Page 27 of Foes, Friends and Lovers
“And to learn of any difficulty each business might have encountered.” She paused, then went on, “I’ve learned that turning up at the businesses each week gives the business leaders an opportunity to tell me of any issues they have or items they need, and one and all, they remember both better while they’re at work. Expecting them to send me a list or remember to tell me over dinner or at some other time simply doesn’t work as well.”
He nodded, then slanted her a glance. “Your memory must be excellent.”
She chuckled and drew out the paper and pencil she carried in one pocket. “My memory is excellent”—she waved the pencil and paper—“but I also make notes as I go.”
Amusement danced in his eyes. “Very wise. I hadn’t noticed you making your notes.” With barely a pause, he continued, “Tell me about the way meals are taken. I gather breakfast is an informal affair.”
“Cromwell has the breakfast parlor provisioned from six o’clock—some if not most in the house like to get an early start. I believe Cromwell keeps the dishes warm until nine, then he clears.”
“And luncheon?”
“Is always at twelve-thirty, but is also informal in the sense that it’s for whoever turns up. The platters are set out on the table in the dining room, and everyone serves themselves.”
He nodded. “And dinner?”
She paused, then replied, “Dinner has always been a formal meal, much as it was yesterday, with us meeting in the drawing room, going in to dinner, then retreating to the drawing room again and breaking up after taking tea. Apparently, that was the way Minnie ran things, and Timms kept up the practice.” She glanced at him. “Unless you would prefer to dine alone?”
She was relieved when, after the barest moment for thought, he shook his head. “Let’s keep things as they are. I usually dine with friends, and obviously, gathering about the dinner table is a valuable way of making all those present feel part of a greater whole.”
She was impressed that he’d seen that. She was quick to add, “And before, during, and after dinner creates excellent opportunities to catch up with any issues or broach matters that might affect more than one business.” She paused, then went on, “Everyone’s relaxed enough to be free with their observations and supportive of each other, and with many of the nearer businesses there, there’s no sense of preference being afforded to one and not the other.” She glanced at him. “In addition, the other business leaders join us on Wednesday and Sunday evenings, so they’re a part of our gatherings, too.”
Cynster blinked. “The other business leaders?”
Caitlin grinned. “You’ve only met about half so far. There’s the owners of the Osiery, the orchard and cider mill, the leatherworks and bindery, the weavers, and the four farms as well.”
When he frowned, she continued, “The Osiery, the orchard and mill, and the leatherworks and bindery are all down along the riverbank. The weavers are in adjoining cottages on this side of the orchard, and the farms are farther out—Nene and Home Farm are on the other side of the river, while Roxton Farm is on our side of the river but farther east, and Barton Farm fills the northern part of the estate.”
“The farms, I knew about,” he admitted, “but those other businesses are more recent, I think.”
“Most are over five years old, but possibly not as much as eight.”
They reached the north door, and he grasped the handle and opened it, then set the door swinging wide and stepped back to allow her to precede him.
Without hesitation, Caitlin walked past him and inside, but she was, once again, very conscious that he was treating her as a lady, not as a chatelaine, an employee. She went along with it; she couldn’t afford to make a fuss and, through that, have him focus on what his instincts were plainly telling him.
She halted in the dimness of the corridor. Once he’d entered and shut the door, she held out her hand for the basket. “Nessie and the kitchen staff will be rushing about putting together the platters for luncheon. They won’t thank you for throwing them into a fluster.”
He frowned, but when she calmly waited, hand commandingly extended, he reluctantly surrendered the heavy basket.
She took it, careful to avoid touching his hand. She hefted the basket onto her hip, but his doubtful expression prodded her into saying, “Don’t worry. It’s not so heavy I’ll collapse while carrying it from here to the kitchen.”
He grunted, but then waved her off and turned toward the front hall.
She smiled as she swung the other way. “I’ll see you at the luncheon table.”
He replied with another grunt.
Chapter 4
After luncheon, still inwardly marveling at the reality of what Minnie and Timms had created at the Hall, Gregory retreated to the study, determined to learn more.
The study desk had been cleared of all papers. After perusing the ledgers in the bookcases and finding nothing to his purpose, he tugged the bellpull. When Cromwell appeared, Gregory said, “I’m looking for the estate accounts. Where are they?”
Cromwell looked faintly flustered. “Well…er…”
Another point occurred to Gregory. “Regardless, who keeps the accounts?” He’d yet to meet anyone…
His suspicions rose as Cromwell all but flapped and said, “I’ll fetch the accounts—and Miss Fergusson.”
