Chapter 239 - Two Hundred And Thirty Nine
The early morning sun cast long shadows across the newly acquired creek parcel, where the rhythmic clang of hammers and the shouts of workmen already filled the air. Lord Byron stood on a slight rise, his booted feet planted firmly on the damp earth, surveying the burgeoning foundations of what was to be a formidable new Tarvan – The Golden Stag, he’d decided to call it, a defiant nod to his plan as a decoy for transporting illegal procurements. He wore practical, dark riding clothes, but his aristocratic bearing was undiminished as he issued instructions to the head stonemason.
"The east wing foundations, Mister Gibbs," Byron was saying, his voice crisp and authoritative as he pointed with a riding crop towards a section of newly laid stone, "I want them extended by another ten feet. The plans have been revised. And ensure the granite quoins are perfectly aligned. I will tolerate no sloppiness on this project."
Mister Gibbs nodded. "As you say, My Lord. Ten feet it is. And the quoins will be as straight as an arrow, you have my word." He hesitated. "It will require more stone than initially quoted, My Lord."
"Procure it," Byron said dismissively.
"Expense is secondary to perfection in this instance. This Tarvan is not merely a dwelling, Gibbs ; it is a statement. It will stand for centuries." He continued, overlooking the creek he now largely controlled.
As Mister Gibbs moved off to instruct his men, Elias approached, his footsteps silent on the turf. He had been observing from a discreet distance.
"My Lord," Elias greeted, his voice a low murmur. "I have just returned from the Duke’s Castle. There is news spreading through the servants’ gossip."
Byron turned, his expression unreadable. "And what is this news that has the scullery maids aflutter, Elias?" he asked, a hint of dry sarcasm in his tone.
"Her Grace, the Duchess Cassandra, is with child, My Lord," Elias replied, his gaze steady.