“It matters to the people they belong to,” Sophia challenged. “There are at least four hairbrushes in there, all owned by different people from the looks of it. Where did they come from? How did you get them?”
Had Delilah bought them? Did she have some sort of kleptomaniacal tendency that none of the family were aware of?
“Where have they come from, Delilah?” She asked again, but there was something deep inside Sophia that warned her she wasn’t going to like Delilah’s answer – if she got an answer.
Rather than lambast her, there was a momentary pause while her aunt decided what to do. With a swift intake of breath, Delilah put on a rather false display of bonhomie that didn’t reach her eyes and waved toward the stairs.
“Come on, let’s go downstairs. I think a cup of tea is in order. I am parched. All that gardening is just not good for my complexion. Besides, we are due at the Lord’s dinner tonight so we will need to rest for a while.”
She didn’t give Sophia time to answer before she disappeared downstairs, leaving her niece to take one last look at the drawers before she let herself out of the bedroom.
Sophia found her casually preparing tea in the kitchen as though nothing untoward had just happened. She frowned and took a seat to wait for her aunt to join her.
Was she making something out of nothing? After all, there were a few objects tucked away in drawers in Delilah’s bedroom. There was nothing odd about it – was there?
Well, yes there is because none of those items could be hers, Sophia thought.
She traced a random pattern on the table with her finger while her aunt poured the tea. After all, what would Delilah want with several snuff boxes? Delilah didn’t take snuff. She was fairly certain they weren’t family heirlooms either, so why did she even have them in her possession.
“Where has it all come from?” she asked carefully once the tea had been poured and Delilah had taken a seat on the opposite side of the table.
The only outward sign of Delilah’s upset was the heavy clatter of the spoon hitting the saucer.
“Why? Do you like them? They are pretty, aren’t they?”
“They are beautiful; what I saw of them. But you have a veritable hoard of goods there. It is a lot for anybody to just keep in a drawer out of sight. What do you intend to do with them?”
“Cake, dear?” Delilah asked. She nodded at the cake on the table between them.
“Yes, please,” Sophia replied absently. The cake was the last thing she wanted to think about and she suspected that Delilah didn’t either. Her aunt looked as though she was about to run away at any moment. But if cutting and serving the cake kept her at the table and there to discuss the contents of the drawer then Sophia was happy to choke a piece down.
“Have you written to your father yet? I expect you will be relieved to see him again,” Delilah said pointedly as she cut them both slices of cake and pushed Sophia’s across the table toward her rather roughly.
Sophia nodded her thanks. “I have written to him just last week, in fact, to tell him I have arrived safely. I have to confess to being a little homesick. I am sure he would be more than interested to learn how I have found life here.”
“Well, I cannot see that Hooky should have a problem with anything you have seen or done while you have been at my home,” Delilah said firmly.
“You know Hooky. He has only the best interests of the family at heart. He was most concerned when he was informed by the bank that the account containing your inheritance has nearly run dry. The figures are dangerously low, Delilah, and cannot continue to provide you with the lifestyle to which you have become accustomed. I know Hooky has already told you.”
“Pah! Balderdash,” Delilah snapped. “Why, there is a fortune in that account.”
“No, there isn’t,” Sophia replied matter-of-factly. “There was a fortune in that account. There isn’t anymore.”
She hurried to her room to collect several notes Hooky had given her.
“I have been asked to give you this,” she said when she returned to the kitchen.
When she placed them on the table, though, Delilah made no attempt to pick them up and read them. She refused to even look at them and instead stared absently at the table top while she sipped elegantly at her tea.
Determined not to give up, Sophia opened the uppermost parchment.
“This is the latest figure provided by the bank detailing the funds available. Delilah, I know you probably find this distressing, but you cannot continue to bury your head in the sand. The money hasn’t been replenished for a very long time. You cannot continue to plunder it at will the way you have. While the sum left seems like a lot of money, at the rate you are spending it there is barely enough to provide for you for the ne
xt three years.”
“Rubbish,” Delilah protested, still refusing to look at the parchment.
“You are still relatively young and could be around for another twenty or thirty years given that you are in excellent health. What do you plan to do to ensure you keep a roof over your head and food on the table? Hooky has calculated that if you cut back your expenses, and live frugally, then you could have enough for at least ten years. After that, you could very well be forced to seek grace and favour accommodation with a relation. Unfortunately, not many relations can afford to spend as much as you do each month. If you don’t cut back now, you will most certainly have to then.”