‘This is outrageous! Something has to be done!’ Heather cried, her voice shaking with fury.
Grace took Polly’s hand in hers. ‘Come now, dry your tears. I will write your character reference, and any other maids needing one can come to me.’
Polly gasped. ‘Oh, thank you, Miss Skye! If it were not for you, we would be in dire straits.’
Grace gave her a reassuring nod, but a troubling thought surfaced. ‘Do you think Gibbs or his “friends” had anything to do with Leah and Millie’s disappearance?’
Polly’s face darkened. ‘I don’t know, Miss Skye. I would certainly not put it past them. But I have no proof, and neither do the other staff. Gibbs makes sure we are dismissed for the evenings before his guests arrive. We are only allowed back in the mornings to clean. Sometimes, like the other night, his men are still there, passed out in the parlours or bedrooms.’
After Polly left, the women sat in stunned silence.
If Gibbs and his men were capable of harassing their own staff and tenants, could they also be capable of something worse?
For the first time, Grace began to agree with Mary’s gut feeling. As the room remained heavy with unspoken fears, a plan was already forming in Grace’s mind.
She was determined to get to the bottom of this.
If the Duke did not reply, there was a real possibility that his letters were being intercepted and that he was completely unaware of Gibbs’ actions. The more she considered it, the more plausible it seemed. After all, what landlord would willingly allow his Estate to crumble?
Without informing her family, Grace set off the next day to confront Gibbs.
No sooner had she departed than she had second thoughts. She cursed her impulsiveness and hesitated, considering turning back. But then Mary’s and Polly’s distraught faces came to mind. Setting her jaw, she urged her horse forward. The wind whipped against her as she rode, her determination hardening with every stride.
As she approached the Manor, a pang of homesickness struck her. She had not allowed herself to feel it before. The grand house still stood tall and proud, but the gardens bore the wild neglect of abandonment. It lacked a woman’s touch.
Taylor opened the door, his surprise quickly giving way to pleasure. Yet, when she asked to see Gibbs, an undercurrent of anxiety flickered in his expression. He was afraid.
‘Miss Skye, Mr Gibbs is indisposed at the moment,’ Taylor said hesitantly.
Grace understood at once—Gibbs had spent the night drinking and was likely still unconscious. Undeterred, she made her way into the morning room to wait. The room reeked of alcohol, cigars, and sweat. The once-cosy space had been transformed into a dank and gloomy den. Gaming tables were scattered around, littered with decanters and empty bottles. The curtains remained drawn, shrouding the room in a stale, oppressive air.
Sometime later, heavy footsteps echoed down the hall.
The door burst open, and in stepped a heavy-set man in his fifties. The stench of stale alcohol preceded him, hitting Grace before he even spoke. She instinctively raised a hand to cover her nose.
He raked his bloodshot eyes over her.
Leering, he stepped forward and slammed the door shut behind him.
Grace’s heart pounded. For the first time, she regretted coming alone. But she reminded herself that Taylor was nearby.
‘What have we here?’ His voice was gruff, still thick with drink.
Bracing herself, she squared her shoulders and spoke with as much authority as she could muster. ‘My name is Miss Grace Skye, daughter of Mr Richard Skye, the previous owner of Skye Estate. I wish to discuss the tenant situation with you.’
He smirked. ‘Ah, so you are the impoverished spinster Charles spoke of.’
Grace ignored the insult. ‘Mr Gibbs, the tenants are deeply distressed by the increased rents and the lack of maintenance, particularly after the recent storms. Many have become impoverished, especially after the flooding damaged their crops.’ She paused, hoping for a sign of understanding. Instead, his expression remained cold.
‘I have come to appeal to your sense of fairness. Could you reconsider the rent hikes and offer them some relief during these hard times?’
Gibbs sneered. ‘Who do you think you are, telling me how to do my job?’
She took a steadying breath. ‘I am not dictating to you, sir, merely requesting.’
He turned away and poured himself a drink, downing it in one go.
Grace now felt certain—this was a lost cause. She realised she had put herself in a dangerous situation.
