Page 6 of The Spinster's Resolve

T he following fortnight, the sisters attended the Sandgate local assemblies, and, true to his word, Mr Smith arrived as well. He was immediately swept up in a flurry of introductions, orchestrated by Grace. The ladies admired him greatly, while the gentlemen found him agreeable company.

Though the assembly was not as grand as the social gatherings in London, it had a charm of its own. The relaxed atmosphere of the rustic assembly hall and the warmth of the locals more than compensated for its lack of opulence.

After a couple of dances, Grace spotted her childhood friends, Charlotte and Anne. They greeted each other warmly, slipping back into easy conversation despite the months that had passed since their last meeting.

A short while later, Heather finished her dance and joined them. Charlotte grinned mischievously.

‘So, dearest Heather, I hear from the grapevine that you have a new beau,’ she teased.

Heather turned crimson and cried, ‘Grace, you told her!’

‘I did no such thing. Charlotte has her network of spies,’ Grace replied archly.

Heather huffed. ‘Well... I do not know how I feel about him yet,’ she said, though her expression betrayed her words.

Charlotte chuckled. ‘Well, you had better make up your mind quickly—men have short attention spans. Has he expressed any interest? I mean, aside from just staring at you?’

‘How do you know he does that?’ Heather asked, startled.

Charlotte beamed. ‘Well, I didn’t—but I do now.’

Laughter erupted amongst the ladies. Heather was soon whisked away by her next dance partner, leaving Grace an opportunity to confide her recent woes to her friends.

Charlotte, the daughter of a baron, was, to her mother’s chagrin, still unmarried. Like Grace, she was fast approaching spinsterhood, though the label did little to dampen her sunny disposition. In contrast, Anne was a quiet, bookish young woman, but over the years, Grace and Charlotte had coaxed her out of her self-imposed shell.

‘I still cannot believe your cousin did this to you and your sister. Is there truly nothing you can do?’ Charlotte exclaimed.

Grace shook her head. ‘Ahh, Charlotte, we have everything we need. If I let myself dwell on it, it will only make me bitter. I would rather have our independence than live under his thumb.’

Anne, despite her reserve, was indignant. ‘Still, I am sorry this has happened to you. I have heard that since the new owner took over, the tenants are suffering. They are not being looked after the way they were when you were there.’

‘Yes,’ Charlotte added. ‘Some have sought help from my father. And there are whispers of a couple of missing girls from Skye Estate.’

Grace stiffened, horrified. ‘Missing girls? Mistreated tenants?’

‘There is a rumour that the families believe their daughters were kidnapped. You know how country folk are—any newcomer is viewed with suspicion,’ Charlotte said.

A chill crept over Grace. ‘Which girls?’

Anne sighed. ‘Allegedly, Millie Hayhurst and Leah Jones.’

Grace paled. ‘That is impossible!’ She said, shocked by the revelation. ‘I know both of them from Skye Estate. I thought Millie eloped with a beau?’ She clung to the hope that her friends were misinformed.

Anne shook her head, ‘There was talk that she might have eloped, but her family are adamant that she has been snatched.’

‘Who could be taking them? There has never been such a crime in our area before.’ Grace murmured.

‘You should ask the magistrate. He will have more details,’ Anne suggested.

Grace nodded. ‘Mr Smith did not mention any of this. If girls are going missing from the Skye Estate, then something is very wrong at Skye Manor. Could the new steward be involved?’

Charlotte scoffed. ‘I doubt it. As far as I know, he is just incompetent.’

‘So the tenants are being turned away when they ask for help?’ Grace asked, her voice rising in anger.

‘I am afraid so.’ Charlotte replied. ‘Many had their roofs damaged in the storms last month, and some lost their crops. When they approached the new steward for assistance, he refused. Father was furious—he has helped them this time because of his friendship with your late father, but this cannot continue.’

Grace clenched her fists. ‘I worked so hard to improve their lives, and now they are left at the mercy of a heartless landlord! Please thank your father, Charlotte—he has always been kind. And I suspect he sold me the cottage at a bargain out of generosity rather than disinterest.’

Charlotte scoffed again. ‘Hardly! It was a derelict building; he had no use for it. You have transformed it into something beautiful through sheer effort.’

Grace barely registered the compliment, lost in thought. She needed to uncover what was happening at Skye Estate—but how?

‘I hear the landlord is the Duke of Armitage,’ Charlotte said. ‘He is elderly and does not travel much.’

Grace frowned. ‘Then the real culprit must be this new steward—who, unsurprisingly, was recommended by my cousin.’

‘Father wrote to the Duke, but he never replied,’ Charlotte added. ‘Perhaps you could write to him aswell?’

Grace hesitated. ‘I should verify these claims before taking action. Perhaps I can make discreet inquiries with the magistrate first?’

Her friends agreed this was the best and safest course of action.

At that moment, Charlotte’s mother appeared, her overpowering perfume announcing her presence before she even spoke.

‘Grace, my dear, it has been so long!’ she simpered. ‘I believe the last time we saw you was when your suitor abandoned you for that heiress.’

Grace steeled herself, forcing a polite smile. It was going to be a long evening.

Charlotte opened her mouth to reply but was swiftly cut off.

‘Never mind, my dear. It is best for you to marry within your own kind—although it may be too late for you now,’ she added with a saccharine smile. Then, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, she continued, ‘I would advise your sister to do the same and leave off Mr Smith for one of our English young ladies. You know it is unbecoming of you to indulge her in the illusion that she has a chance with him.’

Charlotte’s mother had a way of reminding Grace exactly why she had chosen to remain unmarried. It was true her last suitor had abandoned her, but not for an heiress—rather, he had been repulsed by her deep interests in Indian and Islamic culture. When he discovered her heritage, his fondness quickly turned to disdain. After that heartbreak, Grace had resolved never to endure such rejection again—especially not for simply being herself.

As Charlotte’s mother prattled on with her disparaging remarks, Grace clenched her teeth but held her counsel. Retaliating would only give the woman cause to spread vicious gossip about Heather, and she would undoubtedly do her utmost to ruin her sister’s reputation. Instead, Grace forced herself to nod, letting the words roll over her, refusing to give the hateful woman the satisfaction of a reaction.

Once she had moved on in search of her next target, Charlotte turned to Grace, her expression deeply apologetic.

‘I am so sorry,’ she whispered.

Grace shook her head dismissively. ‘Think nothing of it. I know you endure far worse.’

Anne steered them towards a quieter corner, suggesting gently, ‘Perhaps we should get some refreshments.’

For the rest of the evening, the three friends remained together, laughing, reminiscing, and enjoying each other’s company. As the night drew to a close, they felt the sorrow of parting, knowing Anne and Charlotte would soon be leaving to visit family in other parts of England. Their absence would be keenly felt in the months ahead.

At the end of the assembly, they bid each other a fond farewell, promising to write often, only if Jimmy, as promised by Grace, crafted them a travelling writing desk.

TRUE TO HER WORD, GRACE sent a letter to the magistrate to enquire about the missing girls. She also dispatched Johnson to the farms to assess how the tenants fared, and she was deeply unhappy with the reports.

The magistrate confirmed that two girls, Millie Hayhurst and Leah Jones, were missing. Puzzlingly, he seemed confident they had run away from home due to the recent hardships caused by the storms. Grace, however, knew these girls and found the explanation unconvincing. They were sensible and would understand how difficult it was to find reputable work without a reference. The magistrate also mentioned that the families involved were struggling with extreme poverty. This made Grace hesitate with doubt. Perhaps her instincts were wrong. After all, abject poverty and hunger could drive even the most rational people to act desperately.

Johnson also disclosed that Gibbs and his three associates were raising rents in the name of Lord Armitage, leaving tenants struggling to put food on the table. No actual crime had been committed—landlords were within their rights to increase rent—but any fool could see that mistreating tenants would ultimately lead to their departure. If that happened, Skye Estate would become unviable, falling into disrepair. Surely Lord Armitage would not want that to happen.

She discussed the matter with Mr Smith, who was astonished.

‘This is very disturbing, Miss Skye. Why, I must inform the Duke straight away. Gibbs is abusing his position—this is extortion. I am certain Lord Armitage would not order him to raise the rents to such unattainable levels. It makes no sense for him to do so, as you say.’

‘I agree, Mr Smith,’ Grace replied, pleased by his concern. ‘Charlotte’s father wrote to Lord Armitage, but nothing has changed. Perhaps if you were to write, he might take it more seriously.’

Mr Smith took her suggestion to heart. Without delay, he began drafting the letter, determined to act at once. He then insisted on walking to the village himself to post it.

Heather and Grace decided to accompany him, and the three set off, completing the errand with speed. However, on the way back, they chose to dawdle. Mr Smith was eager to visit a local beauty spot, and Grace, ever obliging, promised to take them.

When they arrived, Grace took her time enjoying a ramble along the beach. She had allowed Heather and Mr Smith to walk ahead while she lingered, wasting time collecting shells and watching the rolling waves. The walk had done her good, she thought—it helped clear her head. Determined, she resolved to speak to the families of the missing girls. If they had run away, she would do what she could to bring them back.

Typical of English weather, the sky soon darkened, and a steady downpour of rain caught Grace unawares. Looking ahead, she saw that Mr Smith had the foresight to bring his umbrella, which would serve him and Heather well, but at such a distance, she could not benefit from it.

Glancing around for shelter, she spotted a familiar cave nearby. This area bordered Skye Estate, and she knew the terrain well. Hurrying inside, she took refuge.

A chill crept over her, and she retreated further into the cave, only to step on something sharp. Wincing, she knelt and examined it. Even in the dim light, she recognised what appeared to be broken glass. As her fingers traced the shards, she realised it was a shattered wine bottle. Though she was no drinker, she could tell from the thick glass and elaborate engraving that it was expensive—likely French.

A sudden noise from deeper within the cave made her freeze. Her pulse quickened. Smugglers? Wild animals? The possibility of either was enough to make her flee. Betty had often repeated the town gossip about French smugglers making secret deals with aristocrats along the coast, bringing contraband into England.

As Grace raced through the rain to catch up with the oblivious couple, she wondered if that was the case here. There were several Estates neighbouring Skye—any one of them could be involved.

When they finally returned to the cottage and Mr Smith took his leave, Heather looked positively exhilarated. Later, when Grace asked her about it, her little sister blushed furiously. The entire household was certain Mr Smith would propose any day now, and Heather herself believed it too. She shyly admitted that she would not be averse to it.

The following day, Mr Smith agreed to accompany them on a picnic to another beauty spot. Grace awoke excited for her sister, convinced that a proposal in such a setting would be perfect. As she made her way to the kitchen to check on the picnic preparations, she was surprised to find the room empty. Perplexed, she wandered through the downstairs rooms—no one was in sight.

A flicker of unease stirred within her.

Worried, she called out and hurried upstairs, following the murmur of voices coming from Heather’s room.

Sure enough, Betty and Mrs Merriweather were gathered around Heather, who was in tears. Alarmed, Grace rushed to her sister’s side.

‘What happened? What is the matter?’ she demanded.

Mrs Merriweather handed her a crumpled letter. ‘She got this from Mr Smith,’ she said solemnly. ‘You may as well read it.’

Grace snatched the letter and unfolded it hastily.

Dearest Heather,

I regret to inform you that my father has arranged a marriage for me with the daughter of a prominent London solicitor. His wish is that our families’ businesses merge, and he has insisted on my immediate departure to London.

I have been forced to comply, for if I refuse, he will cut me off entirely. With no funds or resources of my own, I have no choice but to obey.

I know I have made no formal promises to you, but I had hoped—one day—to propose. That dream has now been dashed.

I am truly sorry if I have caused you any pain.

I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

Your servant,

Paul

Grace’s grip on the letter tightened as fury burned in her chest.

‘Everyone, please leave me alone with my sister,’ she said gravely.

Once they had gone, Grace sat beside Heather, pulling her into a firm embrace as her sister sobbed into her shoulder. She held her tightly, whispering soothing words as the tears slowly subsided. Eventually, Heather drifted into an exhausted sleep, her breath still hitching now and then.

Grace gazed at her sister’s tear-streaked face, her own emotions simmering. She did not know who she was angrier with—Mr Smith, his father, or herself for ever encouraging this in the first place.