Page 14 of Foes, Friends and Lovers
“Cynster.” Trowbridge offered his hand, and Gregory gripped it. “Good to see you here.”
“Indeed.” With a smile, Hillside offered his hand as well, and after he and Gregory had shaken hands, informed him, “We tossed for the honor, and Vernon won. So I’ll let him tell you about the glassblowing studio before I bend your ear about fine furniture.”
Despite the many questions he had for his chatelaine, Gregory found himself diverted by the two older men and their relaxed, confident, and engaging company. They weren’t as old as his parents but somewhere in their forties.
Hillside was slender, with fading brown hair, long hands and bones, and carried the air of a dapper gentleman-about-town.
Trowbridge—Vernon—was older, a salt-and-pepper-haired gentleman of average height and stocky build. “I first met Sir Humphrey when I was a young man. I was in banking, then, and my wife and I occasionally visited here, where Minnie always made us welcome. When my Gwendoline passed…for a while there, I lost my way, but Minnie found me and insisted I return here with her.”
Vernon’s eyes twinkled. “Second best decision I ever made—the first being to marry Gwen. I came here, and Minnie and Timms worked their wiles, and I ended staying. It was Minnie who encouraged me to follow my passion for glassblowing.” Vernon glanced around the gathering. “She insisted she didn’t have an artistic bone in her body, but she knew good work when she saw it. She was instrumental in encouraging virtually everyone here.”
Gregory nodded. “My uncle—Gerrard Debbington, the painter—credits Minnie’s encouragement as pivotal to his career.”
“It was much the same for me,” Percy said. “I was tootling about town, doing nothing much, bored out of my wits. I’m a distant connection of Sir Humphrey’s, and Minnie and Timms had met me at family functions. Timms stumbled across me in town and demanded I give an accounting of myself—you know how she used to do that?”
Gregory grinned. “I do, indeed.”
“Well,” Percy went on, “what with one thing and another, she hauled me out here, and I ended up setting up the carpentry workshop—working with wood being the one thing I’m good at—and now, my helpers and I make fine furniture.”
Miss Fergusson, who had been standing beside Gregory, cleared her throat and looked pointedly at Vernon and Percy.
“That’s right,” Vernon said. “We’re supposed to tell you about our businesses. So, the studio makes fine glassware—I won’t bore you with the details; you’ll have to stop by and see our range—and we sell through outlets in Northampton as well as directly supplying several of the larger houses around about and others who hear of us through word of mouth. Oh, and in the past six months, we’ve cleared more than six hundred pounds in profit and paid four hundred of that into the Fund.”
Vernon smiled at Caitlin, who nodded approvingly, then both looked at Percy.
Percy grinned. “It’s much the same tale for the woodworkers and me. We make damn near anything to order—these days, that accounts for most of our work—and any extra pieces go to shops in Northampton. We’ve had an excellent past six months, with nearly seven hundred in profits, of which we’ve contributed four hundred and fifty to the Fund.”
Both men were justifiably proud of their achievements; six months’ profits of that size were nothing to sneeze at. Gregory could see not just pride but also deep satisfaction shining in their eyes and investing their features. He commended them both, adding, “You’ve each clearly found your niche.”
“That’s it exactly,” Vernon said. “That’s Minnie’s legacy, and the true magic of Bellamy Hall.”
Miss Fergusson smiled, then something caught her eye.
Following her gaze to the doorway, Gregory saw Cromwell hovering. Having drawn his attention, the butler announced, “Dinner is served, sir, miss.”
Gregory turned to his chatelaine, intending to offer his arm—even as he registered the oddity of the impulse—but she waved him toward the door and turned to walk beside him.
Intrigued—distracted—by her again, he quashed the part of him that wanted her closer and obliged her by matching her gliding pace while reflecting that Timms had always eaten with the family. Indeed, she’d been regarded as a family member, meaning of their station, for as long as he could recall. From all he’d observed, Miss Fergusson was of similar ilk.
Glancing back, he saw the rest of the company readily following in a loose, informal configuration. Facing forward, he acknowledged a fact that had been staring him in the face. All those present were gentry-born, perhaps not as well-born as he but of similar social station. Any of them could join ton gatherings without raising eyebrows. But instead of haunting society’s spheres, either in London or elsewhere, they’d all opted to run businesses out of Bellamy Hall.
His curiosity was well and truly piqued, especially after speaking with Vernon and Percy.
And then there was Caitlin Fergusson. What was her story?
He slanted a glance her way, but she continued to face forward, her expression mild and entirely uninformative.
Before he could think of a leading question, they reached the dining room, and Cromwell was waiting to seat Gregory in the big carver at the head of the table. As he sat, he noticed the others—still chatting with each other—claim chairs in a manner that suggested those were their customary places.
Miss Fergusson continued to the chair at the table’s foot. She sat and was flanked by Vernon and Percy. Meanwhile, footmen held the chairs on either side of Gregory’s for Julia and Alice. Beyond Alice sat the three painters, while opposite, beyond Julia, Joshua and Millie claimed their seats.
Gregory wasn’t surprised when, as soon as the soup was served, tasted, and exclaimed over, Julia Witherspoon—handsomely turned out in purple-silk taffeta, with her dark hair put up and pearl drops in her ears—launched into a more detailed description than she’d given him earlier of the output of the kitchen garden over the various seasons, followed by a neat summary of the markets and shops through which extra produce was sold. She explained that the kitchen garden supplied the Hall as well as the various other estate families as needed before reporting that, over the six months to December, her “little enterprise” had delivered a profit of two hundred pounds, of which one hundred and thirty had been paid to the Hall fund.
Gregory managed to keep his jaw from dropping. Although less than the profits from the glassblowing and carpentry workshops, to clear two hundred pounds in six months from a kitchen garden while simultaneously supplying the entire estate was no mean feat. Curious, he asked if she had some secret, and with a self-satisfied smile, she explained that she’d realized that certain vegetables were difficult to grow locally and, therefore, in short supply.
“But several of the local ladies and gentlemen have quite a craving.” Her smile turned smug. “So I put extra effort into learning to grow those crops, and that’s certainly paid off.” She nodded across the table. “Alice and Millie helped me work out the best conditions and so on.”
The three women shared a smile of pure triumph.
