The Brickmaker's Bride Page 5

  One by one the children completed their thaumatropes, most revealing a little about themselves in the pictures. Margaret Reed, a somewhat melancholy little girl, had drawn an empty grave on one side of her disc and a woman on the other. Laura’s breath caught as the girl spun the thaumatrope and the woman dropped in and out of the grave.

  “That’s my mother. She died when I was a baby. I just drew what I imagined she looked like since I don’t remember her. Is that okay, Miss Woodfield?” Margaret didn’t appear distraught. She’d seemingly accepted her lot in life, yet Laura couldn’t imagine what it must be like to grow up without loving parents. Margaret nudged Laura’s hand. “Did you hear me, Miss Woodfield? Is my picture all right?”

  “Yes, of course. You’re an excellent artist, Margaret.”

  Johnny Rutherford, a twelve-year-old, drew closer. “Why didn’t you draw your mother in heaven instead of in the ground, Margaret? Mrs. Tremble says if we believe in Jesus, our spirit goes to heaven when we die. Didn’t your mother go to heaven?”

  Margaret’s lip trembled. “He’s right. I should have drawn a picture of the sky with sunshine and fluffy clouds. I think my mama’s in heaven, don’t you, Miss Woodfield?”

  Laura couldn’t say for sure if Margaret’s mother had gone to heaven. She hadn’t known the woman or her beliefs. But one thing was certain: Laura wouldn’t cause the child more worry. “I think your mother would be pleased if you drew a picture of heaven rather than a grave, and there’s time to make changes to your thaumatrope, if you’d like.” Laura handed the girl her handkerchief. “There’s no reason for tears. With a few swishes of paint, you can easily adjust what you’ve already made.”

  After helping Margaret recreate her picture, Laura escorted the group into the adjacent classroom, where they presented their creations to the younger children. The older youngsters beamed as the little ones oohed and aahed over the spinning discs.

  Mrs. Tremble stepped to her side. “You have such a way with children, Laura. I do hope you’re giving my suggestion a great deal of thought and prayer. You have a gift, and I’d like to see it put to good use here at the orphanage—at least until you marry and have some little ones of your own.”

  Laura fixed her gaze on the young students. “I can’t deny I find true pleasure coming here to spend time with the children, but I don’t know what the future holds, Mrs. Tremble. Mother is selling the brickworks, and right now I couldn’t possibly accept the position. However, you can continue to count on me as one of your volunteers.” She turned and smiled at the older woman. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Once things are settled with the sale of your father’s business, you may change your mind. If so, the position will be available to you.”

  Laura snapped open the watch pinned to her bodice and startled. “Dear me, I didn’t realize it was so close to twelve o’clock. I promised Mother I’d be home in time for the noonday meal. I’d best gather my things and be on my way.”

  Kenneth rushed after her as she strode into the other room. “I’ll help you clean up, Miss Woodfield.”

  “Why, thank you, Kenneth.”

  “Could you leave some extra pieces of cardboard? I told some of the little kids I’d make a thaumatrope for them if you’d leave some supplies.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Kenneth. I’ll leave all of these things, and once you’ve finished, you can put any remaining items into the bag for me. I’ll pick it up the next time I come.” She ruffled the boy’s blond hair.

  “What you gonna bring next time?”

  She chuckled. “I’m not sure, but I’ll try to think of something you’ll enjoy.”

  As she headed toward home, Mrs. Tremble’s words resounded like a clanging bell: “. . . at least until you marry and have children of your own.”

  Catherine was clearing the dishes after the noonday meal when a knock sounded at the front door. “You expecting more company, Miss Laura?”

  “No, but you continue with your work. I’ll go to the door. Maybe there was some problem with the papers and Mr. Hawkins has returned. Or perhaps it’s Mr. McKay.” She quickened her step and pulled open the front door. “Mr. Crothers, Mr. McKay, ladies. Good afternoon.”

  “I know we shouldn’t have appeared unannounced, but I wanted a tour of the house,” one of the women told her. “Hugh said it might take a while for you to get your things packed up and moved, but I couldn’t wait any longer before seeing it.”

  Laura’s mouth gaped open as she stared at the group. Whatever was this woman talking about? “I assume you are Mrs. Crothers?” She turned her gaze to Kathleen. “And you are Mrs. McKay?”

  Kathleen shook her head. “Nay. I’m Mrs. Crothers’s sister, Kathleen. I’m not married.”

  “And neither is Ewan,” Mr. Crothers added. “Sorry we are to barge in on you, Miss Woodfield, but my wife insisted on touring the house. She wants to measure for carpets and drapes.”

  “I think there’s some misunderstanding, but please come in so we can discuss the house.” Laura’s head buzzed like a nest of irritated hornets. She directed the foursome into the parlor. “Please be seated and I’ll have Catherine bring tea. My mother is resting, but I’m sure she’ll be down before you depart. She’ll want to make your acquaintance.”

  Mrs. Crothers took a seat on the divan. “So you and your mother plan to remain in the area?”

  Laura frowned. “Of course. This is our home. Mother would never leave.”

  “Will you be moving into town, then?” Mrs. Crothers’s gaze drifted toward the parlor windows. “Any chance you’ll leave the draperies? I like them, and it would be easier if I didn’t have to replace them first thing.”

  “There’s been some misunderstanding, Mrs. Crothers.” Laura glanced at Mr. McKay. “This house was not included in the sale.”

  Mrs. Crothers jumped to her feet. “What’s that you’re saying?” She turned to her husband. “Did you hear what she’s telling us, Hugh? Pull out those papers and show her we’re the rightful owners of this house.”

  Laura shook her head. “There’s no need. I know the contents of the contract, Mrs. Crothers, and this house is not included as a part of the sale.”

  Mrs. Crothers snatched the papers from her husband’s hand and began tracing her finger down the first page. She turned to the second page and tapped her finger on the second paragraph. “There. See here? All those legal words describe the acreage and say a house is located on the property and is included in the sale.”

  “You’re correct, it is, but—”

  “You’re talking out both sides of your mouth, lass.” Mr. Crothers took the contract from his wife. “One minute you say the house is not part of the sale, and then you agree with me wife.”

  “Please let me finish, Mr. Crothers. There is a house included in the sale, but it isn’t this house. The legal description on the second page of the contract is for the house my father had constructed when we first moved here.”

  Mrs. Crothers’s face twisted with anger. “They’ve cheated us, Hugh.”

  “We didn’t cheat you, Mrs. Crothers.” Laura’s stomach clenched.

  How she wished that Winston would appear at the front door. Had he been in such a rush to complete the sale that he hadn’t gone over the fine details with Mr. Crothers? But then, why hadn’t Mr. Crothers read the contract for himself?

  “A large frame house and barn sit on that piece of land. They are both in good condition. The home isn’t fancy but is very suitable until you can build exactly what you want. We lived in that house until my father built this one.”

  “She can tell you whatever she wants, Hugh, but you need to talk to that lawyer. They’ll not get away with this. I wanted this house, and if she’s telling the truth, we don’t own it. You need to get your money back.”

  Ewan rose from his chair and stepped to his uncle’s side. “We need to remember what is most important, Uncle Hugh. Our search was for a brickyard, not a house. We own the brickyard, and the
re’s a suitable house on the land. I doubt you’re going to be able to break the contract. Mr. Hawkins gave you sufficient time to read the papers, and he asked you several times if you had any questions. He even asked if you wanted to return and further explore the property before you signed the papers.”

  Laura exhaled a relieved sigh, thankful that Winston had been honest and thorough in his dealings with Mr. Crothers.

  “Whose side are you on, Ewan? You take up her cause at every turn.” Mrs. Crothers’s face contorted with rage. “First you convince your uncle Hugh to pay full price for this place, and now you say that their contract was honest.” She pointed the tip of her parasol at Laura. “Did that one pay your passage to America? Is she going to be your partner at the brickworks? You’d best be remembering who butters your bread.”

  “I am only stating the truth, Aunt Maggie. You can go to the lawyer, but it won’t change a thing. And neither will your anger. This isn’t the fault of Miss Woodfield or her mother. And, yes, I did encourage Uncle Hugh to pay full price and to settle here, but you said you loved this valley and wanted to make it your home, as well.”

  “Aye, that’s true enough, but that’s when I thought I’d be living in this fine house.” Maggie thumped her parasol on the Wilton carpet.

  “Stop with your thumping and shouting, Margaret. Ewan’s right. The lawyer asked if I wanted to ride around the property so I could see exactly where the boundaries were located. I should have taken the time. Then I would have known this land wasn’t included. But I didn’t, and that cannot be changed.” He narrowed his eyes and turned toward Laura. “But I can tell ya that I would not have paid full price had I known I was not getting this house. There are not many times I’ve gambled and lost, but this is one of them. Your lawyer has taught me a lesson, miss.”

  Laura squared her shoulders and met Mr. Crothers’s steely gaze. “The purchase of this brickyard and the surrounding property was not a gamble, Mr. Crothers. If you operate the brickyard with the same diligence as did my father, you’ll earn an excellent profit.”

  “Laura, I didn’t know we had guests! You should have sent Catherine to fetch me.” Mrs. Woodfield continued down the stairs and entered the parlor. She looked at her daughter and arched her brows. “You haven’t served tea? What’s come over you? Our guests will think we have no manners.” Her mother smiled at the two women seated on the divan. “I am Frances Woodfield. We’re pleased that we will have neighbors living close by. When you build your new home, I hope you’ll choose a location that is within walking distance.”

  Mrs. Crothers stood and gestured for her sister to do the same. “I doubt we’ll be visiting much. I do not think we’re cut from the same cloth.”

  Mrs. Woodfield frowned. “I don’t judge others by their social standing, Mrs. Crothers. I think friendships should be based upon trust and respect.”

  Margaret’s lips curled in a wry smile. “So do I, but I have found nothing to trust or respect under this roof.” That said, Margaret marched out of the room, with Kathleen following close on her heels.

  “I apologize. Me wife has a bit of a sharp tongue.” Hugh grasped Ewan by the arm. “Come along. We’ve some tall talking to do if we’re going to smooth Maggie’s ruffled feathers.” The older man glanced over his shoulder as they departed. “It may take a while, but once she gets used to the idea that she doesn’t own this place, Maggie will come ’round. When she does, she’ll pay you more visits than you want.”

  Laura sighed and dropped to the overstuffed chair, uncertain she would ever want Maggie Crothers to “come ’round.”

  Chapter 5

  Ewan followed his uncle and the women to the carriage, thankful he’d ridden his horse. Maggie was insisting upon a visit to Winston Hawkins, a meeting Ewan didn’t care to attend. Such a discussion would be a waste of time, but he realized Aunt Margaret wouldn’t be satisfied until she heard those words from the lawyer.

  He grasped his uncle’s elbow. “I think it might be good for me to remain behind. I can go and see the house. That way, if it needs some repairs, we can make plans to have them completed as soon as possible. It might help if I can tell the ladies the house is in good order.”

  His uncle patted the gray gelding. “Aye, but you come to me after you see the place. If it’s in bad shape, I don’t want Maggie hearing it. I can extend our stay at the hotel if it needs fixing. I’ll tell Maggie and Kathleen that you’re riding down to the brickyard to look things over before you return.”

  “I’ll head there right now. I wouldn’t want you telling a lie on my account.”

  Hugh chuckled. “Always worried about telling a lie. Never seen the like. Take a look at the brickyard and then come back here and see if one of the ladies will give you a key to the house.” His uncle lowered his head. “While you’re riding down to the brickyard, you might ask the Almighty if He could strike your aunt dumb for a while. I could use some peace and quiet.”

  “I’ll say a prayer that she’ll be quiet on the ride back to town, Uncle Hugh, but I’m not sure it will help.”

  Hugh hiked a shoulder. “Aye, right ya are, my boy. Even the Almighty would have a time of it trying to silence Margaret.” He patted Ewan on the back. “Go on with ya. We’ll talk later.”

  Ewan shoved his boot into the stirrup and mounted his horse. As he headed off toward the brickyard, he could hear his aunt scolding Uncle Hugh. Little wonder the man had requested prayer. Urging the horse forward, Ewan settled into the saddle, glad for this opportunity to spend a bit of time on his own at the brickyard. Though he and his uncle had carefully examined the machinery and clay deposits during their earlier visit, this time alone would give him an opportunity to follow the workings from the clay deposits to the kiln. Though most brickyards were set up in a similar fashion, the layout could vary depending on the terrain.

  He nudged the horse’s flanks with his heels and urged him up a slope toward the clay deposits. What a beautiful place this was. Tree branches heavy with leaves of red and gold emblazoned the hillside while birds filled the air with their songs.

  Ewan inhaled the crisp, fresh air as he dismounted. “Thank you, Lord. I am grateful you led us to this place.” Leaning down, he reached his hand into the soil. “It is good to know I will soon be back to work.”

  He stood and surveyed the area. Mr. Woodfield had chosen a perfect site. The clay pits were to the rear of the yard. He’d been careful to leave plenty of space for the huge mounds of clay that needed to weather each winter. Ewan would need to find diggers as soon as possible. Men who knew how to handle a shovel. He wanted to dig before the first freeze so the clay would have exposure to as many freeze-and-thaw cycles as possible. Bricks made of thoroughly weathered clay made stronger bricks and were less liable to warp in the kiln. Ewan wanted to produce sound bricks.

  Come spring, he wanted the clay weathered and ready for the pug mills. He walked off in the distance to the two horse-driven mills. Here, the clay would be ground and mixed with liquid to form a malleable mixture before delivery to the VerValen machine, where it would be formed into bricks. Then they would be set to drying in the shed before they could be fired.

  They would need more drying sheds as they increased production, but there was still enough time to consider those plans. Late afternoon shadows draped the yard, and Ewan turned toward the hillside. If he didn’t get back to Woodfield Manor soon, the ladies would be preparing for supper.

  Riding toward the house a short time later, he spied Miss Woodfield on the porch. He removed his hat and waved in her direction. She stood and drew near the railing.

  “We meet again, Miss Woodfield. I hope you do not mind, but I told my uncle I would take a look at the house he purchased. Is there any chance I could bother you for the key and directions to the place?”

  Laura’s lips curved in a generous smile. “Certainly. I’ll go with you, if you’d like.”

  “I cannot think of a thing that would please me more, Miss Woodfield. Will you be riding a hor
se?”

  “It’s not far. If you don’t mind walking, I’ll get the key and my bonnet.”

  “A walk sounds good.” Ewan swung down from the horse and tied the gelding to the post. “You behave yourself while I’m gone.”

  “Do you often talk to your horse, Mr. McKay?” Laura asked, coming from the house.

  Ewan laughed. “Indeed. He listens and does not give any unwanted opinions.”

  Laura tied the strings of her bonnet. “Then I must remember to listen and give my opinion only when requested.”

  “Your ideas would always be treasured by me, Miss Woodfield.”

  “Is that a bit of the Irish blarney I’ve heard about, Mr. McKay?”

  “Not at all. I’m speaking the truth. I value your opinion.” He smiled and then gestured toward the dirt pathway. “The first time I came along this path, I wondered why your father had not lined it with bricks. My poor horse nearly lost a shoe in the thick mud.”

  “That’s a good question, Mr. McKay, but I don’t have the answer. Perhaps he didn’t think it important, since the main road isn’t much better. I’m afraid the trail leading to the house where you’ll be living needs a bit of work, as well.”

  They’d walked about a half a mile when Laura pointed to a narrow trail leading off to the right. “This leads to the house. Mother is having the groomsman bring her over so she can go through it with us.” She glanced up at him. “Mother wasn’t happy I’d consented to an unescorted walk, but since I’d already told you I would go, she didn’t fuss overmuch.”

  Ewan stopped short. “She could have walked with us. Did you not invite her?”

  “She can’t walk long distances. Her legs give out. And she didn’t want to keep us waiting while Zeke hitched the carriage for her. No doubt she’ll rush Zeke and be here soon.”

  “Is that the house up there in the distance?” Ewan gestured toward a hillock.