The looks on all the faces—surprise bleeding into concern and, even after he’d related his dismissal of the offer, lingering uncertainty—prompted him to state, “I want to make it perfectly clear that I will not be selling Bellamy Hall, not to Lord Ecton or anyone else.” He paused, then felt compelled to add, “Timms chose me to take on the mantle of owner of the Hall. She knew of and valued what you, together, have built here. Indeed, she was a prime instigator of the remarkable community that currently lives and works on the estate, and I feel honored by the trust she placed in me to act as guardian of her and Lady Bellamy’s legacy.” He glanced around the circle of faces, meeting each pair of eyes. “I take that responsibility seriously and will do my utmost to ensure the Hall survives and, indeed, thrives.”
Shoulders visibly relaxed, and the tension in the room faded.
“Now”—he looked around the company—“what can you tell me about Lord Ecton? I would value any insights you can share.”
Caitlin spoke up. “As a relative newcomer, I know little about his lordship, other than that he inherited the estate on the Hall’s western boundary from his father some years ago.”
Henry Kirk nodded. “Aye, it’d be about six years ago, now. His mother died long ago. I can’t recall ever hearing much about her, but his father was a right one—a real gentleman. Can’t say the same for the son.”
“Not that he’s around much,” Len Sutton said. “We never see him in the Bells in the village, and apparently, some months after he inherited, he let the staff go. All of them the old lord had kept on. No idea who looks after Ecton Hall these days. Whoever they are, they keep to themselves—much like their master.”
The others had little more to offer, although several had observations and memories that confirmed what Henry and Len had said. From the combined comments, Gregory formed a picture of an absentee landlord who had absolutely no interest in his ancestral acres.
That rather begged the question of why Ecton wanted to add the much larger number of actively farmed acres of the Hall estate to his holding.
Gregory frowned. “Is the Ecton land farmed?” He looked at the Hall’s farmers.
All shook their heads. Martin Cruickshank explained, “The land that way is rockier—it’s the area from which the stones used in the abbey were originally quarried, although that was centuries past, and the old quarry was filled in long ago. But the land’s not good for much. A bit of rough grazing, perhaps, but with all the better pastures round about, no one’s bothered approaching Ecton to rent his acres. Nor are they likely to, not with the way the man carries on, as if he’s so superior to the rest of us.”
There were murmurs of agreement all around.
Cromwell, who with Rory—an interested observer—was standing at the rear of the group, loudly cleared his throat.
When Gregory and everyone else looked his way, the butler offered, “I recall that his lordship visited Mrs. Timms on several occasions last year.” Cromwell frowned, clearly consulting his memories. “I believe the first time was about a year ago, at the end of winter last year. And he came twice after—later in the summer and again in the autumn.”
“Do you know what he spoke with Timms about?” Gregory asked.
“No, sir.” Cromwell looked faintly peeved. “Mrs. Timms did not require my attendance, and on all three occasions, Miss Fergusson was out and about the estate.”
Gregory frowned. “Did you get the impression that Ecton picked his moments to ensure Timms was alone—that Miss Fergusson wasn’t present to hear what he said?”
Cromwell thought, then replied, “To be perfectly candid, sir, I never got the impression his lordship considered anyone but himself.”
Gregory huffed a laugh, as did most others. He nodded. “He struck me that way as well.”
“That said, sir,” Cromwell went on, “from what I overheard and observed when Mrs. Timms summoned me to show his lordship out, I suspect that, on all three occasions, his lordship had offered to buy the estate from the late mistress, but she, as the saying goes, firmly sent him to the right about.” The butler smiled. “His lordship didn’t take it well.”
From Cromwell’s expression, those memories were pleasing ones.
Gregory nodded. “Thank you, Cromwell. That confirms that refusing Ecton’s offer is what Timms would want.”
He’d been sure enough on his own account, but to know that Timms had stood firm against Ecton’s blandishments underscored that whatever Ecton was about, it wasn’t anything Gregory should waste his time considering.
He looked around the company. “One last thing. For the moment, at least, I think it would be prudent to keep the news of Ecton’s offer for the Hall under our collective hats. There’s no need for anyone else to know.”
Everyone nodded in agreement, and he thanked them for so promptly responding to his request to meet. All assured him that they were pleased to have been consulted. He noted that, to a man and woman, they were relaxed and settled as they filed out of the room to return to their various houses, barns, and workshops.
Caitlin dallied to have a word with the painters. They’d been away for a week on a sketching expedition and had returned only that day.
Gregory followed the others to the door.
As the last of the owners stepped into the corridor, Rory pushed away from the wall against which he’d been leaning and joined Gregory.
Curious, Gregory glanced at the big man and slowed.
Rory waved him through the doorway, then followed and fell into step as Gregory walked toward the front hall.
He saw Rory glance back at Caitlin, noting that she was still engaged.
