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Authors: Judith Miller

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BOOK: The Potter's Lady
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He leaned closer as fluted dishes of snowball custard were served to each of the guests. “Perhaps I should write my name on all the lines of your dance card before we finish dessert.”

At his mention of the dance, Rose was struck by an idea. Even though she’d given Beatrice a few lessons, the nanny remained fearful she’d appear foolish on the dance floor. She took a sip of water and turned toward Joshua. “I wonder if I could ask another favor of you.”

“Two favors in one evening?” He grinned. “For you, I may be able to manage two. Other than visiting my pottery, how else may I be of service to you?”

Rose quickly explained that she’d invited Beatrice to the dance, and the nanny’s fear of making a mistake on the dance floor. “I would be so grateful if you would dance with her several times throughout the evening. She’s a distant relative, and since she’s had few opportunities to attend formal parties, I want her to enjoy the evening.”

“Few opportunities or none at all?” Joshua gave her a sidelong glance. “Is this her
first
time at a formal dance?”

“Yes, but I did practice with her a wee bit, and she’s really quite agile. You need not—”

He held up his hand to stay her. “I only inquired so that I might know exactly what to expect. I had hoped to have the first dance with you, but if you think it would be more helpful to . . .” he hesitated. “What is her name?”

“Beatrice Murphy.”

He nodded and continued. “If you think it would be more helpful to Miss Murphy, I’ll sign her card for the first dance. And others if you’d like.”

“Oh, would you, Joshua?” Rose’s excitement mounted. “Your offer is truly generous.” She couldn’t believe her good fortune. Not only had Joshua agreed to have her tour his pottery, he was also going to dance with Beatrice. He was a kind gentleman, and she owed Laura a debt of gratitude for inviting him to her party. “Perhaps you could sign her card for the first two dances so she will feel comfortable if others don’t immediately ask her to dance.”

His brows dipped into a frown. “Why wouldn’t they? Is she unappealing?”

“Quite the opposite. When you see her, I think you’ll agree that she is lovely. But since she isn’t known to anyone other than our family, I worried the young men wouldn’t approach her.”

He tilted his head back and grinned. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you hadn’t attended many parties, Rose.”

His question set off her internal alarm. What had she said or done that made him think she was still a novice at social events? Doing her best to appear coy, she fluttered her eyelashes, a technique the girls at school often practiced. “Why would you say such a thing, Joshua? You attended a private school and know there are parties and dances every month.”

“True. But some of the fellows who weren’t particularly good-looking or lacked personality never attended a social function while at school. I imagine that would be true for some of the girls, as well.” His lips curved in a generous smile. “My earlier comment was rather obtuse. I should have said that if Beatrice is attractive, the men will flock to her, and you need not worry.”

When dinner came to an end and they made their way into the other room, Rose excused herself to fetch Beatrice. While ascending the stairs, she contemplated what Joshua had meant by his earlier remarks. Did he believe she hadn’t attended many parties because he thought her unattractive or dull? He’d been attentive throughout dinner, but his words struck a chord that took her back to humiliating events at school. Events she longed to forget.

Making her way to the third-floor nursery, Rose pushed the unpleasant thoughts from her mind. She didn’t want to ruin the evening with thoughts of school. Those days were behind her.

Ainslee sat in an overstuffed chair with Tessa snuggled beside her. “We’re having a bedtime story.” Ainslee motioned Rose closer. “Wait until you see Beatrice.”

Before she could say anything more, Beatrice stepped into the nursery. Rose’s breath caught as Beatrice turned in a circle, the yellow gown spilling at her feet like dazzling sunlight.

As she followed the nanny downstairs, Joshua’s words rang in Rose’s ears. She need not worry about Beatrice. Men would flock to her.

Instead of taking Joshua’s hand for the first dance, Rose was escorted by her brother onto the dance floor. The stringed instruments and flickering candlelight provided a pleasing ambiance that revealed Laura’s close attention to every detail of the party. While circling the room in her brother’s arms, Rose’s gaze drifted to the vision in yellow silk, who was smiling at Joshua. He returned her smile as they navigated the fringes of the room. A strange twinge of jealousy caught Rose by surprise. How silly. She barely knew Joshua and she’d asked him to dance with Beatrice. Why should she feel anything other than delight? Joshua had done exactly as she’d requested, and from all appearances, he was acting the perfect gentleman.

As the final strains of music resonated throughout Woodfield Manor, Ewan squeezed Rose’s hand. “Has someone claimed the next dance, or shall we continue?”

“Laura might desire the next dance with you.” Just because she’d asked Joshua to dance the first two dances with Beatrice was no reason Laura should give up dancing with her husband.

“I doubt I’ll manage even one dance with her tonight. Her dance card was full before I ever attempted to sign it.” He grinned. “If I know my wife, she’s gathering names of contacts who can possibly help us with the pottery business.”

Rose glanced toward her sister-in-law and observed her deep in conversation with a businessman from Pittsburgh. “I know I could never influence many folks, but I did manage an invitation to visit the Harkness Pottery Works in Fairmont.”

As they began the next dance, Ewan gave a slight nod. “I noticed you two talking all through supper. I was surprised he didn’t claim the first or second dance with you.”

Rose smiled as she detailed the arrangement she’d made with Joshua. “He’s signed my card for the next dance, but I was grateful for his help.”

Ewan turned his attention toward the couple. “From what I can see, I don’t think you unduly burdened the lad. Both he and Beatrice appear to be having a fine time.” As they continued to circle the floor, Ewan nodded in Beatrice’s direction. “What you did for Beatrice was a kind gesture, but I hope you’ve told her she won’t be attending parties in the future. She’s been employed to care for Tessa, and I’m sure this could cause some jealousy among others who work in the house.”

Rose’s cheeks flamed. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t given thought to Beatrice’s appearance at the party creating additional problems. I’m sure Beatrice understands, but I’ll talk to her in the morning just to be clear.”

Moments later the dance ended, and Ewan took Rose’s hand and escorted her to Joshua’s side. “I’ve delivered my sister, Joshua. I believe you have the next dance with her.”

Several young men now surrounded Beatrice, all of them vying to sign her dance card. One of them nudged Joshua’s arm. “You’ve certainly taken more than your share of dances with Miss Murphy.”

He leaned close to Rose’s ear. “Only as a favor to you.”

“In that case, I’m sure you can resolve the frustration of these young men and cross your name from her dance card.”

“Absolutely.” Joshua cleared his throat. “Since I’ve already had the pleasure of two dances with Miss Murphy, you gentlemen may remove my name from further dances on her card. That should give most of you an opportunity to become acquainted with her.”

Beatrice appeared to wilt when Joshua offered to relinquish his dances, but she soon regained her confidence. “All but the last dance. I refuse to have any of you write over his name for that one. My first dance was with Mr. Harkness, and I would like to end the evening with him, as well.” Her lips curved in a demure smile as she turned toward Rose. “You don’t mind, do you, Rose?”

“No, of course not.” Her heart thudded in her chest with such force, she was certain anyone nearby could hear the hammering beat. She clenched her hands into tight fists. Her heart cried out against Beatrice’s request, but with a group of onlookers surrounding Beatrice, there was no choice. Besides, a proper hostess would never deny such an appeal.

When the music began, Joshua extended his hand. “I do hope you aren’t displeased that I signed for several of Beatrice’s dances. When I looked at her card and saw all those empty lines, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pity for her.”

“Thank you for your kindness to her.” Rose forced a smile. “I was surprised that you’d signed for the last dance with her.”

He loosened his hold a modicum and looked down at her. “I do apologize. This is your graduation party, and I should have asked to be your partner for the last dance, but I assumed you had already given that dance to another.” The lights in the room glistened as he attempted to soothe her. “Beatrice worried she wouldn’t have a partner when the evening ended, so I signed her card.”

Rose wanted to tell him she’d expected to enjoy the last dance with him, but she was being foolish. She hadn’t seen Joshua for several years, and they’d never been well acquainted. Just because he was attentive at supper didn’t mean he wanted to share every moment with her.

Besides, her future would be at the pottery in Grafton, not with Joshua Harkness in Fairmont.

Chapter 8

Grafton, West Virginia

R
ylan’s breath caught as he sorted through the mail at the post office. The return address on the envelope revealed the letter was from Ewan McKay. Clutching the letter in his hand, he sprinted toward the pottery with his mind racing faster than his feet. What if Mr. McKay had decided to purchase the brickyard rather than the pottery? What would Mr. Bancock do? What would the employees do? He squeezed the mail a little tighter as his thoughts skittered like grease in a hot skillet. Mr. Bancock must sell the business, but a new owner would likely mean changes.

There had been no other offers before or after Mr. McKay’s visit, and Mr. Bancock’s newspaper advertisements hadn’t yielded any further prospective buyers. Rylan offered a silent prayer that this letter would bear good news for all of them. He wanted the best for Mr. Bancock, but he longed to have things stay the same. A few minutes later, he crossed the steel railroad tracks that divided the pottery from the main section of town.

Waving the letter overhead as he entered the office, he stepped alongside Mr. Bancock’s desk and came to a halt. “The letter arrived.” He dropped the mail on the owner’s desk and inhaled several gulps of air. Still fighting to catch his breath, he tapped his finger on the envelope. “From Mr. McKay.”

Mr. Bancock nodded but made no move to retrieve the letter from atop his desk. “I can see it is from Mr. McKay.”

The suspense of the moment was almost more than Rylan could withstand. He pranced from foot to foot, like a child awaiting a peppermint stick. “Would ya like me to open it?”

The old man’s weathered features folded into a frown. “I am not so frail I cannot rip open an envelope.”

Just when Rylan thought he could bear it no longer, Mr. Bancock slid the envelope toward the edge of the desk and traced his fingers across his name. With slowness that set Rylan further on edge, Mr. Bancock turned over the envelope and ran his finger beneath the seal. With the same unhurried movement, the owner withdrew and unfolded the letter.

“What does it say? Is he going to be the new owner?” Rylan grasped the spindles of a nearby straight-backed chair and pulled it close to the desk. He dropped into the chair and fixed his gaze on the pottery owner. “Well?”

Mr. Bancock removed his wire-rimmed glasses and placed them on the desk. “Mr. McKay has made an offer to purchase my business but for less than I had asked.”

Rylan watched his employer for some sign of either elation or displeasure. Mr. Bancock wouldn’t be pleased to sell for less than his asking price, but with his diminishing health, surely he would view any respectable offer as a godsend.

“Is it a price you are willing to accept?”

If Mr. Bancock didn’t do something soon, all of their skilled workers were going to quit and find work elsewhere, which would make the business even more difficult to sell.

Mr. McKay’s visit had troubled any number of employees, and Rylan had heard rumors that some of them had been discussing a move to East Liverpool. Rylan had approached the workers and attempted to ease their concerns, but to no avail.

“First I must pray. I believe Mr. McKay is an honest man, but that doesn’t mean he’s offered me the value of my business.”

Rylan tipped his head to the side. “I do not want to offend you, but the price you placed on the business may not be the proper value. Over the years you’ve cared for this pottery as if it was yar own wee child. Have you thought that the price you set for the place might be includin’ some of that love you hold in yar heart?” Rylan arched his brows. “Much as ya love this place, ya know what the doctor has said.”

Mr. Bancock folded the piece of paper and returned it to the envelope before tucking it into the pocket of his jacket. “I know there’s not much choice but to accept his offer, but I’ll not be doing anything until I spend some time in prayer. Best you not say anything to anyone else. When the business is sold, I want to be the one to tell the workers. And if it’s to Mr. McKay, I’ll ask him to be present when I do.” Though it was only two o’clock, Mr. Bancock pushed to his feet. “I’m going home for the remainder of the day. Please see to closing up, Rylan.”

BOOK: The Potter's Lady
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