Shadows of the Moon - 13. Chapter 13

Shadows of the Moon

The harder you Fall

The next morning a Courier arrived at the front door and gave a letter to the Butler. The letter from the Lord Chancellor, Lord Westbury. Reginald opens the envelope.

Lord Thorne,

I would like to request your presence today at the House of Lords. For lunch at 12 Pm at the House of Lords. I look forward to meeting you and to discuss important matters.

Lord Chancellor

Lord Westbury

Reginald Thorne, the newly appointed Earl of Thorne, was in a rush. He called for his butler, instructing him to gather everyone in the sitting room and have Jim prepare the carriage. Reginald needed to dress quickly. He dashed to his room, changing into his dark gray suit with precision, tying his tie perfectly, and placing a handkerchief in his breast pocket. And he placed his gloves in his coat pocket. Once ready, he hurried downstairs where the others were waiting.

“We must go at once. Everyone to the carriage,” he commanded. He pulled on his gloves!

As everyone settled into the carriage, Reginald turned to Jim, “Parliament, Jim! Time is short, please hurry! I need to be a bit early,” he said, checking his watch anxiously.

He then gave further instructions, “After you drop me off, Alex, go to the bank and take Omar and Kareem with you. Fill Kareem in about the audit.”

Finally, they arrived at the entrance of the House of Lords. Reginald put on his top hat and said, “Return in two hours. I hope it will not be longer!”

The Yoman Warder wears a striking uniform of a dark blue tunic with red trimmings, a matching hat, and with ruff around the neck. And was carrying a ceremonial halberd.

Reginald meticulously checked his attire before approaching a Yeoman Guard. “I am Lord Reginald Thorne, and I am here to see the Lord Chancellor,” he declared, presenting the guard with a note from the Lord Chancellor.

“You are expected, my Lord. Allow me to show you to his office,” the guard replied.

“Thank you,” Reginald said, following the guard down a long, ornate corridor. The guard opened a grand door, and Reginald stepped inside, bowing to the Lord Chancellor. Charles Westbury, the Right Honorable Lord Chancellor, is a man in his early 60s with a dignified and authoritative demeanor. He has a tall, imposing stature, with silver hair neatly combed back, and piercing blue eyes that reflect both wisdom and determination. His face is marked by a few lines, indicative of years of experience and dedication to his duties.

He is always impeccably dressed in tailored suits, often in dark, conservative colors, which complement his formal role. His attire is completed with a crisp white shirt, a carefully knotted tie, and a pocket square that adds a touch of elegance. He carries himself with a sense of purpose, his movements deliberate and confident.

Despite his formal appearance, Lord Westbury is known for his approachable nature and his ability to engage warmly with colleagues and constituents. His voice is deep and resonant, giving commanding attention whenever he speaks, yet he has a way of making those around him feel heard and valued.

The Chancellor stood, walked over to Reginald, and shook his hand warmly. “I am so glad you’re here, Lord Thorne. First, I would like to express my condolences on your father’s untimely passing. He was a fine man and a good friend of mine. I just want you to know that I am for you and If I can offer and help with management of your estate or any legal matters I would gladly help.”

The Lord Chancellor gestured for Reginald to take a seat. “Lord Thorne, your expertise and leadership are crucial at this juncture. We have pressing matters to discuss regarding the financial audits and the current economic policies. "Reginald nodded; his expression serious. “I understand, Chancellor. What specific issues require our immediate attention?” The Chancellor leaned forward, his tone grave. In the grand and opulent chamber of the Lord Chancellor, the air was thick with a sense of urgency and responsibility. Ornate tapestries adorned the walls, and the soft glow of candlelight cast long shadows, emphasizing the gravitas of the conversation. The Lord Chancellor, an imposing figure with a stern yet wise demeanor, gestured gracefully for Reginald to take a seat in one of the plush, high-backed chairs that faced his massive oak desk.

“Lord Thorne, your expertise and leadership are crucial at this juncture. We have pressing matters to discuss regarding the financial audits and the current economic policies,” the Chancellor intoned, his voice steady and resonant.

Reginald, a young man with a poised yet serious expression, nodded in acknowledgement. His eyes mirrored the responsibility he was about to undertake. “I understand, Chancellor. What specific issues require our immediate attention?” he inquired, his tone measured and professional.

Leaning forward slightly, the Chancellor's face grew more somber, the candlelight catching the worry lines etched into his forehead. “There have been discrepancies in the recent audits of several major banks, including the Empire Bank. We need to ensure the integrity of our financial institutions and address any potential risks to our economy,” he explained, the weight of the situation palpable in his voice.

Reginald listened intently, absorbing the gravity of the situation. The magnitude of his task became clear, and he felt the weight of responsibility settle onto his shoulders. “Lord Chancellor, I have already taken step to hand these matters in the Empire Bank and started an audit. I will review the audit reports and coordinate with my team to address these issues promptly. We must safeguard our financial stability,” he responded with determination, his voice firm and resolute.

A flicker of relief crossed the Chancellor’s face, his eyes softening with trust and confidence in the young lord before him. “I knew we could count on you, Lord Thorne. Your father’s legacy is in good hands,” he said with a reassuring smile.

Reginald returned the smile, a hint of warmth breaking through his serious demeanor. “I must admit, this is all very new to me, and I feel like a fish out of water,” he added with a self-deprecating laugh, making a small, nervous gesture to emphasize his point.

The Chancellor chuckled softly, appreciating the moment of levity amidst the seriousness. The atmosphere in the room, while still heavy with responsibility, was now also infused with a sense of shared purpose and mutual respect.

The Chancellor took out his watch and said, “It is best we get going to the dining room as the cook gets mad if we aren’t on time!” He led Reginald though the main meeting hall.

“It is here where we will meet to make your decision and matters are debated!” They then walk through a door in the back of the hall that led to the dining area “From time to time we hold dinners for the house of commons. And we do not do it often, hmmm maybe we should.” he said with a smile.

A well-appointed dining room, with a table set with fine China, silverware, and crystal glasses. The room adorned with heavy drapes, ornate furniture,

As the waiter brought out the wine, its golden hue shimmered in the candlelight, casting a warm glow across the table. The glasses were filled with precision, each drop reflecting the elegance of the afternoon. Reginald took a moment to appreciate the setting—a well-appointed dining room adorned with heavy drapes and ornate furniture, the table set with fine China, silverware, and crystal glasses.

The first course arrived; a delicate consommé served with freshly baked bread. The aroma of the broth mingled with the scent of the bread, creating an inviting start to the meal. Reginald savored each spoonful, the rich flavors providing a comforting prelude to the evening’s conversation.

Next came the fish course, a beautifully poached salmon accompanied by a delicate sauce and seasonal vegetables. The salmon was tender and flavorful, the sauce enhancing its natural taste without overpowering it. The vegetables, cooked to perfection, added a vibrant touch to the plate. Reginald couldn’t help but admire the culinary skill that had gone into preparing the meal.

As they enjoyed their food, the Chancellor shared stories of past dinners and the importance of such gatherings in fostering camaraderie and discussion. His anecdotes were both amusing and insightful, providing Reginald with a glimpse into the traditions and responsibilities that came with his new role.

The final course was a raspberry tart, its sweet and tangy flavors a delightful end to the meal. The pastry was light and flaky, the filling bursting with the freshness of ripe raspberries. Reginald found himself thoroughly enjoying the dessert, a smile of contentment on his face.

To finish, they were served a glass of port, its rich, deep flavor a perfect conclusion to the lunch. Reginald raised his glass in a toast, expressing his gratitude. “I want to thank you for all you have done. I have had a hard time. The death of my father and the Bank—it is more than a little bit overwhelming. And you have, in fact, made me feel better about things, and I must thank you!”

The Chancellor nodded, his expression one of understanding and support. “We all must be here for each other; it is the Lord’s will! And if you need anything or simply wish to talk, I am here for you!”

With that, the Chancellor led Reginald to an office. “My Lord Chancellor, what may I do for you?” a young lady walked to the counter.

“Lord Thorne needs a membership card, please,” the Chancellor instructed the clerk.

She promptly brought out all the necessary papers for Reginald to fill out. Once completed, she handed him a card, symbolizing his new status and responsibilities.

As Reginald stepped out of the House of Lords and into the waiting carriage, he reflected on the evening. “Well, that was very interesting. The Lord Chancellor was very nice indeed, and he was a very good friend of my father,” he mused, feeling a renewed sense of purpose and connection to his father’s legacy.

“Well, what did you find out at the bank”

Alex with a look that spoke volumes. “We have the Initial report here the long and the short of it!

Misreported Data and Measurement Errors

Reconciliation Discrepancies

Inaccurate Asset Valuation

Inconsistencies in Financial Reporting

In the quiet corridors of the Empire Bank, whispers of betrayal began to circulate. Reginald Thorne, the newly appointed Earl of Thorne, found himself at the center of a financial storm. The bank’s accounts had been tampered with, and the prime suspect was Mr. Charles Kensington, a trusted associate. The embezzlement was not a simple act of theft; it was a calculated scheme that siphoned off at least £100,000 from multiple accounts.

Reginald, determined to uphold the integrity of the Thorne legacy, felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. “Tomorrow, we must speak to Mr. Bagshaw and Mr. Peel,” he declared, his voice tinged with frustration. “I could just scream. I feel like we must cover the bank for the losses. I will not have anyone hurt by this. And I can clearly cover it.”

Alex, his loyal friend, looked on with a sad expression. “This is also the part of this whole sad affair. He had help, but who they are is unclear. Mr. Bagshaw is confident that by the end of the audit, we will know who it was. For now, we’re keeping that bit quiet until later, and Captain Peel will be there tomorrow.”

The gravity of the situation was not lost on Reginald. The Lord Chancellor had made it clear that the bank’s problems needed to be resolved swiftly and discreetly. “Lord Chancellor wants this whole bank problem to be cleared up,” Reginald sighed. “And I intend to do it!”

As they rode in silence back to the Thorne estate, the weight of the task ahead loomed large. The audit would reveal the full extent of the betrayal, and justice would be served. But for now, Reginald and his trusted circle prepared for the challenges that lay ahead, determined to protect the bank and its clients from further harm.

Once they arrived at the house, Jim and Kareem took the carriage back to the stables. Reginald and his friends entered the house, where George, the butler, was waiting for them. Reginald removed his top hat and handed it to George. “I think we will need drinks, George. Gin and tonic with lime for me and Alex, and tea for Omar, please.” He removed his coat and waited for George to return with the drinks, taking a sip once they arrived.

The entrance hall opened into a spacious drawing room, where plush sofas and armchairs were arranged around a marble fireplace. The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with volumes of literature and history, and large windows offered a view of the garden outside. A grand piano stood in one corner, a testament to the family’s love of music.

Reggi set his drink down, sat at the grand piano, lifted the cover, and took a deep breath. He began to play Ballade No. 1 in G Minor, Op. 23 by Frederic Chopin, the melancholic notes filling the room and providing a moment of solace amidst the turmoil of the day. The music echoed through the house, a reminder of the beauty and grace that still existed despite the challenges they faced.

As the final notes lingered in the air, Reggi stood and said, “Well, that made me feel better.” He finished his drink with a satisfied sigh. “I am going to take a bath before dinner,” he announced, a smile playing on his lips. His friends exchanged knowing glances, understanding the unspoken invitation. They were happy to know they would be joining him, sharing in the comfort and camaraderie that had always been a cornerstone of their friendship.

                                                           **** 

Meanwhile, Mr. Charles Kensington was busy shaving off his beard and mustache. The gravity of his situation had finally sunk in, compelling him to act swiftly. Once he finished shaving, he grabbed one of his bags and headed to his safe, cleverly concealed behind a painting of a bridge over a river. With a practiced hand, he opened the safe and removed all the money, stocks, and valuable documents it contained, packing them into his bag.

A sinister smile spread across his face as he thought, “They will never catch me.” Confident in his plan, he knew his house in Brighton would serve as the perfect hideaway. The thought of escaping unscathed filled him with a twisted sense of triumph as he prepared to make his getaway.

From the second-floor window, Mr. Charles Kensington dropped his luggage into the neighbor’s backyard. He then tied a rope, which he had prepared for just this purpose, to the leg of his bed. Carefully lowering the rope, he began his descent. However, his plan quickly went awry. Halfway down, he lost his grip and slipped, plummeting to the ground below. He landed hard on his back, the impact leaving him with a painful injury. From that day forward, he walked with a limp, a constant reminder of his desperate escape and the consequences of his actions.