Mrs Merriweather huffed, unimpressed. ‘Or perhaps he is waiting for the right moment.’
The room fell into silence. The fire crackled in the hearth, but its warmth did nothing to ease the sudden chill in Grace’s spine.
‘I suppose it is possible that he is covering for Gibbs’s friends or even the mastermind in London,’ Heather conceded. ‘All the more reason to watch him closely. And what better opportunity than this? Do not forget, Taylor and Jimmy will be there to protect her.’
Mrs Merriweather scoffed. ‘Taylor and Jimmy could not protect themselves against a mouse, let alone fight off a gang of kidnappers.’
‘You are forgetting that whoever is behind this is only kidnapping young or pretty girls,’ Heather pointed out. ‘All Grace has to do is keep her disguise on to avoid attention. Maybe Betty can improve it. And what about the missing girls? Melissa? And the tenants? Are you just going to leave their fate in the hands of this unknown Mr Stone? If you work with him, you can spy on him—make sure he is not involved. Maybe even find evidence against Gibbs and his accomplices. Besides, what if Mr Stone is exactly who he says he is? What if he is a Bow Street Runner?’
Grace bit her lip, considering Heather’s words. The idea of working with Mr Stone was proving more tempting than she had initially thought. But his sharp, piercing gaze held her back. The thought of enduring his scrutiny again was unsettling.
Heather saw her hesitation and pressed on.
‘Besides, we could do with the money, couldn’t we? What if you earned enough for us to have a season in London?’
Grace blinked in surprise. Heather had not spoken of such a thing since the letter. Was this sudden interest because she still wished to see Mr Smith?
‘Oh, Squirrel,’ Grace said gently. ‘No stewardship post will earn nearly enough for a London season. We would need a sponsor—someone to introduce us to society. And I’m afraid we simply do not have the connections, my love. Not to mention the dance lessons you need beforehand.’
The disappointment on Heather’s face wrenched at Grace’s heart. In that moment, she felt as if she had failed her sister.
Mrs Merriweather, sensing Heather’s motives, added, ‘Miss Heather, Mr Smith is getting married. You need to forget about him.’
Heather looked as though she might cry. ‘I know. You are right. He did not love me enough to fight for me. I want to find someone who will love me—someone who will choose me. But here, in this isolated place, there is little hope for that. No matter, I shall be content with Garlic and Ginger. I shall try my best to forget him and be myself again,’ she finished with a weak laugh.
‘Perhaps we can go to Bath,’ Mrs Merriweather suggested. ‘I hear the assemblies there are all the rage.’
Heather attempted a smile, but her spirit remained subdued. ‘Bath is where elderly and sick people go...’
For the remainder of the day, Grace could not shake her unease. Guilt weighed heavily on her—for not doing more for the tenants, for Melissa, for the other missing girls, and, more acutely, for letting Heather down. The conversation from earlier lingered in her mind, each unspoken hope and disappointment pressing on her heart.
After dinner, Heather was quieter than usual. When she asked to retire early—something she rarely did—it only confirmed Grace’s suspicion that Heather was beginning to truly understand the sacrifices they were forced to make because of their circumstances.
SITTING IN THE DRAWINGroom, Grace found it impossible to shake the restless thoughts swirling in her mind. She needed to clear her head, so she decided to seek out Mrs Merriweather, who often spent time with the others in the kitchen. The barriers of station had blurred since moving to the cottage, and sure enough, when Grace entered the kitchen, she found a charming scene: Johnson, Jimmy, Betty, and Mrs Merriweather sitting around the large kitchen table, a cheerful fire casting a cosy glow across the room.
As soon as Mrs Merriweather saw Grace, she rose, her expression softening.
‘Is there something you need, Miss Grace?’
‘Oh no, please sit, Mrs M. I would love to join you, if you do not mind?’
‘Mind?’ Mrs Merriweather laughed, waving her hand as Jimmy quickly pulled up a chair for her. She eyed Grace, her gaze full of concern. ‘What’s the matter, petal? You look worried.’
Grace pressed her fingers to her temples, exhaling sharply. She had kept these thoughts bottled up for so long, refusing to acknowledge them fully, but now, surrounded by warmth and familiar faces, the weight became unbearable.
‘Oh, Mrs M...’ Her voice wavered. She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself, but the words tumbled out before she could stop them. ‘I have failed Heather. She deserves a chance at love, at a family... but I have given her nothing.’ She flailed her armsin defeat. ‘Heather is right—she has very little chance of meeting anyone here, and we do not have the resources even to take her to Bath, though she disliked the idea.’
Grace paused, shoulders sagging as she looked upward. ‘Maybe I should not have been the one to look after her. I have muddled everything! Mama and Papa would be disappointed in me.’
Though Grace was not usually one to show emotion in front of others, the tears escaped anyway, much to her own surprise. She dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress.
Johnson, who had been silent up to that point, tried to reassure her. ‘Ah, Miss Grace, you can’t be so hard on yourself. It has been difficult for you too, has it not? You’ve had to fight many challenges. Honestly, I think you’ve done a damned fine job!’ The others nodded in agreement.
Betty, a tender soul who could not bear seeing others upset, hurried to Grace’s side with a blanket, unsure what else to do to relieve her distress. Grace sniffed as Mrs Merriweather, ever the steadying influence, handed her a handkerchief.
‘Dry your tears, my dear. You are very far from a failure, and Miss Heather knows this—we all do. Besides, when did you ever let a little adversity stop you? Remember what your mother used to say? “When you can't change the direction of the wind, adjust your sails.” I am sure, together, we can come up with a solution.’
A small smile flickered across Grace’s lips, and for a moment, the warm memory of her mother soothed her. ‘It is not just Heather,’ she admitted, her voice faltering. ‘I feel guilty about the tenants and the missing girls. Poor Melissa vanished under our watch. I should be doing more for them.’ Her heart sank under the weight of it all. ‘I could do more if I helped Mr Stone. I know we do not trust him, and he could turn out to be dangerous like Gibbs, but... should I not keep a closer eye on him if given the chance?’
