The Artisan's Wife Page 3

  Ainslee inched forward on the uncomfortable seat. “I would have thought the opposite. What with the war, I’m surprised there aren’t far more widows and single women working and living in boardinghouses.”

  “You might think so, but we’ve got lots of men moving here to work at the asylum, and the ladies are eager to snag a husband.” His voice rumbled low in his chest. “You’re a fair-looking young woman, so it probably won’t take long for you to catch some fella’s eye.”

  Ainslee stiffened at the remark. His assumption that every single woman was looking for a husband galled her. Granted, most women wanted to marry and have children of their own—and truth be told, she did, as well, but she hadn’t come to Weston looking for a husband. A man was the last thing she needed in her life right now. Finding some local fellow to court her would only muddy the waters.

  “What kind of job do you hope to get at the tile works? I heard Mr. Ploughman sold the place. Hope you didn’t come down here for nothing. Did ya know the place had sold?”

  “Aye, that we did. Our family purchased the tile works, and my sister is going to be managing the business for our family.”

  The driver jerked around and nearly unseated himself. “You’re joshing! A lady taking charge of the tile works. Now, don’t that beat all! A woman half the age of those men is gonna be telling them how to do their jobs.” He shook his head. “I wish I could be a fly on the wall the first time you give one of them fellas orders.” He arched his bushy brows at Ainslee. “You think you’re gonna be able to deal with them?”

  “My sister is more than capable of managing the tile works.”

  “I meant no offense. Around these parts, you seldom see a woman in charge of a business.” He shot Ewan an apologetic look. “That’s all I was saying.”

  Ewan gave a slight nod. “No offense taken.” The wagon slowed and came to a halt, and he turned to Ainslee. “Here we are. I hope you’re not disappointed. It doesn’t look like much from the outside, but the rooms are large, and I think you’ll be comfortable.”

  The frame house had received a recent coat of white paint, and several flower boxes filled with fresh dirt hung from the banister that lined the wide front porch. Cushioned chairs were arranged in several conversation groups on the porch, where the ladies likely gathered to visit after the evening meal. Ainslee wasn’t certain she would partake on a regular basis, though. No need to become well acquainted when she didn’t plan to remain in Weston for long.

  Ewan grasped Ainslee’s elbow and escorted her up the five steps leading to the porch. The moment they topped the final step, a woman with white hair pulled into a severe bun stepped to the door. Her blue eyes twinkled a welcome. “Mr. McKay. I’m delighted you’ve arrived.” She narrowed her eyes and squinted at Ainslee. “You must be the twin sister I heard about from your brother.”

  Ewan stepped forward. “Aye, this is my sister, Ainslee.” He glanced back at his sister. “Ainslee, this is Mrs. Brighton.”

  The older woman smiled and gave a slight nod. “Pleased to meet you, Miss McKay.” Her gaze traveled toward the wagon and returned to the two of them. “Is the other Miss McKay arriving on a later train?”

  Ewan stepped to her side. “Why don’t we have the trunks delivered to Ainslee’s room, and then I’ll speak to you inside.”

  The woman’s forehead creased for a moment, but she soon regained her composure. “Of course. If the two of you will wait in the parlor, I’ll show the driver where to take Miss McKay’s trunks.”

  There’d barely been time to look around when Ewan sat down on one of the wooden chairs with a tapestry-covered seat and pinned her with an expectant look. “What do you think? Quite nice for a boardinghouse, wouldn’t you say?”

  “The parlor is well-appointed and comfortable. I don’t expect a boardinghouse to be as lovely as our home in Grafton. Besides, I’m not so old that I’ve forgotten our early years in Ireland. Back then, I would have thought I’d died and gone to heaven if given an opportunity to live in this house.”

  “Aye, ’tis true. I would have been pleased for such a home back then, too, but it’s been many years since you left the homeland. We’ve all become accustomed to a finer way of life.”

  What Ewan had said was true enough. For the most part, they’d lived well since coming to America. Partly because Ewan had married Laura and partly because he was a good man and worked hard to achieve his own success. And while Ainslee had enjoyed living in a lovely home and eating the fine food served each day, it had been Adaira who’d truly enjoyed the parties and beautiful gowns their new life had offered.

  “If Adaira approved, I’m sure that you’ll have no objection from me.”

  Ewan settled back in the chair. “After hearing what you told me earlier, I’m not sure whether she agreed to this boardinghouse because she thought it acceptable or because the two of you had already discussed moving into a house so she didn’t think she’d be here for long.”

  “What’s this about moving into a house?” Mrs. Brighton frowned at Ainslee.

  Neither of them had heard Mrs. Brighton approach, but the landlady’s comment was enough to reveal she’d overheard their discussion. Ainslee gave a slight shake of her head. “You need not concern yourself, Mrs. Brighton. I plan to stay in your boardinghouse as long as I live in Weston.”

  “You might not want to obligate yourself for that long. A young man might come into your future, and I don’t rent to married couples.” The gray-haired woman sat down on the divan beside Ainslee. “Now, when is it I’m to expect the other Miss McKay?”

  Mrs. Brighton’s smile wavered when Ewan explained Adaira’s recent marriage. “I didn’t see any reason to telegraph you since we were arriving so soon after receiving Adaira’s message. I doubted a few days would make much difference.” Ewan leaned forward and rested his arms across his thighs. “I understand this change of circumstances will cause you a loss of income. Do you have any suggestion on how we can resolve this matter?”

  The older woman whisked her hand as though she were brushing crumbs from a tablecloth. “There’s nothing to resolve. Sounds as though Miss McKay was in love. I can’t fault a young lady for following her heart, though I was looking forward to hearing more about her ideas for the tile works.” She smiled at Ainslee. “Your sister was such an affable young lady, and so full of exciting ideas.”

  Ainslee forced a smile. “Adaira and I are twins, but you’ll discover that our personalities are quite different. I’m more quiet and introspective. I’m afraid we won’t have the opportunity to implement her ideas since I don’t possess the same creative talents.”

  The landlady’s brow furrowed as she looked back and forth between Ainslee and Ewan. “From what your sister told me, you folks planned to expand the tile works as soon as she learned a bit more about the operation. So has that changed, as well? I told the men in my other boardinghouse to spread the word that you folks might be looking for some new employees come summer.”

  “You never can be sure what will transpire with a new business venture, Mrs. Brighton. Adaira shouldn’t have speculated about the future at a time when we hadn’t even taken possession of the business.” Ewan pushed to his feet. “I’m sure my sister is eager to see her room and get settled.”

  The landlady popped up from the divan and gestured to Ainslee. “Yes, of course. I didn’t mean to keep you with my idle chatter. Come along, my dear, and let’s see if the room suits you. We can always move things around a bit. I gave you a corner room that has two windows. One looks out on the garden. I think you’ll find the view pleasant. If you enjoy gardening, you’re welcome to plant some flowers or tend the ones I have planted. I never refuse help pulling weeds.” The woman continued to chatter as they climbed the stairs. When they arrived at the end of the hallway, she opened the door with a flourish. “Here we are.”

  Ainslee quickly surveyed the room and nodded her approval, partly because the landlady’s desire to please was evident and partly because the room
was cozy and neat—not like living at home, of course, but certainly nicer than she had expected. A handmade quilt of pale blue and cream squares adorned the bed, and curtains boasting the same pale blue hung at the windows. A large oak wardrobe and matching chest stood along one wall, and a small writing desk with a straight-backed wooden chair had been placed in front of the window overlooking the garden.

  Mrs. Brighton pointed toward the far corner. “If you’d like a comfortable chair, I can have one moved into that corner. Your sister thought it would make the room too crowded. She said she’d prefer to join the other ladies on the porch or in the parlor.”

  Though Ainslee would have liked an additional chair in the bedroom, she feared the request might cause her to be immediately labeled unsociable. “This will be fine for now. If I decide I would enjoy another chair in the future, I’m sure you’ll agree to accommodate me.”

  “Of course I will, but I don’t think that will occur. We have a lovely group of ladies, and I’m sure you’re going to find their knowledge of the town will make your adjustment much easier. They’re occasionally prone to a bit of gossip, but nothing meanspirited—mostly talk about their work. Now, the men in my other boardinghouse don’t have a whole lot to say. They sit out on the porch or in the parlor and play checkers or card games. They don’t appreciate the art of conversation much.

  “I’ll leave you to your unpacking. If you need anything, I’ll be preparing supper in the kitchen. I forgot to mention I serve meals at the same time every day. Breakfast at six thirty, supper at six o’clock. I don’t serve a noon meal, except on Sunday. The women who work at the asylum are furnished their noon meal there and I pack lunch pails for the others. Will you want me to pack your noonday meal, or will you eat at the café near the tile works?”

  Ainslee had no idea where she’d be eating. She hadn’t yet seen the tile works or the café, but eating alone in a café didn’t appeal. “I would be grateful if you would pack my dinner. Is that included in the monthly rental fee?”

  Ewan touched her shoulder. “No need to worry about the cost, Ainslee. I plan to pay Mrs. Brighton for six months before I depart.”

  “Six months?” Her voice caught, and she choked out the words. Regaining her composure, she shook her head and frowned at her brother. “I don’t think six months is necessary, Ewan. Two or three months should be more than sufficient.”

  Confusion shone in Mrs. Brighton’s eyes as she took in their conversation. “Perhaps you misunderstood my rules, Mr. McKay. The current month’s rent is all that’s due.”

  Ewan smiled and nodded before turning to Ainslee. “I’m going to walk back to the hotel and unpack. Why don’t you unpack or rest until suppertime? I’ll return and we can dine at the hotel.”

  “Supper at the hotel sounds wonderful.” She followed her brother and Mrs. Brighton to the door. Ewan’s voice drifted from the stairway. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but if she knew her brother, he was arranging to pay Mrs. Brighton for six months.

  She turned back and closed the bedroom door. She hoped the landlady would return a portion of the payment to Ewan, because Ainslee planned to see the tile works sold long before the expiration of six months.

  Chapter 4

  The following morning Ainslee donned a navy blue skirt topped with a navy and white pinstripe shirtwaist. She took one final look in the mirror before descending the stairs. It wouldn’t be wise to arrive late for breakfast on her first day at the boardinghouse. Several women had already taken their places at the table and looked up when Ainslee entered the dining room.

  “You must be Miss McKay.” A young woman with auburn hair tapped the chair beside her. “Come sit by me.” She shifted in her chair as Ainslee sat down. “We thought we would get to meet you last evening, but Mrs. Brighton said you were out to dinner with your brother. Will he be living here in Weston, too?”

  Before Ainslee could answer, the woman across the table leaned forward. “Is he married?”

  Another woman with light brown curls bobbed her head. “Yes, do tell us all about him. I’d venture he’s good-looking. Am I right?”

  Their interest in Ewan surprised her. She’d expected to be quizzed about her move to Weston and perhaps criticized for planning to manage a company that employed men, but she certainly hadn’t anticipated an inquiry regarding her brother’s marital status. Maybe her earlier assumptions about women and marriage had been incorrect, for it appeared these ladies were more interested in Ewan and his marital status than in why she’d taken up residence in the boardinghouse.

  She removed the linen napkin from atop her plate and spread it across her lap. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but my brother is happily married and will be in Weston only long enough to assist me as I begin my position at the tile works.”

  Though her smile faded, the young woman sitting beside Ainslee looked at the other ladies. “Well, we’re pleased to have you among us. I’m Sarah Wilson. I’ll let the rest of the ladies introduce themselves to you, Miss McKay.”

  “Please call me Ainslee.”

  Sarah smiled. “All right.” She looked at one of the other boarders. “Please introduce yourselves to Ainslee, and maybe tell her where you’re employed. I forgot to mention that I work at Bailey & Tunstill. Mr. Bailey began hiring women to help in the mercantile during the war when there was a shortage of men. Fortunately, he’s continued the practice. He says women are better suited to selling many of the products they carry in the store.”

  Ainslee took a sip of water. Perhaps she wouldn’t encounter as much discrimination as she’d anticipated. “It’s good to know that business owners in Weston realize there are women who must earn a living.”

  The girl with the light brown curls shook her head. “Speaking for myself, I hope I won’t have to work much longer. I’m supporting myself only until I can find a man who will marry me.” She sighed. “I’m Mae Fulton and I’m employed at the woolen mill.”

  One by one, the others gave their names and places of employment. Cecelia Mosely was the final resident to introduce herself. She appeared near Ainslee’s age and had a spatter of freckles across her nose and cheeks. “What kind of position is it that you’re going to have at the tile works, and why does your brother need to assist you? Can’t someone working there train you?”

  Mrs. Brighton bustled into the dining room with a platter of sausage patties in one hand and a heaping bowl of scrambled eggs in the other. The ladies immediately bowed their heads. Ainslee followed their lead while the older woman offered a prayer of thanks for their breakfast. The “Amen” had barely escaped her lips when she passed the bowl of eggs to Sarah. “Miss McKay’s family are the new owners of the tile works, and she’s going to be in charge of things—aren’t ya, Miss McKay?”

  Mouths gaping, all of the women turned and stared at her. Sarah nudged Ainslee’s arm and broke the silence. “Is that true?” She offered the eggs to Ainslee before taking the platter of sausages from Mrs. Brighton.

  Ainslee spooned a small portion of scrambled eggs onto her plate. “Yes, it’s true, but the idea of a woman managing a business is not unheard of in our family. My older sister has made many decisions regarding the family’s pottery in Grafton. And before my brother married, his wife helped him at the brickworks our relatives purchased from the Woodfield family. Laura had done her best to keep the business operating when her father went off to fight in the war. When Mr. Woodfield died in battle, Laura’s mother decided to sell the brickworks.”

  The lady who’d introduced herself as Dulcye Hamilton sucked in a breath. “Sounds as though you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, and then your brother added to it with a clever marriage.” She cast a scornful look across the table. “With all that family money, I’d think ya’d be living in a finer place than this.”

  “Excuse me?” Mrs. Brighton’s features tightened into a scowl. “Are you saying my boardinghouse isn’t good enough for someone of means?”

  Dulcye didn’t seem intim
idated by Mrs. Brighton’s scowl. “One look about the table and you can see there’s no one living here but working-class women.” She bobbed her head toward Ainslee. “Except for her, of course.”

  Mae clanked her fork onto her plate. “Just where do you think she should live, Dulcye? Besides a boardinghouse or the hotels, there are not many choices. And why is it any of your business?”

  “I didn’t say it was my business, but if I were rich like her, I’d buy a house so I could have me some privacy.” A spark of resentment flashed in Dulcye’s dark eyes when she looked at Ainslee.

  “That will be enough, ladies.” Mrs. Brighton’s brows dipped low on her forehead. “I told Miss McKay you ladies would provide her with friendship and assistance as she adjusted to living away from home. Instead, you’re revealing jealousy and a lack of respect. I’m disappointed.”

  “It was only Dulcye who was unkind, Mrs. Brighton. We’re pleased to have Miss . . . I mean, Ainslee, living here with us.” Mae’s lower lip unfurled into a childish pout.

  Meeting these women had proved to be even more difficult than Ainslee had anticipated. Adaira would have been comfortable fending off Dulcye’s attack while soothing Mae and assuring Mrs. Brighton that the boardinghouse met her every need and expectation. But Ainslee didn’t possess her sister’s ability to charm people—she’d always been more forthright.

  “No need to be concerned, Mrs. Brighton. I’m not offended by the remarks or questions.” She glanced toward the clock in the hallway. Ewan wouldn’t arrive for another ten minutes, which was time enough for her to reveal a bit about her life before arriving in America. Perhaps knowing she’d suffered her share of poverty would ease Dulcye’s jealousy and provide her a glimmer of hope.