“If you will get another chair, I shall move this one over.” The table had been made to seat several family members at one time and was more than large enough for two people to spread out papers as they worked. After the chairs had been moved, she took her list from her reticule and placed it on the desk. “Here are the names of people who might like to move to your town and estate. Once we have settled on what you require, I will have to ascertain that they are willing.”

“Of course.” He took his paper out of a pocket. “There is no point in raising expectations until we have made the decisions.”

She spread out the foolscap next to his. “I think the easiest way to proceed is to go down your list of needs and match them with my list of people who might be interested.” He nodded. “Well, then, let us start at the top. I assume by farmers you mean tenant farmers.”

“Yes. The winter was particularly hard on them.” He had a grim look on his face, as if he was again experiencing the deaths.

Eleanor wanted to cover his hand lying on the table with hers. “How many do you require?”

“Seven. Seven families died.” Montagu’s voice was choked with grief.

“I cannot bring them back.” Eleanor softened her voice. “But I am able to give new life to those farms. I have at least that many young families and young men looking for their own places.” That was especially true at Stanwood, where many of the families were large. “I will have to tell them exactly where they will be living and the state of the houses and land.”

He cleared his throat. “The land is good, and it’s been planted.”

That was a relief. “The houses?”

“All in good repair.” The corners of his lips rose slightly. “We had even added rooms to a few cottages. I can’t remember if I told you, but I have taken in several widows with children. It would be helpful to have some single men who wish to wed.”

“I believe that can be arranged. I took in a widow with young children, and she was married within two months.” Eleanor made a point of sounding cheerful.

“A widow whose husband had been killed at Cinderloo?”

“Yes. I was visiting my sister Charlotte, and the children were huddled beside the road.” She told him the rest of the story. “It has turned out well for all of them.” Eleanor glanced at his list. “A blacksmith is next. I do have a well-qualified candidate for you. Interestingly enough, our blacksmith’s elder son and his father are always at odds. The son has been on the verge of leaving several times already. I am certain he will be interested in taking over the smithy.”

Montagu’s brow furrowed. “What is the reason they do not get on?”