Page 19 of Foes, Friends and Lovers
And those Minnie and Timms had gathered into the Hall were continuing that commitment, each in their own way.
Gregory climbed the low hill that lay between the house and the church. As he ambled upward, gravestones—some ancient, others less so—came into view, dotting the downward slope ahead. He reached the crest and saw that someone else was there, crouched beside a grave. He halted, studying the female figure, well-rugged up in a thick pelisse.
Kneeling beside the newest grave, Caitlin Fergusson was arranging flowers in a vase. The next grave along already bore a vase with an arrangement of Christmas roses nestled amid green leaves.
Gregory watched for a moment, then continued his approach.
As he neared, Caitlin lifted the second vase, now bearing early daffodils that had to have come from the conservatory, and placed the tribute at the base of the recent gravestone.
She rose and examined the result, then sensed him nearing and looked his way.
He ignored the faint suspicion he glimpsed in her pansy eyes and, studying the gravestone, confirmed it marked Timms’s final resting place.
His gaze still lowered, he murmured, “We all would have come if we’d been able. We were sorry to have missed the service.”
He felt Caitlin’s gaze on his face. After a moment of indecision, she offered, “We were all here. Every last person on the estate, no matter how hard it was to get here. Some neighbors, too, even though they had to break through drifts to manage it.” She paused, then added, “It was a miserable day, but we couldn’t let her go alone.”
“I’m glad she had people who cared about her there.” He accepted without question that Timms had cherished all the odd bods she’d gathered at the Hall.
Caitlin nodded and picked up her basket, clearly intending to depart.
Hurriedly, he looked up. “Do you come here often?” To excuse the intrusive question, he tipped his head toward the three graves—Timms’s, Minnie’s, and Sir Humphrey’s. “I can see the graves are well tended.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Every few days, I replace the flowers. Timms loved flowers, and I imagine Minnie did, too. Keeping them fresh is the least I can do.”
Gregory glanced at the graves. “I thought Timms would be here, next to Minnie. Over all the years I knew them, they were inseparable—I assumed they would want to be close in death as well.” He looked at Caitlin. “I gather you’ve only been here for three years, yet you’re plainly as devoted as any of those who knew Timms for much longer.”
Annoyed to feel defensive, Caitlin raised her chin. “She offered me and my maid and groom safe harbor when we needed it.”
“When you got caught in the blizzard?”
She nodded. Let him think that was what she’d meant.
“And you stayed.”
More question than statement. She turned toward the house. “Timms explained that she needed someone who knew how to manage a household to help her and offered me the position of chatelaine.” She shrugged lightly. “That suited me, and I accepted and stayed.” She glanced at him. “That’s one decision I’ve never regretted.”
A light smile touched his lips. The sight set something fluttering inside her, and she decided she’d dallied there—cocooned in the mists with him—long enough. Tightening her grip on her basket, she started toward the house. “I need to get on.”
Of course, he turned to walk beside her. “Where are you going?”
It had been her intention to show him around and introduce him to those business owners he’d yet to meet. Reminding herself of that, she admitted, “This is one of the mornings on which, every week, I visit several of the estate’s businesses.”
“I see. Which ones are you planning on visiting today?”
“The carriage works, the forge, the glassblowing workshop, the livestock pens, the carpentry workshop, and lastly, the kitchen gardens.” She pointed ahead, through the thinning veil of fog, at the large barn behind the stable. “That’s the carriage works, and from there, the other businesses I mentioned circle the house, ending with the kitchen gardens, which are located to the north.”
He nodded. “I remember the kitchen gardens and the original carriage barn, but several of the other buildings are new to me.” He caught her gaze. “If you have no objection, I’ll come with you. I need to learn more about the various enterprises located here.”
She inclined her head in outwardly easy acceptance and told herself that him learning about the businesses, under her careful guidance no less, was precisely what she’d wanted. Just because her stupid senses had developed some sort of sensitivity to his nearness was no reason to deviate from her carefully calculated path.
To distract herself from her unrelenting physical awareness and the prickling sensation spreading beneath her skin, she inquired, “How long are you planning on remaining at the Hall?” A chatelaine, she felt, could justifiably voice such a question.
She felt him glance at her, his hazel gaze acute, then he faced forward and replied, “I haven’t made any plans to leave. At this time, my focus is on learning about the enterprises that contribute to the Bellamy Hall Fund.”
Gregory didn’t want her pursuing the subject of his ultimate intentions; he wasn’t sure he could yet define them to himself. They’d descended the hill and were striding across the relatively flat lawn, with the stable looming ahead. The old carriage barn, apparently now known as the carriage works, lay directly behind the stable. “Tell me about the carriage workshop. It’s been rebuilt and extended since last I saw it.”
“When was that?”
