Her friends agreed this was the best and safest course of action.
At that moment, Charlotte’s mother appeared, her overpowering perfume announcing her presence before she even spoke.
‘Grace, my dear, it has been so long!’ she simpered. ‘I believe the last time we saw you was when your suitor abandoned you for that heiress.’
Grace steeled herself, forcing a polite smile. It was going to be a long evening.
Charlotte opened her mouth to reply but was swiftly cut off.
‘Never mind, my dear. It is best for you to marry within your own kind—although it may be too late for you now,’ she added with a saccharine smile. Then, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, she continued, ‘I would advise your sister to do the same and leave off Mr Smith for one of our English young ladies. You know it is unbecoming of you to indulge her in the illusion that she has a chance with him.’
Charlotte’s mother had a way of reminding Grace exactly why she had chosen to remain unmarried. It was true her last suitor had abandoned her, but not for an heiress—rather, he had been repulsed by her deep interests in Indian and Islamic culture. When he discovered her heritage, his fondness quickly turned to disdain. After that heartbreak, Grace had resolved never toendure such rejection again—especially not for simply being herself.
As Charlotte’s mother prattled on with her disparaging remarks, Grace clenched her teeth but held her counsel. Retaliating would only give the woman cause to spread vicious gossip about Heather, and she would undoubtedly do her utmost to ruin her sister’s reputation. Instead, Grace forced herself to nod, letting the words roll over her, refusing to give the hateful woman the satisfaction of a reaction.
Once she had moved on in search of her next target, Charlotte turned to Grace, her expression deeply apologetic.
‘I am so sorry,’ she whispered.
Grace shook her head dismissively. ‘Think nothing of it. I know you endure far worse.’
Anne steered them towards a quieter corner, suggesting gently, ‘Perhaps we should get some refreshments.’
For the rest of the evening, the three friends remained together, laughing, reminiscing, and enjoying each other’s company. As the night drew to a close, they felt the sorrow of parting, knowing Anne and Charlotte would soon be leaving to visit family in other parts of England. Their absence would be keenly felt in the months ahead.
At the end of the assembly, they bid each other a fond farewell, promising to write often, only if Jimmy, as promised by Grace, crafted them a travelling writing desk.
TRUE TO HER WORD, GRACEsent a letter to the magistrate to enquire about the missing girls. She also dispatched Johnson to the farms to assess how the tenants fared, and she was deeply unhappy with the reports.
The magistrate confirmed that two girls, Millie Hayhurst and Leah Jones, were missing. Puzzlingly, he seemed confident theyhad run away from home due to the recent hardships caused by the storms. Grace, however, knew these girls and found the explanation unconvincing. They were sensible and would understand how difficult it was to find reputable work without a reference. The magistrate also mentioned that the families involved were struggling with extreme poverty. This made Grace hesitate with doubt. Perhaps her instincts were wrong. After all, abject poverty and hunger could drive even the most rational people to act desperately.
Johnson also disclosed that Gibbs and his three associates were raising rents in the name of Lord Armitage, leaving tenants struggling to put food on the table. No actual crime had been committed—landlords were within their rights to increase rent—but any fool could see that mistreating tenants would ultimately lead to their departure. If that happened, Skye Estate would become unviable, falling into disrepair. Surely Lord Armitage would not want that to happen.
She discussed the matter with Mr Smith, who was astonished.
‘This is very disturbing, Miss Skye. Why, I must inform the Duke straight away. Gibbs is abusing his position—this is extortion. I am certain Lord Armitage would not order him to raise the rents to such unattainable levels. It makes no sense for him to do so, as you say.’
‘I agree, Mr Smith,’ Grace replied, pleased by his concern. ‘Charlotte’s father wrote to Lord Armitage, but nothing has changed. Perhaps if you were to write, he might take it more seriously.’
Mr Smith took her suggestion to heart. Without delay, he began drafting the letter, determined to act at once. He then insisted on walking to the village himself to post it.
Heather and Grace decided to accompany him, and the three set off, completing the errand with speed. However, on the wayback, they chose to dawdle. Mr Smith was eager to visit a local beauty spot, and Grace, ever obliging, promised to take them.
When they arrived, Grace took her time enjoying a ramble along the beach. She had allowed Heather and Mr Smith to walk ahead while she lingered, wasting time collecting shells and watching the rolling waves. The walk had done her good, she thought—it helped clear her head. Determined, she resolved to speak to the families of the missing girls. If they had run away, she would do what she could to bring them back.
Typical of English weather, the sky soon darkened, and a steady downpour of rain caught Grace unawares. Looking ahead, she saw that Mr Smith had the foresight to bring his umbrella, which would serve him and Heather well, but at such a distance, she could not benefit from it.
Glancing around for shelter, she spotted a familiar cave nearby. This area bordered Skye Estate, and she knew the terrain well. Hurrying inside, she took refuge.
A chill crept over her, and she retreated further into the cave, only to step on something sharp. Wincing, she knelt and examined it. Even in the dim light, she recognised what appeared to be broken glass. As her fingers traced the shards, she realised it was a shattered wine bottle. Though she was no drinker, she could tell from the thick glass and elaborate engraving that it was expensive—likely French.
A sudden noise from deeper within the cave made her freeze. Her pulse quickened. Smugglers? Wild animals? The possibility of either was enough to make her flee. Betty had often repeated the town gossip about French smugglers making secret deals with aristocrats along the coast, bringing contraband into England.
As Grace raced through the rain to catch up with the oblivious couple, she wondered if that was the case here. Therewere several Estates neighbouring Skye—any one of them could be involved.
When they finally returned to the cottage and Mr Smith took his leave, Heather looked positively exhilarated. Later, when Grace asked her about it, her little sister blushed furiously. The entire household was certain Mr Smith would propose any day now, and Heather herself believed it too. She shyly admitted that she would not be averse to it.
The following day, Mr Smith agreed to accompany them on a picnic to another beauty spot. Grace awoke excited for her sister, convinced that a proposal in such a setting would be perfect. As she made her way to the kitchen to check on the picnic preparations, she was surprised to find the room empty. Perplexed, she wandered through the downstairs rooms—no one was in sight.
