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to my attention that someone had bought others’ shares in the mine. You know, Aunt Constance had owned a part, and then it was split among her children when she died, and all of them sold their shares. There had been several sales likethat. I thought it odd. Niblett didn’t want me to sell any more, but I couldn’t see any harm. It was not the same person who had bought the first amount I had sold, or so I thought, and the others had been sold to still other companies and people. So I sold another chunk, almost ten percent again. But three or four weeks ago, well, Niblett got this letter. It seems that a company in the United States claimed that it owned a—a majority of the mine. It turns out that Wainbridge—Grandfather’s friend, you remember him, don’t you?—had sold this company his fifteen percent. And Tremont—that’s the name of the American company—owned all the other bits and pieces that had been sold over the years, too, including both the ones I had sold.”
    Angela gazed at him for a moment, assimilating the information. Finally she said, “You mean that this American company actually controls our mine now?”
    Jeremy nodded, looking miserable. “I’m sorry, Angela. I don’t know how it happened. Even Niblett was surprised. He knew there had been some activity, but he did not know that it was all being bought by the same company.”
    â€œIs it so very bad? I mean, I understand that you are getting less money than before, but that would have happened even if different people had bought from you.”
    â€œYes, but Tremont now has control over the decisions. I do not. It can do whatever it wants with the mine.”
    â€œI see. So if they make poor decisions, you will suffer.”
    â€œWe will all suffer.”
    Angela was well aware that this was true. She was completely dependent upon her brother, and her mother and grandmother largely were, also. Whatever wealth the Stanhopes had, had passed to Jeremy.
    â€œOf course. But is it so bleak? We cannot assume they will make bad decisions, can we?”
    â€œAccording to the letter, they intend to close the mine.”
    Angela gaped at him. “What? You can’t be serious!”
    He nodded vigorously. “I am. I couldn’t believe it, either, at first. But this week Mr. Pettigrew showed up in London. I’ve been meeting with him and Niblett and my solicitor. It is worse than bad. It’s… Oh, God, Angela, this American practically owns me!”
    â€œMr. Pettigrew?” Angela’s voice rang with disbelief. “But he seems so mild….”
    â€œNo, not him. Though he is not so mild when you are dealing with him in business. But I am talking about the company that bought the mine. It is owned by some American. I don’t know who. I haven’t met the man. Mr. Pettigrew is merely his representative, and he refuses to say who the principal is.”
    â€œBut, Jeremy, this doesn’t make any sense. Why would anyone buy a mine only to close it down?”
    â€œI don’t know! That’s what I argued. Pettigrew said that the mine simply was not producing enough. He showed me all these figures demonstrating how its production had gone down over recent years. Of course it has. That’s precisely why everyone was so willing to sell to Tremont. He went on and on about how we had been taking everything out of the mine and not putting anything back in. He talked about all the improvements that needed to be done to make the mine profitable again, though we had not used the profits to do so. We just took them out and spent them. You can’t imagine how lowering it was to have to sit there and hear him point out how foolish I had been, all in that quiet, primway. Of course, Niblett had said the same thing to me time and again, but I had never done what he advised. You know me. I never have had a head for business. I assumed that Niblett was