Page 38 of A Debt Inherited

Kerr crossed to the escritoire. Two letters lay there. One bore the seal of Armitage & Co. The other he did not recognise.

The clock in the passage struck six. Outside, a costermonger called pears in the street; the cry wavered like a bird trapped in a cage. Price went down to the kitchen, his tread measured. The house was quiet enough to hear the flap of a moth against the glass. Kerr loosened his cravat, looked at the letter, and thought he might wait till after supper. Bad news had no need of haste.

Supper was plain and quickly done—cold beef, a heel of bread, and a glass of ale drawn too warm from the cask. Mrs Price hovered by the door till he nodded his thanks, then withdrew with the tray. The clatter of plates softened down the stair, leaving only the street-noise of wheels upon cobble.

He carried the post into the small room he called his study. It was hardly that: one desk, two chairs, and a shelf of books that had not been opened since spring. The candles burned unevenly, one guttering against the draught. He broke the seal with care.

Sir,

We are instructed to advise that the annual provision of four hundred pounds settled upon you by the late Lady Isobel, Dowager Countess of Ashby, has reached its appointed conclusion. The enclosed draft for one hundred pounds represents the final quarterly payment due under that instrument. No further sum shall issue from this office.

We remain, sir,

Your obedient servants,

Armitage & Co.

Kerr read it once, then again, because habit demanded proof even when understanding had already done its work.

No further sum shall issue.

He placed the letter beside the journal.

The second letter came from the Kerr trustees. He opened it without haste. Nothing written by trustees ever required haste. It arrived already certain of obedience.

Sir,

In consequence of recent enquiries respecting the house in Upper Gower Street, we are directed to remind you that your tenancy therein continues for the term of your natural life, pursuant to the arrangement made under the Drumcairn settlement.

Such tenancy conveys no right of alienation, subletting, sale, mortgage, or material alteration. The furniture and effects listed in the original inventory remain attached to the premises and may not be removed, pledged, or otherwise disposed of.

We are further instructed to observe that all charges arising from domestic maintenance, rates, servants’ wages, and ordinary repair remain your responsibility.

We remain, sir,

Your obedient servants,

Kerr, Macfarlane & Boyd

He folded the letter and placed it upon the desk beside Armitage’s, the two provisions lying parallel like verdicts already passed.

He drew the drawer of the escritoire open and set out the little account book he kept more from habit than hope. A stub of pencil lay beside it. He turned to the last page and began the reckoning.

Balance on hand from last quarter: £47 and some shillings. Final quarter received this day: £100.

Total: £147.

He wrote the sum twice, once in figures and once in words, as though certainty might depend upon repetition. The sight of it gave no comfort. A gentleman might contrive to live modestly in London upon three hundred a year—if he drank water, wore last season’s coats, and never played a hand of cards.

He had done all three.

Yet there were tradesmen unpaid and a tailor too patient to be trusted much longer.

He took a clean sheet and listed his debts: servants’ wages, coal, books, candles, rates, bootmaker, laundress, and the subscriptions he had meant to cancel but had not. The column reached the bottom of the page before he finished.

He stared at the last line.

To Mr Price, one quarter’s wage.