Thunder and Roses (42 page)

So pragmatism was on her side. She thought about asking him if he had a personal opinion about her morals, or lack thereof, but decided that she would rather not know.
                    

The day after returning home she was busy evaluating what had been done in her absence. Rhys Williams and the servants had done a splendid job on the public rooms, which were now clean, bright, and no longer cluttered by too much ugly furniture. With the addition of the paper, paints, and fabrics she had ordered in London, the house would soon be as lovely as it deserved to be.

Yet even though her household tasks were going well, her anxiety rose as the day progressed. Her class meeting was that evening, and she was not sure what kind of reception she would receive. At dinner Nicholas noticed her mood and asked if something was wrong. When she explained, he remarked, “I’d volunteer to go with you, but I’m sure that would add to your problems. I don’t suppose you’d consider not going.”

She shook her head. “That would be cowardly. Worse, it might appear that I think I’m too good for my old friends now that I’m hobnobbing with the nobility.” Her face tightened. “If they ask me to leave, at least I’ll know where I stand.”

After dinner, Clare went upstairs and donned one of her own, pre-London dresses, which she could put on without help. The class members were her closest friends and the people most likely to believe in her. Yet in her heart, she felt that she deserved to be expelled from the meeting. Though she might, technically, still be a virgin, there was no question that she had been guilty of immoral misconduct. And worst of all, she wasn’t sorry. Confused and unhappy, but not truly sorry.

She drove her cart to the
Morrises’s
cottage, arriving just before the meeting was due to start. When she walked in, the room fell silent and eleven pairs of eyes stared at her. Marged broke the silence by coming over and giving her a hug. “Clare, it’s glad I am to see you. Can you come by the school soon? The children miss you.” She smiled. “They’re also desperately anxious to visit Lord Aberdare’s penguins.”

Clare was glad for her friend’s support, but that did not automatically mean the rest of the class would regard her with favor. She glanced around the room, offering a tentative smile. Several of the other members smiled back and young Hugh Lloyd winked. Her gaze went last to Edith Wickes, who was most likely to condemn her. Clare asked, “Am I still welcome here?”

Edith clucked her tongue. “You’ve shown very poor judgment, child. Half the valley is convinced that you’re a trollop.”

“I am not Lord Aberdare’s mistress,” Clare said, profoundly grateful that she could say that with truth.

“Well, I should hope not,” Edith said briskly. “But there are those who would rather think ill, such as Mrs. Elias.” She sniffed. “When the Lord comes to separate the sheep from the goats on Judgment Day, he won’t find much good wool on her. She said you wouldn’t deign to come to class now that you’re working at the big house, but I knew better.”

Wanting to sing with relief, Clare leaned over and embraced Edith. “Bless you for having faith in me. I can’t say that my conduct has been above reproach, but I haven’t done anything dreadful, either. How has the Sunday school teaching gone?”

In his capacity of class leader, Owen said with gentle reproof, “Save the talk for later, ladies—it’s time we began the meeting. Let us sing a song unto the Lord.”

Gratefully Clare relaxed into the familiar ritual of hymns, prayers, and discussion. When her turn came to talk, she said briefly that London was full of both excitement and temptations, and it was good to be home.

When the meeting was over, everyone stayed on for tea, cakes, and the chance to hear Clare talk of her trip. After she had regaled them with tales of the Tower, mechanical monsters, and her visit to the Foundry, which had been
John
Wesley’s home chapel, she rose regretfully. “Time I was leaving.”

As the group broke up, Owen said, “I’ll escort you back to Aberdare, Clare. I don’t want you going so far alone.”

She gave him a curious glance, for the valley had always been very safe, but agreed readily. As they rode back to Aberdare in her cart, he explained that his primary aim was to talk to Nicholas. Nothing important, mind, but perhaps his lordship would be interested.

Hearing the front door open, Nicholas came to the hall from the library, as if he’d been awaiting Clare’s return. Seeing Owen, he offered a wide smile and a hearty handshake. “This is a coincidence, for I have some questions I hope you can answer.”

“I have a few questions of my own,” Owen replied.

“Should I be present or absent?” Clare inquired.

“Present,” Nicholas answered as he ushered the others into the library. “Owen, you first.”

As Owen settled into one of the deep, leather-upholstered chairs, he said, “This may mean nothing, but a few days ago I saw something a bit odd.” He went on to describe the hut he and Huw had found on the Kenyon estate.

When he had finished, Nicholas said, “Interesting. Do you have any opinions about what, if anything, it might mean?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say the hut was being used to process high-grade metal ore,” Owen said slowly. “Possibly gold, but more likely silver.”

“Is that possible?” Nicholas said with surprise. “I know that occasionally gold and silver have been found in Wales, but never very much, and never in this area.”

“Sometimes very pure silver is found in clumps called wire silver,” Owen explained. “Once I saw a specimen that had been found near Ebbw Vale. Amazing stuff—so pure that it could be melted down and cast into ingots with no more than a very hot oven, like the one in the hut. I don’t think wire silver would be found in a coal bed, but remember that closed shaft where I said the coal seam ran out when the rock changed? It’s possible that the different rock might have silver in it.”

Nicholas’s brows knit together as he thought. “So perhaps Wilkins discovered silver and went privately to Madoc. If the metal is in small deposits and very pure, it could be brought out of the mine without the other men noticing. The Kenyon estate is a perfect spot to melt it down secretly, since Lord Michael isn’t in residence and Madoc is overseeing the property.”

“Why would Wilkins have gone to Madoc rather than keep a valuable find for himself?” Clare asked.

“Nye Wilkins isn’t clever enough to process or sell the silver without an experienced partner like Madoc,” Owen replied. “If our guesses are right, they could be making a nice bit of extra money between them.”

“This is exactly what we’ve been looking for!” Clare almost bounced from her chair in excitement. “Lord Michael’s lease covers coal only, not all mineral rights. If Madoc and Wilkins are taking silver or any other valuable ore from the mine, you have grounds to break the lease. Even if Lord Michael is ignorant of what his employees are doing, surely his company would be legally liable for taking anything that belongs to you.”

There was a suspended moment. Then Nicholas gave a whoop, leaped from his chair, and swept Clare up for a kiss. Barely in time, he remembered to keep it quick and light.

Turning to Owen, he said, “I saw Lord Michael Kenyon in London. He’s been with the army in the Peninsula, which is why he’s neglected his business. Since he flatly refused to make any changes, we’ve been trying to think of a way to break the lease. And now, by God, we’ve got it, t
hank
s to you and Huw.”

Owen smiled. “You were right the first time—it’s by God. It would be hard to believe that it was accident that Huw found his way to the hut, then took me there.”

Declining to digress into theology, Nicholas said, “So far this is all speculation—what we need is first-hand evidence. Could you take me into the pit again? If the two of us can testify that we’ve seen illegal mining, I can go to court and close down the existing operation, then start my own.”

Owen frowned. “Going down pit won’t be easy. After Madoc forbade you the premises, he gave orders to notify him instantly if you come onto the property. The
banksman
who manages the main shaft is a decent fellow, but he’d never go against Madoc.”

“What about going down at night? Once we’re underground, it won’t matter what time of day it is.”

“After your first visit, Madoc had a fence built around the
minehead
, and at night there’s a watchdog and a guard. We might be able to get past them, but it would be impossible to operate the whim gin without being noticed. We all think Madoc’s a bit mad to go to such efforts to keep you away.” Owen shrugged. “Of course, we’ve always thought him a bit mad.”

Clare said, “What you’ve described eliminates the main entrance, but what about the old

Bychan shaft? The one that’s used mostly for ventilation now.”

Owen’s eyes widened. “What a memory you have, lass. I’d almost forgotten the Bychan myself.”

“Would it be usable?” Nicholas asked.

“It should be,” Owen said thoughtfully. “It’s very narrow, but there’s a bucket that can raise or lower one man at a time. The bucket is operated by a man and a pony, so we’ll only need one other man to help. Not only that, the shaft goes down near the closed tunnel so you won’t have to travel far underground and risk being seen. It could be done.”

“Shall we plan on doing it four days from now? That will give me time to have my Swansea man of business look into the legal aspects,” Nicholas said. “Also, before we go into the mine I want to visit that hut so we can examine it more carefully. If silver is being melted, there should be traces around the oven or on the equipment. More evidence.”

Owen nodded. “Four days it is. That will also give me time to check that the rope and bucket are in good working order.” His expression turned grim. “The sooner something is done, the better.

In the last fortnight, the gas problems have been getting worse, and there have been three tunnel collapses because of poor timbering. No one has died since the day you went down, but I feel in my bones that something terrible is waiting to happen.”

“A week from now, the mine will be in my hands and I can make the needed improvements,” Nicholas said confidently. His Gypsy instinct told him that they had found the way to wrest control away from Lord Michael. And if Michael didn’t like that, it was too damned bad.

23

 
George Madoc had no time to prepare himself for the visit of his employer. Lord Michael Kenyon simply strode into the office without allowing the clerk to announce him.

Madoc would not have recognized the gaunt, hard-eyed newcomer as the fashionable young lord who had hired him four years earlier. Yet when the stranger spoke, the deep voice was unmistakable. “Sorry to walk in on you without warning, Madoc, but I decided to come to Penreith on impulse.”

Madoc scrambled to his feet and shook the offered hand. “Lord Michael, what a surprise,” he stammered. “I didn’t know you were in Britain.”

“I was sent back on convalescent leave a couple of months ago. With the war over, I’m selling my commission, so I’ll be taking a more active role in managing my business interests.” Not waiting to be asked, Lord Michael took a seat. “To begin with, I want to see the account books for the last four years.”

“Have you complaints about my management?” Madoc said stiffly, trying to sound indignant rather than worried.

“Not at all—you’ve produced very respectable profits. I merely want to familiarize myself with the operation again.” His lordship gave a faint, humorless smile. “After years in the army, I need to relearn the ways of civilian life.”

“Of course.” Madoc thought rapidly. “The earlier ledgers are at my house. I’ll collect them and send everything to you at once. Are you staying at the inn?”

“No, I’ll be at Bryn Manor. I’m on my way there now, but thought I’d stop and see you first.”

“You’ve come back to stay?”

Kenyon shrugged. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here. I’m in no hurry to leave— Wales is pleasant in the spring.”