Chapter Seven
“If you would stop disagreeing with me simply to be difficult, this process would be far more efficient,” Katherine said with as much politeness as she could muster, closing the ledger without a thud.
They had been working in Greythorne’s great hall for the better part of three hours.
Papers and ledgers were strewn across the massive oak table, and Katherine’s carefully organized notes had gradually descended into chaos as Lord Greythorne—Drake, as she was now permitted to call him in private—challenged virtually every recommendation she made.
“I’m not being difficult,” he replied with infuriating calm. “I’m being practical. Prioritizing repairs to the tenant cottages is admirable, but if the main house roof isn’t addressed before autumn, the damage will double.”
“The tenants cannot simply move to another house if theirs becomes uninhabitable,” Katherine countered. “You, however, have multiple properties at your disposal.”
Drake’s eyebrows rose. “Are you suggesting I abandon Greythorne Manor to the elements while I reside elsewhere?”
“I’m suggesting,” Katherine said, “that a family with small children huddling in a leaking cottage presents a more urgent need than some water damage to an unused guest wing.”
They had been having variations of this same discussion since Katherine had arrived that morning.
She hadn’t intended to return to Greythorne so soon after their encounter at the Collins cottage, but the lists she’d compiled of necessary repairs and their costs had grown too comprehensive to simply send via messenger.
And if she were being entirely honest with herself, she’d been curious to see whether Drake would follow through on his promises of immediate action.
To her surprise, he had.
In the week since their last meeting, work had already begun on the Collins cottage, materials had been ordered for the mill repairs, and Thompson had conducted a thorough survey of all tenant properties requiring attention. It was more progress than Edmund had made in five years.
It was also, however, somewhat haphazard. Which was why Katherine had taken it upon herself to create a systematic approach to addressing the estate’s many needs.
“The western tenant cottages should be addressed first,” she insisted, tapping her finger on the relevant page of her notes. “They’re in the most dire condition, and the families there have endured neglect the longest.”
Drake ran a hand through his hair, a gesture she’d noticed he made when particularly frustrated. “The roofing materials ordered for the manor could be diverted to the cottages, but that would delay the main house repairs until new materials arrive.”
“Exactly,” Katherine said, sensing a potential compromise. “The manor repairs would be delayed by what, three weeks? Four at most? Meanwhile, the cottage repairs could begin immediately.”
He studied her for a moment, and Katherine had the distinct impression he was weighing not just her suggestion but her motives as well.
“This matters a great deal to you,” he observed.
“Of course, it matters,” she replied, caught off guard by the shift in conversation. “These are people’s lives, not merely entries in a ledger.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Drake leaned back in his chair, his grey eyes intent on her face.
“You could have simply provided your lists and recommendations, then returned to Willow Park or London. Instead, you’re here, arguing over every detail as if.
.. as if you still considered yourself responsible for Greythorne. ”
Katherine felt a flush rise to her cheeks. “As I told you before, I consider myself responsible for people who relied on me for years. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” He tilted his head slightly. “Most widows in your position would retire gracefully to their dower properties and leave their successors to manage as they see fit.”
“I am not ‘most widows,’” Katherine replied stiffly. “And if you had any real understanding of estate management, I wouldn’t need to be here at all.”
She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Drake’s expression hardened.
“I managed substantial business interests in America quite successfully,” he said, his voice deceptively mild. “But I concede that English estate management has its... peculiarities.”
Katherine sighed, suddenly weary of the conversation “I didn’t mean to imply you’re incapable. Merely that you’re new to Greythorne, while I’ve worked with these people for years.”
“Worked with them, or for them?” he asked, his tone genuinely curious rather than confrontational.
The question gave her pause. “Both, I suppose. Edmund viewed the estate as nothing more than a source of income to fund his pursuits in London. Someone had to ensure it functioned properly in his absence.”
“And that someone was you.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” Katherine admitted. “Though always within the severe constraints Edmund imposed. Every improvement, every repair required extensive justification and often outright deception to secure necessary funds.”
Drake’s brow furrowed. “Deception?”
Katherine hesitated, then decided honesty was the most expedient path. “I occasionally represented certain expenses as more urgent or severe than they were to ensure appropriate resources were allocated. Edmund was... selective in what he considered worthy of investment.”
To her surprise, Drake’s mouth curved in what might have been admiration. “You falsified reports to your husband?”
“I prioritized the estate’s needs over Edmund’s preferences,” Katherine corrected, though there was little real difference. “Had I not, conditions would be even worse than what you’ve inherited.”
Drake studied her with renewed interest. “Thompson mentioned something similar—that you found ‘creative solutions’ to estate problems. I hadn’t realized the extent of your creativity.”
Katherine couldn’t tell if he was amused or scandalized by her confession. “Do you disapprove?”
“On the contrary,” he replied, surprising her again. “I admire resourcefulness, particularly when applied to worthy causes. Though I would prefer you didn’t feel the need for such tactics in our current... collaboration.”
“Collaboration,” Katherine repeated, testing the word.
It wasn’t how she would have described their relationship, yet there was truth in it. They were, in fact, working toward a common goal.
“Would you prefer a different term?” Drake asked, a hint of challenge in his voice.
“No,” she decided. “Collaboration is accurate enough, provided you actually consider my recommendations rather than simply arguing with each one.”
“I consider all your recommendations,” he countered. “I simply don’t agree with all of them.”
“You don’t agree with any of them,” Katherine corrected, exasperation creeping back into her voice.
“That’s not true.” Drake shuffled through the papers before him, extracting a page covered in Katherine’s neat handwriting.
“I agreed with your assessment of the mill repairs, your suggestions for the Collins cottage reinforcements, and your recommendation to hire local labourers rather than bringing in workers from Thornfield.”
Katherine blinked, surprised that he had been paying such close attention.
“That’s... true,” she acknowledged reluctantly.
“I don’t disagree simply to be difficult, Katherine,” he said, using her given name with a casual ease that still startled her. “I disagree when I believe there’s a better approach.”
There was something oddly invigorating about his directness.
Edmund had never engaged with her ideas, either dismissing them outright or, worse, pretending to consider them while having already decided to ignore her counsel.
Drake, for all his stubbornness, at least treated her perspective as worthy of genuine consideration.
“Very well,” she said, reopening the ledger she had so dramatically closed minutes earlier. “Let’s return to the question of prioritization. I maintain that the tenant cottages should come first, but I concede that the manor’s roof requires attention before the autumn rains.”
Drake’s eyebrows rose slightly at this concession, but he nodded. “What if we divide the roofing materials? The most critical sections of the manor roof, and the worst of the tenant cottages first, with the remainder to follow as new materials arrive.”
It was a reasonable compromise, and precisely the solution Katherine herself might have proposed had she not been so determined to champion the tenants’ cause above all else.
“That seems... sensible,” she agreed, making a note in her book.
“Excellent.” Drake made his own notation on a separate sheet. “Now, about the drainage issues on the eastern boundary...”
They continued working through the list, and to Katherine’s surprise, the process became notably more productive once they had both acknowledged the possibility of compromise.
Over the next hour, they established a clear plan for immediate repairs, allocating resources and setting priorities in a way that balanced the estate’s many needs.
“I believe that covers the most urgent matters,” Katherine said finally, reviewing her notes with satisfaction. “The remainder can be addressed as finances allow.”
“Speaking of finances,” Drake said, pulling a leather-bound ledger toward him, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
Katherine tensed involuntarily. Discussions of money had never boded well during her marriage.
“Yes?”
“These quarterly accounts from the western fields,” he said, opening the ledger to a marked page. “The yields are consistently higher than comparable acreage elsewhere on the estate. What methods are you employing that we might implement more broadly?”
The question was so unexpected that it took Katherine a moment to gather her thoughts.