coal bill again. “Tell Mrs Price to pay him in the morning. The coalman may wait until next week.”