While milling on the lawn, Gregory spotted several of the estate families—those who did not live at the Hall itself—and made a point of exchanging a few words with each group. That seemed to please everyone, including his chatelaine.
He politely asked for introductions to those of the local gentry he hadn’t yet met and Caitlin obliged. They also spent a pleasant few minutes chatting with the Loxtons and Mrs. Hyssop and Miss Alcott.
All in all, the outing lived up to his expectations of a pleasant, relaxed country Sunday morning and, he hoped, went some way toward easing his chatelaine’s nerves.
After luncheon—a delicious meal that had prompted Gregory and everyone else to send heartfelt compliments to Nessie—he retreated to the library and settled with the ledgers containing the notes of what Caitlin had called the “estate meetings.” She’d assured him that he would understand once he read them, and sure enough, after scanning several pages, he appreciated the purpose of the gatherings held at the end of the first week of every month. The notes—detailed yet concise in Caitlin’s neat script—recorded the issues discussed, most often some change in circumstances that impacted more than one business.
In the end, he started at the beginning of the previous year and worked his way forward month by month, noting those issues that had been raised and the subsequent reports on how they’d been resolved.
Most had, indeed, been dealt with, yet as of the beginning of the current year, three issues remained outstanding. One was whether the estate needed to investigate shoring up the riverbanks—there were pros and cons—and another was a proposal to extend the chicken coops and enclosures to include a large barn. He was puzzled over why that apparently involved the Bartons of Barton Farm, Julia and the vegetable gardens, and Alice’s growing of herbs in the rose garden. There was also a combined project put forward by Jenkins and the Kirks over creating a new yard and storage barn to service both the carriage works and the forge.
Those three proposals had arisen over the past four months, but it was plain from the notes of the most recent meeting, in early February, that Timms’s death had stalled all further decisions. Instead, much of that last meeting had been taken up with discussing what those attending expected regarding the new owner.
Wryly, Gregory noted that Caitlin had recorded little of what had been said.
He jotted a list of the three pending proposals, then read back over the notes to glean as much detail as he could.
No doubt because everyone attending would have readily understood what was being suggested, the notes weren’t all that much help.
He shut the book containing the notes of the two meetings this year and reached for the other still-open volume that contained the notes from the previous year, intending to shut that as well, when he recalled seeing, at the beginning of that ledger, a list of unresolved issues from the year before. He drew the book to him and found that first page. He ran his finger and his mind down the list. While most of the issues had subsequently been resolved, three, all hailing from ’50 at least, were still outstanding.
That seemed strange.
He flicked through the ’51 meetings, but while those outstanding issues had been mentioned here and there, they hadn’t been further addressed.
He grunted, picked up his pencil, and added those to his list of unresolved issues—the need for a new storage building to be shared by the cider mill and the Osiery, a wood store for general use, and the introduction of a special type of flue to better vent the forge.
All six unresolved proposals altered land use or established structures and thus might well require permission from him as owner. He shut the ledger and set it aside, folded the list, tucked it into his coat pocket, rose, and went in search of his chatelaine-cum-steward.
After several unproductive casts, he ran her to earth in the walled kitchen garden, talking with Julia.
When he joined them, Julia explained that she and her helpers were taking stock of the currently half-empty beds and ruminating on what to grow where in the coming season. “It’s important to move things around, you see. Crop rotation, as it were. That makes a sizeable difference to our yields, just as it does with grains and such.”
“I see.” Before he could say anything else, Julia launched into a description of the tasks needed to be completed in preparation for planting various crops.
He glanced at Caitlin and took in her serene expression—an expression he was coming to understand meant she was thinking of something else. He returned his attention to Julia, still in full dramatic flight, and when she paused for breath, leapt in to say, “It certainly sounds as if you and your helpers”—he nodded encouragingly at Fred and Moll, who had continued digging and weeding respectively—“have a great deal to do before spring comes in.”
Thrown off her verbal stride, Julia blinked, then nodded. “Indeed.”
“I daresay Caitlin and I should leave you to it.” He caught Caitlin’s eye. “I have some matters to discuss…unless you and Julia have more details to iron out?”
“No, no.” Caitlin smiled brightly—and gratefully—and turned to Julia. “I’ll add those extra seeds to the order.”
“Thank you.” Julia looked around her and frowned. “And yes, I really should get on.”
She waved them off, and hiding grins, they started back along the grassy central aisle.
Caitlin sighed. “Julia never knows when to stop—she’s so devoted to getting her produce to grow that I think her head is full to bursting with everything to do with that, and once she opens her lips, it all comes pouring out.”
“It does seem that way.”
She slanted him a glance. “Did you come purely to rescue me, or do you truly have matters to discuss?”
“The latter. Rescuing you was serendipitous. I went through the notes of the estate meetings and found six projects that have yet to be approved.” He tugged the list from his pocket and held it out.
She halted under the entrance archway and took it.
He stopped and watched as, with an incipient frown tangling her brows, she scanned the sheet.
