Chapter Five #2
As they approached the house, Katherine’s steps slowed involuntarily. Greythorne Manor was undeniably impressive, its grand facade of mellow stone gleaming in the late morning sunlight. But to Katherine, it would always be associated with the loneliest years of her life.
Lord Greythorne waited for them at the entrance, his tall figure silhouetted against the ornate doorway. As they drew near, Katherine noticed a frown creasing his brow.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
He gestured toward the roof. “Water damage. The north wing looks to have a significant leak, and from Thompson’s reaction when I inquired, it’s been an issue for some time.”
Katherine followed his gaze, noting the discoloured stone and evident signs of deterioration.
“Edmund was informed of the problem last winter,” she said. “He deemed repairs too costly and unnecessary, since that wing is rarely used.”
“Unnecessary?” Lord Greythorne repeated incredulously. “Doesn’t he—didn’t he understand that such neglect only leads to more extensive and expensive damage over time?”
“Edmund’s concerns were generally more immediate in nature,” Katherine replied carefully.
His grey eyes narrowed slightly, as if detecting the omissions in her statement. “You mean he preferred to spend money on things that brought him personal pleasure rather than maintaining his responsibilities.”
Katherine didn’t confirm or deny this assessment, though its accuracy startled her. For all his faults, Lord Greythorne seemed to grasp Edmund’s character with surprising clarity.
They were greeted in the entrance hall by Mrs. Finch, the housekeeper, whose face lit up at the sight of Katherine.
“My lady! What a joy to see you again.” She curtseyed deeply, then surprised Katherine by clasping her hands warmly. “The house has not been the same without you.”
Katherine returned the older woman’s greeting with genuine affection. Mrs. Finch had been one of the few bright spots during her time at Greythorne, offering quiet support and kindness when Edmund’s cruelty became too much to bear alone.
“It’s lovely to see you as well, Mrs. Finch. May I present my sister-in-law, the Duchess of Wexford?”
As the women exchanged pleasantries, Katherine noticed Lord Greythorne studying the grand staircase with a critical eye.
“The wood is rotting in places,” he murmured when she glanced at him questioningly. “And several balusters appear to be loose. Was the entire estate left to decay while my predecessor lived?”
There was no accusation in his tone, merely incredulity, which somehow made it worse. Katherine felt a flush of shame, as if she personally bore responsibility for Edmund’s neglect.
“Not everything,” she said defensively. “The tenant farms are generally well-maintained, and some of the village cottages were repaired just last year.”
“At your insistence, if I recall correctly,” Mrs. Finch interjected, having overheard their exchange. “The late earl would never have approved the expense if Lady Katherine hadn’t been so persuasive.”
Lord Greythorne raised an eyebrow. “Persuasive?”
Mrs. Finch seemed suddenly aware that she might have spoken out of turn.
“I only meant that my lady has always shown great concern for the welfare of the estate’s dependents,” she amended hastily.
“Indeed,” Lord Greythorne murmured, his gaze returning to Katherine with renewed interest. “How fortunate for them.”
Katherine felt distinctly uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “Mrs. Finch mentioned refreshments?”
“Yes, my lady. In the morning room, if you’ll follow me.”
As they proceeded through the house, Katherine noted Lord Greythorne’s growing consternation at each new sign of neglect they passed—peeling wallpaper in a corridor, a cracked window pane in the library, water stains marring the ceiling of the music room.
By the time they reached the morning room, his expression had darkened considerably.
“This is unconscionable,” he muttered, almost to himself. “How could anyone let a property of this significance fall into such disrepair?”
Katherine remained silent, unwilling to speak ill of Edmund, yet unable to defend his choices. The morning room, at least, was in relatively good condition, having been one of the few spaces she’d been permitted to maintain according to her own standards during her residence.
As they took their seats around a small table by the window, a footman entered with a tray of refreshments. Katherine noted with a pang that it was Richards, who had been a junior footman during her time as countess.
“My lady,” he said with a deep bow, his young face beaming with genuine pleasure. “The staff will be overcome with joy when they hear you’ve visited.”
“Thank you, Richards,” she replied warmly. “You’ve been promoted, I see.”
“Yes, my lady. After Simmons left, Mrs. Finch was kind enough to elevate me.”
Lord Greythorne, who had been examining a crack in the ceiling cornicing, turned his attention to the young man. “How many staff remain at Greythorne, Richards?”
The footman straightened. “Less than half the proper number, my lord. The late earl reduced the household significantly in recent years.”
“Yet another economy,” Lord Greythorne observed dryly as Richards departed. “One wonders where all the money went, if not into maintaining the estate or employing a full staff.”
Katherine took a sip of tea, avoiding his gaze. She knew exactly where the money had gone—gambling debts, expensive mistresses, and the elaborate town house Edmund had purchased for his latest paramour just months before his death. But such matters were hardly appropriate topics for discussion.
“The estate’s accounts will provide a more complete picture of expenditures,” she said instead.
“Indeed, they will,” Lord Greythorne agreed. “I’ve only seen preliminary figures thus far, but Thompson has promised a thorough review.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Thompson himself, looking somewhat harried.
“Forgive the intrusion, my lord, my ladies,” he said with a bow. “But there’s a delegation of tenant farmers requesting an audience. They’ve learned of your presence, Lady Katherine, and are most insistent.”
Katherine set down her cup in surprise. “A delegation? Whatever for?”
“They wish to discuss the mill, my lady. The repairs promised by the late earl were never completed, and with the spring rains, they fear it may not survive another season.”
Lord Greythorne frowned. “The mill is essential to the estate’s operation. Why would Edmund delay such critical repairs?”
“He claimed more pressing expenses in London,” Thompson replied, his carefully neutral tone suggesting he found this explanation as inadequate as Lord Greythorne clearly did.
“I see,” Lord Greythorne’s jaw tightened. “Very well, I shall meet with them immediately.”
“They’re asking specifically for Lady Katherine, my lord,” Thompson clarified hesitantly. “They say she always understood their concerns when the late earl did not.”
Katherine felt Lord Greythorne’s gaze on her once more, assessing, recalculating.
“That is... enlightening,” he said finally. “Lady Katherine, would you be willing to join me in meeting these tenants?”
His request caught her off guard. Edmund had never sought her input in such matters, despite the tenants’ evident preference for dealing with her.
“I... yes, of course,” she replied, surprised by her own ready agreement. “If you think it would be helpful.”
“I think it would be illuminating,” he corrected, rising to his feet. “For both of us.”
The tenant farmers had gathered in the estate office, a modest room adjacent to the library where Edmund had rarely set foot, having preferred to conduct business in London whenever possible.
There were five men in total, representing the major farms that comprised the Greythorne estate.
Katherine recognized each of them, having made it her business to know the tenants during her time as countess, despite Edmund’s disinterest.
“Lady Katherine.” Farmer Hobbs, the unofficial leader of the group, stepped forward with a respectful bow. “It does our hearts good to see you again.”
“Mr. Hobbs,” she replied warmly. “It’s lovely to see you all, though I understand there are concerns about the mill.”
“Aye, my lady. It’s the wheel mechanism—rotted through in places, and the late earl promised repairs after the last harvest before his passing. But nothing was done, and now...”
“Now you fear it won’t last through another season,” Lord Greythorne finished for him. “A legitimate concern, from what I’ve observed of the estate’s general condition.”
The farmers exchanged glances, clearly uncertain how to respond to this blunt assessment from their new landlord.
“We mean no disrespect to the late earl,” Farmer Hobbs said cautiously.
“Nor do I expect you to pretend all was well when it clearly was not,” Lord Greythorne replied. “I will welcome your honesty, Mr. Hobbs. The estate has been neglected, and addressing that neglect begins with acknowledging its existence.”
Katherine watched the tension ease from the farmers’ shoulders as they realized they would not be penalized for speaking frankly.
“In that case, my lord,” Hobbs continued, “the mill is only the most urgent of several problems. The bridge to the north fields is unsafe for heavy carts, and the drainage ditches along the eastern boundary need clearing before the autumn rains.”
Lord Greythorne listened attentively as each farmer outlined their concerns, occasionally asking clarifying questions or making notes in a small book he had produced from his pocket.
Katherine found herself increasingly impressed by his grasp of practical matters and his evident respect for the tenants’ expertise.
“These are all reasonable requests,” he said when they had finished. “The mill repairs will begin immediately. Thompson, see to it that materials are ordered and workmen engaged without delay.”
“Yes, my lord.” The steward looked visibly relieved.