But once the company returned en masse to the drawing room, Gregory once again sought out Caitlin. Boldly, without any by-your-leave or even warning, he grasped her hand, twined his arm with hers, and nodded to where the others of their party had gathered in a knot by the fireplace. “Let’s join the others, shall we?”
She was ready enough to do so and told herself he was merely seeking safety with her and the others.
As they approached, Julia and Joshua turned, saw them, and smiled.
“Caitlin! Just the person we need,” Joshua said.
It transpired that, as often happened at such functions, other guests had seized the opportunity to make inquiries about certain products supplied by the Hall residents present that evening, and several quite valuable orders had been proposed.
Caitlin—with Gregory, plainly interested, by her side—went with Vernon to speak with old Mrs. Hyssop, a wealthy widow, about creating a pair of matching epergnes for her son and daughter-in-law.
“They’re in London, you see,” Mrs. Hyssop explained, “and I gather such things are all the rage. They’ve seen your work, Vernon, and asked me to see if you were willing.”
Between Vernon and Caitlin, they sorted out the details of the order, leaving Mrs. Hyssop smiling.
As they went to step back, Miss Alcott, Mrs. Hyssop’s companion, leaned forward to say, “Miss Fergusson, before you go, can I ask you to mention to Miss Penrose that I would like some more of that cream she makes for my joints? It’s quite amazing the relief her preparation gives me.” Miss Alcott exchanged a meaningful look with Mrs. Hyssop. “So much better than the exercises that new doctor said were all I could do.”
Caitlin smiled and assured Miss Alcott she would mention the matter to Alice, who was sure to send over another pot of her salve.
In turning away from the two older ladies, Caitlin met Gregory’s eyes. He arched his brows, and she smiled back. Obviously, Hagen had made no good impression there.
Subsequently, she and Gregory helped Percy settle two orders for straight-backed chairs. In between, Caitlin collected several more orders for Alice, along with two other veiled yet disparaging references to “that new man in Wellingborough.”
The most valuable order of the evening came from Sir Henry Ratcliffe, the master of the local hunt. After chatting with Gregory about the sport the hunt had recently seen, Sir Henry turned to Caitlin. “M’dear, I need you to help get me out of the briars. I’d promised to see to getting a new gig for her ladyship, but what with one thing and another, it totally slipped my mind.” Sir Henry glanced at Gregory. “Best gigs in the county come from Jenkins and his lads, you know. We at Ratcliffe Hall swear by their workmanship.” Sir Henry turned pleading eyes on Caitlin. “If you could put in a good word, m’dear, and ask Jenkins if he can manage to produce one in short order—just the standard gig, nothing fancy—I would be greatly in your and Jenkins’s debt.”
Caitlin patted Sir Henry’s arm. “I’ll see what Jenkins can do. If you like, I’ll send word once he gives me a date.”
“Thank you! Having a date for delivery will placate her ladyship somewhat, at least.”
With smiles all around, Caitlin and Gregory moved on.
Eventually, Gregory steered them back to the knot of their compatriots from the Hall.
He found himself regarding the group with an odd mix of affection and satisfaction. All in all, they formed an effective team, and he’d started to feel that he was a part of it. To outside eyes, they might appear a strange, eclectic bunch, but having stepped into the shoes Minnie and Timms had fashioned for him, he’d started to view all Hall residents as his. His people—his to protect and nurture. Strange, but true.
Even stranger was that they’d plainly accepted him in his new role, and even with Caitlin as their champion, with Timms now gone, they needed him there—as the owner of Bellamy Hall, with his background and the unassailable social standing that flowed from that—as their support and, where necessary, shield.
While the group chatted, exchanging tidbits of local news gleaned from the wider company, he glanced around the room. The role he’d played that evening was a real one, an ongoing one—a necessary one to keep what he’d come to view as a vital, active, and distinctly worthwhile collection of enterprises functioning.
Some businesses might be able to go it alone, but all the enterprises on the Hall estate hugely benefited from the established collegiality, not just in terms of encouragement and cross-support but also in terms of financial stability.
Not one of the Hall businesses would ever have to worry about going under because of a bad year.
That deepening understanding—not just of the Hall and its businesses but, even more, the role that had fallen to him to fill—continued to develop as, with the others from Bellamy Hall, he drank tea, and eventually, along with all the other guests, they took their leave of their pleased and satisfied hosts.
They were in the coach and rolling home when he realized he’d applied that word—“home”—to the Hall. He never had before, not even in his dreams.
He dwelled on the revelation and, ultimately, acknowledged that he now viewed Bellamy Hall as his home.
He’d come there hoping to find a real and meaningful role for him to fill, one that would satisfy and fulfill him.
And Minnie, Timms, and the Hall and all its residents had delivered precisely that.
After several moments, he glanced at Caitlin, once again seated beside him. Moonlight filtered through bare branches and gently bathed her face. He studied her features for several seconds, then faced forward again.
He was traveling a road—one he’d started down in coming to Bellamy Hall—but he was yet some way from his ultimate destination.
They reached the Hall in the small hours, and after descending from the coach and letting themselves into the house, they made their weary way up the stairs and headed down the corridors to their beds.
