Page 42 of The Mad Marchams

“Thanks.”

Bartle handed over a collection of tatty dog leashes. “Take as many of the dogs as you think you can manage.” He grinned. “You can easily tell who wants to go out and who prefers to stay in the kitchen by noting who is currently hiding under the table.”

Mabel rounded up the dogs, evenly distributed the leashes between her two hands, and set off. Going up the hill toward the main parkland proved a lot easier with eight dogs towing her along. She walked as far as the lake and sat down on a mossy stone bench in front of the fake temple. The dogs settled around her contentedly.

She fished for a tissue in her pocket and came out with two and the crumpled note, which was now open and far too easy to read.

“Crap,” Mabel murmured. “Now I have guilt.”

Apparently, the bank would be more than happy to advance a new loan if Colin paid off the one his grandfather had taken out fifty years ago… a loan that Colin had obviously been unaware of because he hadn’t mentioned it might be a problem before he left.

“I could pay it off.” Mabel spoke into the silence. “It’s only a few thousand pounds and then no one would have to bother Colin about it.”

She absentmindedly patted one of the dogs as she considered the idea. There was no way she could roll up at one of the oldest and snobbiest banks in England and offer to pay someone else’s loan. They’d probably deport her as a money launderer. But was there another way?

Eventually, she made her way back to the hall where she discovered Bartle just about to go up the stairs with the earl’s breakfast tray.

“Did you have a nice walk, miss? I’ll tell the earl you took the dogs. He’ll be very grateful.”

“When you come back down, could I talk to you for a minute?” Mabel asked.

“Of course, miss. I won’t be a tick.”

At Mrs. Reynolds’ direction, Mabel fed the dogs and sat at the table where she was dished up eggs, bacon, fried bread, mushrooms, and baked beans all on the same plate with toast in a rack on the side. Despite her concerns Mabel managed to wolf everything down at a similar speed to the dogs.

“Now, how can I assist you, miss?” Bartle said as he returned.

Mabel jumped to her feet and gestured toward the door. “Can we talk outside?”

His eyebrows rose but he followed her down the passageway to the exterior door which was wedged open with an ancient flatiron.

“I accidentally read the note.” Mabel confessed once they were out in the garden.

“Ah.”

“And I was wondering if there was any way I could just pay off that debt without Colin finding out about it.”

His brow creased. “That does seem slightly underhanded, miss.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s fair that Colin is responsible for the profligate spending habits of his ancestors. He’s got enough to worry about without all that.” She hurriedly added, “I was thinking that if the earl had a checkbook with some deposit slips, I could have one and send it in with my check.”

Bartle studied her for a long moment. “I would have to consult the earl. I wouldn’t feel right going behind his back.”

“Why? He’s not well. I don’t want to worry him either.”

“Because he trusts me, miss,” Bartle said gently.

Mabel immediately felt ashamed. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It was a stupid idea. I should just ask Colin.”

“I believe young Mr. Freddy has an estate check book for the home farm expenses. Perhaps you might consult with him?”

“That’s a great idea,” Mabel said. “Thank you, Mr. Bartle. You’re a star.”

“Well, thank you too, miss.” He winked at her. “You’ll find Mr. Freddy in the breakfast room.”

Mabel bade a fond farewell to the dogs and ventured into the posh part of the house where she found Freddy sitting in solitary splendor at the table consuming bacon and eggs at an alarming speed.

“Morning, Mabel.” He paused long enough to drink a whole cup of tea. “Are you joining me?”