‘What do you mean?’ Mrs Merriweather interjected, looking shocked.
‘I ain't meaning to alarm you, Miss, but I heard from my cousin—she still does the laundry for them—that the steward has been inviting his friends over, and they hold these parties where ladies of a certain repute from London are entertained, if you know what I mean.’ Mary tapped her nose. ‘She said some of the staff told her there’s gambling, opium, and all sorts going on. And worse still, the men have been getting handsy with some of the younger maids. They are all talking of leaving, Miss. In fact—’ she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, ‘—a couple of local girls have gone missing. Between you and me, I think it has something to do with the goings-on at the Manor.’
‘Mary, the magistrate said they ran away from home,’ Grace replied, though unease prickled at her. The thought that young women could be abducted on her beloved Estate horrified her.Worse still, the idea that her former home was now a place of immorality and illegal dealings sickened her.
‘The magistrate knows nothing,’ Mary scoffed. ‘No one dares speak out for fear of losing their post—or worse. But I always trust my instincts, Miss, and that whole bunch up there are up to no good, if you ask me. I will not sleep a wink if my Melissa is sent to work there.’
‘You cannot mean to say that they are kidnapping girls in the countryside?’ Heather looked alarmed.
‘What makes you think the girls were kidnapped?’ Mrs Merriweather asked.
‘Well, to start with, Farmer Jones and Farmer Hayhurst checked all the coaching inns and asked around, but no one has seen them. If they ran off to London or a nearby town, as the magistrate claims, surely someone would have noticed two young, unaccompanied pretty girls on the roads or at the inns. But it is as if they vanished into thin air! I say it is unnatural. They must be using sorcery, because no one saw a thing.’
‘Is there any proof that Gibbs was involved in their disappearance?’ Grace asked apprehensively, growing impatient with Mary’s superstitions.
‘No, but I just know it in my gut, Miss. Nothing like this happened before they arrived.’
‘So what are the families doing? Have they taken their concerns to the magistrate or the constable?’ asked Mrs Merriweather.
‘Yes, but they were no help at all. The constable—that useless buffoon—insists the girls simply ran away and refuses to investigate further. And he has managed to convince the magistrate as well. We have tried seeking help from the neighbouring Estates, but they have turned us away. There is no way I will let my daughter work at that Manor. Is there anythingyou can do to help us, Miss?’ she asked tentatively, peering at Grace.
Mrs Merriweather, stunned by Mary’s revelations, spilled her tea all over the table.
Grace, however, was livid. How could this be happening? She wanted nothing more than to give Lord Armitage a piece of her mind for being an absentee landlord. And she was sorely tempted to confront this Steward Gibbs as well.
‘Now, Miss Grace,’ said Mrs Merriweather in her usual voice of reason, reading Grace’s thoughts, ‘it would do no good, and you know it. You have no sway in this matter. You don’t want to invite trouble—by the sounds of it, this steward and his men are dangerous.’
‘Surely, we must do something!’ cried Heather heatedly, pumping her fist into the air.
Since receiving the letter, Heather had become increasingly withdrawn. When she was not aloof, she was irritable. Though her reaction was not wholly unexpected, her anger unsettled the other ladies in the house.
Grace, eager to diffuse the situation as Heather’s frustration mounted into a full-blown denunciation of the male species, quickly reassured Mary. She informed her that Charlotte’s father and Mr Smith had already written to Lord Armitage about the troubling situation and that she, too, would send a letter. This seemed to placate Mary, instilling a glimmer of hope. As the discussion shifted, Heather, having lost her catalyst for outrage, gradually calmed—especially after a few pointed looks from Mrs Merriweather.
‘I know Melissa is a good cook. We can’t pay much, but would you consider letting her work here with us?’ Grace suggested.
Mary readily agreed and left with a basket of food from the kitchen, promising to send her daughter the next day.
After she departed, Grace set about writing her third letter to Lord Armitage. But as she put pen to paper, doubts gnawed at her.
Weeks had passed since she had first spoken to Charlotte about this, and nothing had changed. What if Lord Armitage simply did not care? Worse still, what if he had instructed Gibbs to act in this manner?
Yet, as soon as she considered it, she dismissed the notion. No landlord would willingly sabotage his own Estate’s prosperity. Surely, Gibbs’ actions were causing financial losses. And then there were the missing girls—surely a coincidence?
How could a mere steward be involved in such a heinous crime?
AFTER MELISSA SETTLEDin (much to the Skye sisters’ relief), she took to the household like a duck to water. Her culinary skills delighted the ladies,while Betty was overjoyed to have finally found a gossip partner.However, it was Jimmy who seemed the most pleased—his feelings were made abundantly clear by the way he regularly blushed in her presence.
Unfortunately, the staff of Skye Manor were not as lucky as Melissa. A steady stream of employees began arriving at the cottage, each confirming the distressing reports about the Estate and the Manor. Several young maids had been harassed by Gibbs and his men. They wanted to leave, but Gibbs refused to provide them with character references.
Polly, one of the maids, recounted her ordeal in a trembling voice. ‘And then... and then,’ she sobbed, ‘he said that he could make me rich if I agreed to...’ She hesitated, her face burning with shame. ‘If I agreed to lie with him and his friends. When I refused, he laughed and tried to grab me! I barely managed to escape.’
Mrs Merriweather looked aghast. ‘Oh, my goodness, my poor dear! This is dreadful!’
‘I know, Mrs M. All the younger maids are hiding as much as we can. We only go to clean rooms in groups. Gibbs and his men are always making lewd remarks and trying to manhandle us. Only the older maids are spared.’
‘Have you been to the magistrate?’ Heather asked urgently.
‘Mr Taylor tried, but nothing came of it. It is Mr Gibbs’ word against a servant!’ Polly said bitterly, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief.
