Page 7 of The Spinster's Resolve

A fter Mr Smith’s departure, Grace visited the families of the missing girls. She was shocked by the level of hardship they had been reduced to and was grateful she had brought a hamper of food with her. However, upon questioning them, she found herself more baffled than before.

Both girls, on separate occasions, had told their families they were going for a walk to the beach and never returned. Their families had searched every pathway leading to the shore and the main roads. They had even made enquiries at all the inns along the routes to neighbouring towns, including London. Yet no one had seen them, nor was there any indication they had boarded a coach. More worryingly, neither of them had taken any personal belongings, nor had they expressed to family or friends any intention of leaving. They had simply disappeared without a trace.

A few days later, Grace received an unexpected visitor. Mary Trent was ushered in by Betty, looking distraught. Concerned, Grace invited her in and offered her refreshments. It was not long before Mary revealed the reason for her sudden visit.

‘Oh, Miss Skye! I am sorry to burden you with our troubles when I know you’ve been hard done by that relative of yours.’

‘There now, Mary,’ Grace soothed as the woman dissolved into noisy sobs. She handed her a handkerchief and murmured gentle words to calm her.

Eventually, Mary managed to speak again. ‘I didn’t know where to turn, Miss. I know my Chris wouldn’t like it if he knew I had come to you. That new steward has ordered another rent increase. We were already struggling, but we managed to keep up with the payments.’ She blew her nose. ‘Then we had that awful rain and storm, and the crops were damaged.’

‘I heard about that,’ said Grace, as Mary burst into fresh tears.

‘Aye, well, Miss, we were just about getting by until then, but now we can barely feed ourselves. So we went to see Steward Gibbs at the Manor. He was ever so harsh with Chris, but in the end, he agreed to let us off the rent for a few months...’

‘Well, that should help!’ Grace exclaimed, relieved.

But at her words, Mary exploded into a fresh wail, leaving her bewildered.

‘No, Miss, it ain’t no help to us at all! Because he only agreed on the condition that our Melissa goes to work at the Manor—and I hear nefarious things are going on up there.’

‘What do you mean?’ Mrs Merriweather interjected, looking shocked.

‘I ain't meaning to alarm you, Miss, but I heard from my cousin—she still does the laundry for them—that the steward has been inviting his friends over, and they hold these parties where ladies of a certain repute from London are entertained, if you know what I mean.’ Mary tapped her nose. ‘She said some of the staff told her there’s gambling, opium, and all sorts going on. And worse still, the men have been getting handsy with some of the younger maids. They are all talking of leaving, Miss. In fact—’ she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, ‘—a couple of local girls have gone missing. Between you and me, I think it has something to do with the goings-on at the Manor.’

‘Mary, the magistrate said they ran away from home,’ Grace replied, though unease prickled at her. The thought that young women could be abducted on her beloved Estate horrified her. Worse still, the idea that her former home was now a place of immorality and illegal dealings sickened her.

‘The magistrate knows nothing,’ Mary scoffed. ‘No one dares speak out for fear of losing their post—or worse. But I always trust my instincts, Miss, and that whole bunch up there are up to no good, if you ask me. I will not sleep a wink if my Melissa is sent to work there.’

‘You cannot mean to say that they are kidnapping girls in the countryside?’ Heather looked alarmed.

‘What makes you think the girls were kidnapped?’ Mrs Merriweather asked.

‘Well, to start with, Farmer Jones and Farmer Hayhurst checked all the coaching inns and asked around, but no one has seen them. If they ran off to London or a nearby town, as the magistrate claims, surely someone would have noticed two young, unaccompanied pretty girls on the roads or at the inns. But it is as if they vanished into thin air! I say it is unnatural. They must be using sorcery, because no one saw a thing.’

‘Is there any proof that Gibbs was involved in their disappearance?’ Grace asked apprehensively, growing impatient with Mary’s superstitions.

‘No, but I just know it in my gut, Miss. Nothing like this happened before they arrived.’

‘So what are the families doing? Have they taken their concerns to the magistrate or the constable?’ asked Mrs Merriweather.

‘Yes, but they were no help at all. The constable—that useless buffoon—insists the girls simply ran away and refuses to investigate further. And he has managed to convince the magistrate as well. We have tried seeking help from the neighbouring Estates, but they have turned us away. There is no way I will let my daughter work at that Manor. Is there anything you can do to help us, Miss?’ she asked tentatively, peering at Grace.

Mrs Merriweather, stunned by Mary’s revelations, spilled her tea all over the table.

Grace, however, was livid. How could this be happening? She wanted nothing more than to give Lord Armitage a piece of her mind for being an absentee landlord. And she was sorely tempted to confront this Steward Gibbs as well.

‘Now, Miss Grace,’ said Mrs Merriweather in her usual voice of reason, reading Grace’s thoughts, ‘it would do no good, and you know it. You have no sway in this matter. You don’t want to invite trouble—by the sounds of it, this steward and his men are dangerous.’

‘Surely, we must do something!’ cried Heather heatedly, pumping her fist into the air.

Since receiving the letter, Heather had become increasingly withdrawn. When she was not aloof, she was irritable. Though her reaction was not wholly unexpected, her anger unsettled the other ladies in the house.

Grace, eager to diffuse the situation as Heather’s frustration mounted into a full-blown denunciation of the male species, quickly reassured Mary. She informed her that Charlotte’s father and Mr Smith had already written to Lord Armitage about the troubling situation and that she, too, would send a letter. This seemed to placate Mary, instilling a glimmer of hope. As the discussion shifted, Heather, having lost her catalyst for outrage, gradually calmed—especially after a few pointed looks from Mrs Merriweather.

‘I know Melissa is a good cook. We can’t pay much, but would you consider letting her work here with us?’ Grace suggested.

Mary readily agreed and left with a basket of food from the kitchen, promising to send her daughter the next day.

After she departed, Grace set about writing her third letter to Lord Armitage. But as she put pen to paper, doubts gnawed at her.

Weeks had passed since she had first spoken to Charlotte about this, and nothing had changed. What if Lord Armitage simply did not care? Worse still, what if he had instructed Gibbs to act in this manner?

Yet, as soon as she considered it, she dismissed the notion. No landlord would willingly sabotage his own Estate’s prosperity. Surely, Gibbs’ actions were causing financial losses. And then there were the missing girls—surely a coincidence?

How could a mere steward be involved in such a heinous crime?

AFTER MELISSA SETTLED in (much to the Skye sisters’ relief), she took to the household like a duck to water. Her culinary skills delighted the ladies , while Betty was overjoyed to have finally found a gossip partner . However, it was Jimmy who seemed the most pleased—his feelings were made abundantly clear by the way he regularly blushed in her presence.

Unfortunately, the staff of Skye Manor were not as lucky as Melissa. A steady stream of employees began arriving at the cottage, each confirming the distressing reports about the Estate and the Manor. Several young maids had been harassed by Gibbs and his men. They wanted to leave, but Gibbs refused to provide them with character references.

Polly, one of the maids, recounted her ordeal in a trembling voice. ‘And then... and then,’ she sobbed, ‘he said that he could make me rich if I agreed to...’ She hesitated, her face burning with shame. ‘If I agreed to lie with him and his friends. When I refused, he laughed and tried to grab me! I barely managed to escape.’

Mrs Merriweather looked aghast. ‘Oh, my goodness, my poor dear! This is dreadful!’

‘I know, Mrs M. All the younger maids are hiding as much as we can. We only go to clean rooms in groups. Gibbs and his men are always making lewd remarks and trying to manhandle us. Only the older maids are spared.’

‘Have you been to the magistrate?’ Heather asked urgently.

‘Mr Taylor tried, but nothing came of it. It is Mr Gibbs’ word against a servant!’ Polly said bitterly, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief.

‘This is outrageous! Something has to be done!’ Heather cried, her voice shaking with fury.

Grace took Polly’s hand in hers. ‘Come now, dry your tears. I will write your character reference, and any other maids needing one can come to me.’

Polly gasped. ‘Oh, thank you, Miss Skye! If it were not for you, we would be in dire straits.’

Grace gave her a reassuring nod, but a troubling thought surfaced. ‘Do you think Gibbs or his “friends” had anything to do with Leah and Millie’s disappearance?’

Polly’s face darkened. ‘I don’t know, Miss Skye. I would certainly not put it past them. But I have no proof, and neither do the other staff. Gibbs makes sure we are dismissed for the evenings before his guests arrive. We are only allowed back in the mornings to clean. Sometimes, like the other night, his men are still there, passed out in the parlours or bedrooms.’

After Polly left, the women sat in stunned silence.

If Gibbs and his men were capable of harassing their own staff and tenants, could they also be capable of something worse?

For the first time, Grace began to agree with Mary’s gut feeling. As the room remained heavy with unspoken fears, a plan was already forming in Grace’s mind.

She was determined to get to the bottom of this.

If the Duke did not reply, there was a real possibility that his letters were being intercepted and that he was completely unaware of Gibbs’ actions. The more she considered it, the more plausible it seemed. After all, what landlord would willingly allow his Estate to crumble?

Without informing her family, Grace set off the next day to confront Gibbs.

No sooner had she departed than she had second thoughts. She cursed her impulsiveness and hesitated, considering turning back. But then Mary’s and Polly’s distraught faces came to mind. Setting her jaw, she urged her horse forward. The wind whipped against her as she rode, her determination hardening with every stride.

As she approached the Manor, a pang of homesickness struck her. She had not allowed herself to feel it before. The grand house still stood tall and proud, but the gardens bore the wild neglect of abandonment. It lacked a woman’s touch.

Taylor opened the door, his surprise quickly giving way to pleasure. Yet, when she asked to see Gibbs, an undercurrent of anxiety flickered in his expression. He was afraid.

‘Miss Skye, Mr Gibbs is indisposed at the moment,’ Taylor said hesitantly.

Grace understood at once—Gibbs had spent the night drinking and was likely still unconscious. Undeterred, she made her way into the morning room to wait. The room reeked of alcohol, cigars, and sweat. The once-cosy space had been transformed into a dank and gloomy den. Gaming tables were scattered around, littered with decanters and empty bottles. The curtains remained drawn, shrouding the room in a stale, oppressive air.

Sometime later, heavy footsteps echoed down the hall.

The door burst open, and in stepped a heavy-set man in his fifties. The stench of stale alcohol preceded him, hitting Grace before he even spoke. She instinctively raised a hand to cover her nose.

He raked his bloodshot eyes over her.

Leering, he stepped forward and slammed the door shut behind him.

Grace’s heart pounded. For the first time, she regretted coming alone. But she reminded herself that Taylor was nearby.

‘What have we here?’ His voice was gruff, still thick with drink.

Bracing herself, she squared her shoulders and spoke with as much authority as she could muster. ‘My name is Miss Grace Skye, daughter of Mr Richard Skye, the previous owner of Skye Estate. I wish to discuss the tenant situation with you.’

He smirked. ‘Ah, so you are the impoverished spinster Charles spoke of.’

Grace ignored the insult. ‘Mr Gibbs, the tenants are deeply distressed by the increased rents and the lack of maintenance, particularly after the recent storms. Many have become impoverished, especially after the flooding damaged their crops.’ She paused, hoping for a sign of understanding. Instead, his expression remained cold.

‘I have come to appeal to your sense of fairness. Could you reconsider the rent hikes and offer them some relief during these hard times?’

Gibbs sneered. ‘Who do you think you are, telling me how to do my job?’

She took a steadying breath. ‘I am not dictating to you, sir, merely requesting.’

He turned away and poured himself a drink, downing it in one go.

Grace now felt certain—this was a lost cause. She realised she had put herself in a dangerous situation.

‘I am sure Lord Armitage would not approve of how you are managing his Estate,’ she said.

Gibbs spun clumsily around, his bloodshot eyes flaring with sudden fury.

‘You have no right to question me! I have powerful friends. If you interfere, I will make sure you never see the light of day!’

Grace barely had time to react before he lunged. His hand clamped around her throat, dragging her close, his breath reeking of liquor.

‘I know men who would pay a high price for a pretty virgin spinster like you,’ he leered. ‘But I might just have a taste for myself.’

Panic surged through her. Summoning every ounce of strength, she drove her knee into his groin. He howled in agony. Seizing the moment, she struck him across the head with her reticule and bolted.

Grace rode back to the cottage as though the hounds of hell were on her tail. Bursting into her room, she locked the door and collapsed onto her bed, her whole body trembling.

Grace’s mind raced, but eventually, she calmed sufficiently to realise that Gibbs had been threatened by the mere mention of Lord Armitage. He had been acting without the Duke’s knowledge—she was certain of it now. If Charles had recommended him, could he be responsible for this entire mess? The thought that a member of her own family might be so treacherous fuelled her need for justice. She needed to warn the Duke—but how could she do so without Gibbs finding out?

It was clear that Gibbs was not acting alone; otherwise, how could a mere steward maintain his position while behaving so abominably without being exposed or dismissed? He must have accomplices.

Grace resolved to write another letter, detailing what she had learnt from Mary and the other staff. However, out of sheer embarrassment, she decided not to mention her disastrous encounter with Gibbs. Likewise, she felt that mentioning the missing girls without evidence was premature. After completing the letter, she hesitated. What if it fell into the hands of one of his corrupt employees? To avoid this, she decided it must be sent directly to Lord Armitage himself.

But how? The idea struck her—Mr Smith could deliver it in person.

Then she remembered. Heather was heartbroken and refused even to speak his name. Though Grace was furious that Mr Smith had caused her sister such pain, she understood what Heather could not: a gentleman needed something to live on and love alone could not provide that. If she contacted Mr Smith, it would have to remain between them. There was no benefit in mentioning it to her sister.

She immediately set to work on the letter. It was difficult to strike the right balance—asking for a favour without appearing to condone his treatment of Heather. After several attempts, she completed a version she was satisfied with.

After posting it, she rose each morning in anticipation. At length, a letter in Mr Smith’s familiar hand arrived.

Dear Miss Skye,

I wish to reassure you that I have personally delivered your letter to Lord Armitage, who sends his gratitude. I had no idea matters had become so dire at Skye Estate.

Curiously, during my meeting with His Grace, he mentioned that Mr Gibbs had been submitting the Estate’s profits on time and in full each month. If the tenants are struggling to pay, then how is Mr Gibbs managing to supply the expected sums? Where is this income coming from?

I am certain His Grace will launch a full investigation. He spoke of sending a trusted individual to Skye Estate to deal with Mr Gibbs.

Lastly, I wish to express my sincere regret for my behaviour towards your sister. It will remain a great source of sorrow for me.

I remain at your service should you require any further assistance.

Sincerely,

Grace was relieved that her plan had been executed and that some of her guilt was alleviated. However, a few weeks after sending the letter, troubling news reached them—Mr Gibbs had disappeared. The town was abuzz with gossip, but more alarmingly, another girl had gone missing on the very same day.

This news struck the Skye sisters deeply—their beloved new cook, Melissa, had vanished without a trace.

Melissa, on her days off, would visit her family. On this occasion, Jimmy had taken her on the cart. When she failed to return the following day, Grace felt a growing unease. With a sense of urgency, she made her way to the farm.

Melissa’s family recounted what they knew: she had visited a friend that afternoon. This friend confirmed that Melissa had been with her but had left in the late afternoon, intending to return home for supper. Yet, as the night fell, she never arrived. Her family was beside themselves with worry.

Determined to find her, Grace and Melissa’s family organised a search party, scouring the area over several days. But Melissa was nowhere to be found.

Mary was inconsolable, unable to be comforted by either Heather or Grace.

‘The constable says she ran away, but I know my Melissa. She wouldn’t leave her family like this,’ Mary cried. ‘It’s him—he’s gone and kidnapped her! I know he has! He knew Chris would kill him if anything happened to her, that’s why the coward has left the Estate. I just know it!’

No one could persuade Mary otherwise, and Grace was beginning to agree with her. Melissa had shown no signs of discontent at Skye Cottage—quite the opposite. And yet, aside from the fact that Gibbs had vanished on the very same day, there was no evidence linking him to her disappearance. With little trace of either of them, there was frustratingly little that could be done.

Even stranger was the manner of Gibbs’s departure. None of his belongings had been taken. He had informed the staff he would be riding out to the Estate yet never returned. More bizarrely, the prized stallion he had ridden, came back to the Skye stable without its rider later that same day.

A search party had been dispatched by the constable, but to no avail. How thorough this search had been was another matter entirely—Grace suspected it was a half-hearted effort, given how unpopular Mr Gibbs had been. His supposed friends were nowhere to be found either, and the staff at Skye Manor speculated that they had fled the county at the same time.

Grace feared that Gibbs had discovered her letter to Lord Armitage and had been tipped off. What if he had followed her back to the cottage that day and decided to kidnap the first female he could get his hands on as revenge? The thought sickened her. If so, what if he sought further retribution?

These thoughts put her on edge. She avoided walking alone and ensured Heather did the same. The unease in her heart refused to settle—Melissa was still missing, and so was the truth.

One morning, Heather approached Grace with a letter in hand. ‘Gracy, a letter has arrived for you... it smells lovely.’ She sniffed the paper before handing it over.

Grace noted that the letter had a distinct fragrance of sandalwood and something else intriguing. Upon opening it, she found elegant, broad, and masculine writing.

Miss Skye,

I would be honoured if you could attend Skye Manor at your earliest convenience to discuss an important matter.

Sincerely,

Mr Gabriel Stone