Chapter 11
The following morning, immediately after breakfast, Gregory closeted himself in the library and diligently wrote to everyone he knew who might have information or insight into what was behind Ecton’s sudden interest in acquiring the Bellamy Hall estate.
“Ecton or anyone else,” he grumbled. “If I’m to be inundated with offers to buy the place, I want to know why.”
He wrote to his father’s cousin, Gabriel Cynster, who was a canny investor who could be counted on to have his finger on the pulse of all things financial in England, and also to Montague, who had long been the Cynster family’s man-of-business. His firm efficiently oversaw the diverse holdings and investments owned by the many branches of the family; if there was any whisper about Ecton in the City, Montague would have heard of it.
With those letters sealed and set aside, Gregory wrote to his father and mother and to both his brothers. All four knew at least as much as he had about the estate prior to becoming its owner; if there was something in the past that might account for Ecton’s interest, his father, his mother, or Christopher might know. In addition, his father would pass Gregory’s query on to anyone else in the wider family who might be able to shed light on the matter. And if, by some strange chance, Ecton’s reasons were prompted by considerations of estate management, then as the previous and present masters of Walkhurst Manor, his father or Christopher might have insights to offer.
As for Martin, Gregory’s little brother was presently dipping his unexpectedly wealthy toe into what Martin termed “industries of the future.” If Ecton’s wish to purchase Bellamy Hall had anything to do with new industries, Martin might well know.
After finishing the letter to Martin, Gregory bethought himself of his sister, Therese—or more specifically, his brother-in-law, Alverton. He drew out a fresh sheet, checked his nib, then dipped it into the inkpot and started to write. Quite aside from Therese being miffed if Gregory asked everyone else in the family but not them, her husband, Devlin, the Earl of Alverton, was deeply immersed at the highest levels of both political and investment circles. While Gregory seriously doubted Alverton would ever have rubbed shoulders with Ecton—the notion of Ecton swanning about the circles Devlin inhabited was impossible to imagine—if there was some government or industrial proposal afoot that might account for Ecton’s desire to acquire Bellamy Hall, Devlin would know.
With that letter added to the pile, Gregory sat back.Who else?
Devlin’s childhood friend, Lord Grayson Child, had recently married Lady Isadora Descartes, who, it had transpired, owned and operatedThe London Crier, a newspaper that had shot to prominence over recent months with its exclusive reporting of a plot to destroy the telegraph system in England. If Ecton’s interest in Bellamy Hall was a part of some wider conspiracy in pursuit of who knew what, then it was possible that Child or, even more likely, Isadora and her people atThe Criermight have heard some whisper.
By the time he’d signed that letter, he’d realized that Drake Varisey, who had married Gregory’s cousin Louisa a few years before, was an obvious person from whom to seek advice. Drake occupied a curious position connected to Whitehall; if any threat to the realm materialized, it was Drake who dealt with it, and he often conscripted Cynsters to the cause. Gregory had assisted in several actions over the years. If Ecton was part of a wider plot, Drake would know of it.
Having finished the letter to Drake—and Louisa—Gregory drew out one last sheet. These days, Toby Cynster was the unofficial lieutenant Drake called on first and most often. While Toby and Gregory’s brother, Martin, were close friends, one could never be sure where Toby would be—whether he would be off who knew where doing something secretive for Drake or at home in Newmarket, overseeing the breeding stable at Demon Cynster’s stud.
Regardless, Toby was one of those people who heard whispers of all sorts of things. It was possible he and he alone might have heard something that would explain Ecton’s offer.
Knowing Nicholas, Toby’s older brother, could be relied on to make sure Gregory’s letter reached Toby, Gregory addressed his missive to the Cynster Stud at Newmarket. He dropped the letter on the pile on the salver, then counted the stacked missives. Nine. He couldn’t think of anyone else to ask. He tapped the pile. “Let’s see what comes from these.”
He rose and rang for Cromwell and, when the butler arrived, consigned the letters into his care for immediate dispatch.
After Cromwell had left, Gregory ambled to the window and stood looking out. The day was pleasant enough; as the month progressed, the weather was steadily improving. If he wished to visit any of the farther-flung businesses, the afternoon looked set to be fine.
He weighed the pros and cons of telling Caitlin and the others about the letters. The pros were largely indulging his own impulse to share and the reassurance he would gain from having people with whom to discuss any uncertainties, neither of which would do anyone other than him any good. The cons, however, would impact everyone on the estate, feeding unnecessary and certainly unproductive speculation regarding his interest in Ecton’s offer.
No. He wouldn’t mention his recently dispatched queries. If anything came of them, that would be the time to explain.
With that point decided, he turned his mind to what else he might do to shore up the estate against any possible threat. Against any possible predator. His instincts definitely cast Ecton in that light, and his inner self had zero doubt over what, therefore, his role demanded.
Apropos of that, he’d heard back from the estate’s solicitor regarding the funds he’d inherited along with the Hall—those funds Sir Humphrey had set aside for the upkeep of the estate and which Gregory had assumed would have been depleted to keep the place functioning over the years. The solicitor had confirmed that, over the past decade, those funds had not been touched but, instead, had accumulated interest and grown to the point where the current total was significantly greater than Sir Humphrey’s initial sum.
Gregory had decided to leave that money where it was, as a sizeable buffer against any unforeseen difficulty or future calamity that might impact the estate. However, while all well and good, those funds were a part of his personal wealth and, of themselves, did not increase the value of the estate itself.
He narrowed his eyes. “Yet increasing the estate’s value and hence any putative price will be the surest defense against Ecton or anyone else trying to buy Bellamy Hall.”
After several minutes of cogitation, he returned to the desk and hunted through various papers stacked in meaningful piles around the blotter. He located the sheet on which he’d been doodling on and off over the past days, extracted it, laid it on the blotter, and reclaimed his chair.
He picked up a pencil and ran the tip down the entries, alongside many of which were question marks. Prompted by the need to get a clear idea of the value of his holdings prior to making an offer for Caitlin’s hand, he’d listed all the businesses operating on the estate. While he held no direct interest in any of them, having now fully comprehended how the Bellamy Hall Fund operated, then given that the Fund paid the salaries of all staff, including those in the house, and also all costs associated with the upkeep of the entire estate, including the Hall itself, thus ensuring that his personal wealth was not called on for such purposes, the financial viability of the Hall’s businesses was of significant financial consequence to him.
In a nutshell, the more profitable, stable, and established the Hall’s businesses became, the longer they would prosper and the better off he—and his personal wealth—would be.
And over time, the Bellamy Hall estate would escalate in value to him, thus increasing the price for anyone wishing to purchase it.
That was the crucial point.
Quite aside from him not wishing to sell, even if something happened to him and someone else became the estate’s guardian, he could ensure that the entity Minnie and Timms had created was so very valuable that no one would ever contemplate dismantling it or selling the estate that hosted it to anyone.
He stared at the list. “There comes a point where even a conglomerate becomes so financially secure that, in essence, it becomes invulnerable.”
He was paraphrasing Montague, but that, he decided, would be his new aim. To steer the Bellamy Hall businesses to the point the conglomerate became financially invincible.
Smiling at the thought—at the challenge—he refocused on the list. The question marks indicated businesses he needed to better understand. While he’d been idly doodling, ideas of how to expand those businesses had popped into his brain, but he needed to learn more about their current situations and also what long-term aims the owners might already be harboring.
