The Potter's Lady (6 page)

Mr. Bancock grasped the papers in his right hand and moved away from the window. “You’re right. I might as well accomplish something this morning.”

Moments later, Rylan patted the gentleman’s shoulder. “They’re coming, Mr. Bancock.”

He pushed up from his desk. “I’m hopeful the Lord will reveal this to be the business Mr. McKay should purchase. Let’s do what we can to help Him, Rylan.”

Rylan wasn’t sure how one did such a thing, but he would try. He owed that much and more to Mr. Bancock.

The greetings were brief, but Rylan was certain Miss McKay appeared even lovelier today. She was wearing a shirtwaist that was a close match for her deep blue eyes, and Rylan was drawn by her passion for the business as she inquired about the decorating shop. When Mr. Bancock answered they would soon see the area, she smiled and stars dimpled her cheeks. How could he have missed that charming feature yesterday? What would it be like to be around someone so talented and lovely each day? Following behind Mr. McKay and Mr. Bancock, Rylan escorted Rose toward one of the warehouses, his imagination taking flight as he began to consider working for Miss McKay and her brother.

“This is the warehouse where dust and dirt are brushed from the ware before it is sent to be glazed. Mostly women and a few children work in this area.” Mr. Bancock waved his hand toward the door but didn’t step inside.

Rather than passing by, Rose stepped into the warehouse and looked around the vast area. “How can they breathe with all this dust flying about?” Rose wrinkled her nose and removed a handkerchief from her pocket. She lifted the linen square to her face and covered her nose and mouth.

Rylan grasped her arm and directed her toward the door. “Those who work in this warehouse are used to it. There’s no way to avoid dust when you’re cleaning the ware. If it becomes too bad, they wet down the floor, but this task cannot be overlooked. The ware has to be free of dirt and dust before it can be glazed.” He shot her a grin. “You’ll not find it terribly bothersome after you’ve been working at the pottery for a while.”

Rose arched her brows. “If we purchase this pottery, there will be some definite changes, especially regarding cleanliness.”

Remembering Mr. Bancock’s earlier appeal, Rylan nodded his head. “I’m sure that any changes you make will please the employees, Miss McKay. We all look forward to helping you in any way we can.”

“That’s good to hear, Mr. Campbell, though my brother has yet to make a final decision about the business.”

Mr. McKay turned around and waved to them. “Come on, Rose. You’re lagging behind.”

After hurrying forward, Mr. Bancock led them into the next section. “This is the glazing room. Glazing is what makes the ware impervious to liquids. The workers who glaze the ware are called dippers. Most of the dippers hire women and children to work for them. That way they don’t have to take time to remove the excess glaze from the pieces or transport the ware.” He nodded toward several of the children. “All of those are Harry Perdue’s young’uns, and that’s his wife over there.” He lowered his voice a notch. “The men with families have an advantage because they can put their wives and young’uns to work and don’t have to pay outsiders to help.”

Rylan saw the look of disapproval that crossed Rose’s face. Didn’t her brother have any children working in his brickyard? She could visit most any coal mine, pottery, brickyard, or other industry in the state, and she’d see children working. He wanted to ask her about her visit to Trent Brick Works and if she’d not seen children working alongside their fathers, but he kept his lips sealed. Any such talk might lead to trouble, and he didn’t want to be the cause of any problems for Mr. Bancock.

Rylan gestured toward the kilns. “This is where the ware is fired after it’s glazed. The second firing is known as the glost firing.” As they entered a small section of another brick building, several women sat side by side wielding rubber stamps. “Each piece is stamped with the Bancock pottery mark.”

Rose clasped a hand to her bodice. “These women stamp every piece of ware made in this pottery?” Rylan nodded, and she released a small gasp. “I can’t imagine performing such a monotonous task day after day.”

“I’m sure if your children needed food on the table, you’d be willing to stamp pottery, Miss McKay.” He took note of the pity that shone in her eyes before he hurried her toward her brother and Mr. Bancock. “You’ll be pleased to know that the decorating shop is straight ahead. You’ll be able to watch our artist at work.”

When Rose’s mood lightened, Rylan smiled, pleased his comment had gained the desired effect. While Mr. Bancock and Mr. McKay continued to talk, Rylan escorted Rose inside the decorating shop and urged her forward. The artist glanced up from his work, and Rylan nodded. “Mr. Wheeler, this is Miss Rose McKay. She’s been eager to see your work.”

“Not much to see around here anymore, Miss McKay, but you’re welcome to sit on one of the empty stools and stay as long as you like.” Mr. Wheeler’s apron bore splashes of various colors, and a hint of gold gilding decorated his bow tie. Rylan wondered if he realized the mishap.

Rose leaned forward and carefully examined Mr. Wheeler’s painting. “Your work is beautiful. If all of your artists possess as much talent, my brother will be fortunate to own this pottery.”

“Then your brother best look elsewhere. There are no other decorators in this shop, Miss McKay.”

Rose’s face crimped in a frown as she looked up one row of workbenches and down another. Unoccupied wooden stools sat empty at the work spaces. “Well, it certainly appears there are a great number of work spaces available for decorators. Where are they?”

Mr. Wheeler looked at Rylan from beneath hooded eyes and gave a quiet
harrumph
. “Those who could find work have gone to other potteries.” He nodded toward the doorway. “If you’ve any more questions about the lack of decorators, you best ask Mr. Bancock. He’s the one who gave ’em their walking papers.”

The words had barely been uttered when Mr. McKay and the owner walked inside. Deep furrows wrinkled Mr. Bancock’s forehead, and his bushy brows dropped low. He glowered at Mr. Wheeler. “Did I hear you speaking my name, Frank?”

The decorator picked up his brush and continued with his work. “Indeed, but you need not worry. I spoke nothing but the truth.”

Moments later, Rose peppered Mr. Bancock with myriad questions regarding the pottery’s lack of artists and decorators. She was firm in her final request: She wanted to review the ledgers regarding all specialty ware. Mr. Bancock agreed but was quick to add that a brief glance at the books would tell her he’d made the proper decision.

“Skilled decorators like Mr. Wheeler, the ones who can apply beautiful hand-painted designs and gilding, are the highest-paid employees in a pottery.” Mr. Bancock turned his attention away from Rose and back toward Ewan. “Unless you can sell those items as quickly as the cheaper ware, your profits will quickly disappear. If you don’t have to worry about turning a profit, you need not worry. You can hire as many decorators as you like and make hundreds of hand-painted vases that will sit in your warehouse.”

Before taking a brief tour of the packing house, Mr. Bancock mentioned the pottery’s advantageous location near the river as well as the railroad. He was quick to point out that products created in his pottery bore an excellent reputation, and he’d be willing to have the pottery works continue to bear his name. There was eagerness in Mr. Bancock’s tone as they returned to the office, and Mr. McKay and his sister sat down to begin their examination of the books.

When they had finished their review of the contracts and ledgers, Mr. McKay shook Mr. Bancock’s hand. “I won’t be making a decision today, Mr. Bancock. I’m returning to my home in Bartlett, where I’ll discuss our opportunities with my wife and her mother, who is investing in our new endeavor. But should we decide upon purchasing your pottery, we’ll have an offer to you within ten days.” Mr. McKay hesitated a moment. “Is there anything else you think I should know before we make our decision?”

Mr. Bancock’s eyes shone with both sorrow and weariness. “Only what I told you about Rylan. Keep him as your second in charge, and you’ll do fine. He’s talented and knows the business. I’d be beholden if you’d do that for me.”

Embarrassment seized Rylan. He appreciated Mr. Bancock’s endorsement, but being present during the plea for his job was uncomfortable. Besides, he didn’t want his employment to be a part of Mr. McKay’s decision.

He forced himself to look at Mr. McKay. “Please don’t make your decision based on keeping me, Mr. McKay. If you have another plan in mind, I can find work elsewhere.”

Ewan nodded and extended his hand. “Thank you, Rylan. I do not know what the future holds, but I count it a pleasure to have met you.”

After bidding the McKays farewell, Rylan picked up the time sheets and handed them to Mr. Bancock. “Do you think their answer will be favorable?”

“Who can say? One thing is certain: It’s going to be a very long ten days.”

Bartlett, West Virginia

T
hough it was difficult, Rose withheld her thoughts regarding the purchase of the pottery works on the train ride home. Ewan had said enough to let her know he was leaning toward the brickyard. And she truly could understand his desire to remain in a business he knew and understood. Still, she couldn’t help but think he would change his mind once he considered all of the ramifications.

As the train chugged into the Bartlett station, Ewan mentioned the celebratory party that lay ahead. Rose did her best to appear excited, but being the center of attention didn’t appeal, especially after her unfortunate experiences at the galas hosted at the design school. She wished her sister-in-law would have consulted her before planning the party and sending invitations.

Even if Laura had protested, Mrs. Woodfield would have insisted upon a celebration, and she wouldn’t want to offend Laura’s mother. The woman had been like a grandmother to the twins and her, even before Ewan and Laura married. She’d even insisted they address her as Grandmother Woodfield.

The entire family had moved into Woodfield Manor when Laura’s mother suffered a terrible bout of pleurisy last winter. Laura wanted to help with her mother’s care, and Mrs. Woodfield longed to have the family with her.

Rose leaned forward and looked out the window. Flanked by Mrs. Woodfield and Laura, Rose’s twin sisters, Ainslee and Adaira, stood on the platform just outside the depot door. “I was hoping they would have Tessa with them.”

Ewan peered out the window. “I’m sure you’ll have more than enough time to get reacquainted with her once we arrive home. According to her nanny, our sweet little daughter has become quite a little handful.”

“I would think that Beatrice could handle most any child. After caring for her seven sisters and brothers, it’s hard to believe one baby would cause her any problem.”

“I believe she’s discovered there’s quite a difference between being a nanny and looking after your sisters and brothers.”

Ewan and Laura had hired Beatrice Murphy, a distant relative, to act as nanny to the infant daughter they had adopted shortly after they wed. The child had been born out of wedlock to Kathleen Roark, Margaret Crothers’s sister. Unfortunately, the adoption had deepened an already simmering rift among family members, a disagreement that began when Uncle Hugh would not honor his word and make Ewan a partner in the brickyard.

Hugh had been far more forgiving toward Kathleen’s mistake, but Margaret still blamed her sister for ruining the Crotherses’ reputation in Bartlett. This was a belief Rose thought quite silly, since Kathleen’s lying-in and Tessa’s birth had received less attention from the wagging tongues than had Margaret’s unforgiving behavior toward her own sister.

A sure-footed conductor stepped down the aisle and announced the train had arrived at Bartlett station and would depart for Fairmont in fifteen minutes. Rose pinned her hat in place while Ewan gathered a newspaper and his hat.

The moment Rose stepped down from the train, the twins rushed forward and nearly knocked her to the platform. She chuckled and wrapped her arms around them. “What happened to those etiquette classes the two of you were taking from Miss Pfingstel? I doubt she’d approve of such a rowdy greeting.”

Ainslee giggled. “Miss Pfingstel isn’t anywhere near the train station, so we don’t need to worry about being scolded.”

Rose leaned back and looked down at her sisters. “Is that how it works? You behave and use proper manners only when your instructor is present?” She shook her head, but her attempt to give the girls a reproving frown fell short, and she giggled along with them.

After receiving a welcoming hug from both Laura and Mrs. Woodfield, they walked to the carriage while Ewan made arrangements to have the trunks delivered by wagon.

The moment they’d settled in the carriage, Adaira turned to Rose. “Wait until you hear all the plans Laura has made for your party. We can hardly wait for tomorrow night to arrive.” She inhaled a gulp of air. “Laura said both of us are allowed to remain downstairs for the dancing if we’d like.” She glanced at her twin. “Ainslee said she doesn’t want to, but I’m going to stay up and enjoy the midnight supper.”

Rose forced a feeble smile and glanced at her sister-in-law. “You really shouldn’t have gone to such trouble and expense. You know I’m not particularly fond of parties, especially when I’m guest of honor.”

Mrs. Woodfield patted Rose’s hand. “Now that you’ve completed your schooling, it’s time to locate the young man with whom you want to share the rest of your life. Laura and I have made certain that invitations went out to a number of eligible young men who have moved to the area since you went away to school.” There was a lilt to her voice that set off Rose’s internal alarm. Though she knew Mrs. Woodfield wasn’t planning any sort of prank, the remark created the same wary feelings Rose had experienced when the girls at school had plotted against her.

While the twins covered their mouths and tittered, Rose groaned inwardly. She didn’t want Mrs. Woodfield, or anyone else, seeking out beaus for her. Truth be told, a husband, or even a beau, was the last thing she wanted. She’d observed the reaction of the girls at school when a beau decided to move on to another girl. Most were unable to attend to their schoolwork for weeks on end. She didn’t want her future determined by finding the proper man. Instead, she wanted to help Ewan make a success of the Bancock Pottery Works.