Nathaniel sat alone in his study, the quiet of the evening settling heavily around him. Shadows gathered in the corners, closing in as he scanned his ledgers for what felt like the hundredth time, his eyes tracing every line, every column, with a rising sense of dread. Somehow, two large sums had vanished from his accounts, both authorized by his own signature. The sight of his name, bold and confident, on documents he had no memory of signing filled him with a deep unease. Who would dare to take such liberties? And how was he only now discovering this?Frustration rising, he resolved to go to the bank-even at this late hour, someone might be able to shed light on this mystery. Rising to his feet, he gathered the incriminating papers with hurried hands, but a soft knock on the door pulled him from his focus. Amelie, his maid, appeared in the doorway, her expression tentative.
"Yes, Amelie?" Nathaniel snapped, unable to conceal his impatience. "I am pressed for time."
"I beg pardon, sir," she murmured, her eyes dropping, "but I wondered if you might have come upon a letter I placed upon your desk some weeks ago."
"A letter?" he repeated, frowning. "What letter, pray?"
"It was addressed to you, sir," she explained softly, eyes cast down as if ashamed. "I found it among Mrs. Elsa's things, tucked away in her drawer the day she departed. It seemed...important. I tried to tell you at the time, sir, but you were most occupied."
His brows drew together. "And why do you mention it only now?"
Amelie flushed. "I did try, sir. You asked me to return later, and then... with all that has been going on, it slipped my mind. But tonight, I remembered I had not heard from you about it."
He sighed, barely masking his irritation. "Where is this letter?"
"Perhaps it lies beneath some papers, sir," she replied, stepping forward to search. She sorted through the scattered documents on his desk until, at last, she uncovered a yellowed envelope, which she handed to him with a respectful nod.
He took it, barely glancing at it as he murmured, "Thank you, Amelie." She curtsied and slipped out of the room, leaving him alone once more. He turned the envelope over in his hands, feeling an odd sense of foreboding, but he dismissed it; there were more pressing concerns tonight. Slipping the letter into his coat pocket, he left the estate and strode out into the chill evening air, his mind fixated on the missing funds.
At the bank, he arrived just as the teller was about to close. Nathaniel's imposing presence earned him entrance despite the late hour, and soon he was seated across from the clerk, who looked understandably wary beneath Nathaniel's piercing gaze.
"I am here for clarification on two large withdrawals from my account," Nathaniel stated, setting the ledgers down firmly. "Both bear my signature, but I have no recollection of authorizing them. Here." He gestured sharply at the entries in question.
The teller glanced down, examining the ledger entries, and then disappeared into the back to retrieve additional records. When he returned, he carried a large ledger, his finger tracing the lines until it stopped on the disputed sums.
"Here, sir," the teller said cautiously, looking up at him. "Both withdrawals are documented under your name-signed, in fact, in your own hand."
Nathaniel's expression darkened. "But I do not remember authorizing these," he replied, his voice low and strained.
The teller hesitated, then spoke softly. "Sir... Mrs. Elsa visited the bank twice in the past month. On both occasions, she presented checks signed by yourself, and on both occasions, the amounts were substantial. She assured us that you had approved these transactions."
YOU ARE READING
A recipe of love
RomanceSet in the heart of the Victorian era, A recipe of love follows the story of Margaret Sinclair, a recently widowed woman of considerable wealth. Her late husband left her a life of luxury, but Margaret soon realizes that despite her riches, she has...