The Artisan's Wife Page 5

  “There’s no need to take you to see the other kilns. They’re all the same. Why don’t we go back to the office so we can go over some of the records?” She withdrew a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and pressed it to her forehead.

  Even though Ainslee would have preferred walking through the entire work area, she didn’t pursue the matter. Such a request would have been insensitive, given Mrs. Ploughman’s discomfort around the heat and Mr. Ploughman’s difficulties walking. There would be time enough to see the location of the remaining kilns in the coming days. The two men tarried outside while the ladies headed for the office.

  Ainslee sat down at the oversized desk while Mrs. Ploughman removed folders and ledgers from a cabinet. “My sister mentioned Mr. Ploughman had given some thought to creating designs for some of the tiles. I know Adaira wanted to pursue that idea, as well. How far along have you progressed with that concept?”

  Dropping the armful of books and papers onto the desk, Mrs. Ploughman exhaled a whoosh of air and inhaled deeply. “Dear me, I don’t think he’s done anything more than sketch a few designs. If he’s finished anything, he hasn’t told me. ’Course, that doesn’t mean you can’t try something new once you’re in charge. I know your sister had some big ideas.” She plopped down in the chair beside Ainslee. “Your brother never did say what changed her plans.”

  “She decided marriage was more important. Her husband couldn’t move to Weston—he has a position in his uncle’s business in Pittsburgh.” Ainslee leaned toward a pile of papers and moved them closer. She didn’t want to use valuable time discussing Adaira’s marriage.

  The older woman’s eyebrows arched high on her forehead. “Husband? You mean she’s married already? Strange that she didn’t mention any wedding plans while she was here. In fact, she seemed exceptionally excited about the prospect of . . .”

  “Why don’t we begin going over the books? I want to be certain I have a clear understanding of the methods you’ve used before I take charge.”

  Three weeks had passed since their arrival in Weston. Ewan was missed at the pottery in Grafton and would likely depart for home in the near future. There was no doubt he missed his family. And he belonged with them—not here in Weston. For the past week, he had insisted Ainslee make all decisions at the tile works, and he’d repeatedly praised her abilities. She had reveled in his adulation and hoped to prove herself worthy of his praise. She’d learned a great deal and hoped to create a thriving tile works that would interest a host of buyers.

  Ewan sat across from her in the hotel dining room, where much to Mrs. Brighton’s dismay, Ainslee had continued to join her brother each evening for supper. After placing their order, Ewan took a sip of water. “I’ve had a letter from Laura. She’s asked that I return home as soon as possible.”

  Ainslee’s stomach tightened. “Is something wrong?”

  He leaned back and grinned. “Nothing except the fact she wants her husband at home with her. Oh, and she mentioned receiving a letter from one of her friends in Bartlett. Seems Aunt Margaret has been stirring up a bit of trouble among some of the ladies by spreading unkind gossip.”

  Ainslee blew out a sigh. “Nothing Aunt Margaret does would surprise me after all the havoc she created among the family. No doubt one of the ladies said something Aunt Margaret disliked and our meanspirited aunt is set upon ruination of the poor lady.”

  The mere mention of Margaret Crothers sent chills racing up Ainslee’s spine. Their Uncle Hugh’s wife had made life miserable for every family member who’d left Ireland to begin a new life in America. Although Uncle Hugh had changed his harsh and tyrannical ways in his final year of life, Aunt Margaret had never turned loose of her scheming ways. She was a deceitful woman who took pleasure in causing trouble.

  “I’m sorry to hear Aunt Margaret is up to her old tricks, but I’m pleased Laura and Tessa are well. I feared you might tell me one of them was ill or something had happened to Tessa. To be honest, I’m surprised Laura hasn’t insisted upon your return before now.”

  Throughout their marriage, Ewan and Laura had revealed a devotion to each other that Ainslee hoped to one day experience. Through all their past difficulties, the couple had remained steadfast and true, always encouraging and supporting one another. She had no doubt these weeks apart had been difficult for Ewan and Laura. Although Ewan could help Ainslee broaden her skills managing the tile works, she wouldn’t attempt to detain him.

  “Laura’s willingness and patience hasn’t surprised me—she wants what’s best for all of the family—but it’s time for me to go home.” Ewan’s lips curved in a broad smile. “You’ve shown me that you can oversee the tile works without my help. The men have accepted you, and I don’t think you’ll have any problems. You have all the necessary information to place a sound bid for future business. I’m not expectin’ you to need his help, but Mr. Ploughman is available should you need him. Of course, you can always write or telegraph me if you have questions, but I have every confidence in you.”

  His assessment strengthened Ainslee’s belief that she could accomplish her goal in short order, but she’d need to find some way to overcome the loneliness. Once Ewan was gone, she would miss her family more fully, especially Adaira. The ladies at the boardinghouse seemed nice enough, but she’d spent little time with them since her arrival. Perhaps friendship with a few of them as well as long hours at the tile works would help fill the void until she returned home.

  She cut a bite of lamb chop. “I am going to explore whether we should move forward with those decorative tiles Mr. Ploughman was going to produce. It might lead the company in a good financial direction that would help us sell the business.” She popped the bite of lamb chop into her mouth. “Mmm, this is delicious.”

  “I didn’t realize you were interested in exploring any possibilities beyond a possible expansion of the flooring tiles.”

  Her thoughts raced. “It’s true I hadn’t planned to try anything new, but I’ve been giving the idea a little more consideration the past few days. Offering something unique could increase profits and make the business more appealing.”

  “That may be true, but before you venture into the possibility of something new, you might want to speak with Mr. Ploughman. See if he’s already assessed the demand for such tiles—and the cost to produce them.” He removed the linen napkin from his lap and placed it on the table. “I’m happy to have you try new ideas, but I don’t think we should acquire further debt if we’re going to sell.”

  She nodded. “I’ll keep you informed if I think there’s value to the idea.”

  Once they’d completed their meal, Ewan removed the napkin from his lap. “If you’ve finished, why don’t we sit in the lobby, where it’s more comfortable? There’s something else we need to discuss.”

  Ainslee’s mind raced as they navigated between several brocade-covered chairs and a leather sofa. She hadn’t missed the worried look in Ewan’s eyes, yet she couldn’t think of anything that might have created such distress. Ewan nodded toward one of the sofas at the far end of the room.

  She watched him closely as she sat down. “Is there something about the business we haven’t yet gone over?”

  He sat down beside her. “No, this is personal, about the family.”

  “Please tell me everyone is in good health.”

  Ewan hunched forward and pressed his fingers to his temples. Was he worried she would refuse to remain in Weston if he told her there were problems at home? No matter the circumstances in Grafton, she would do what was expected of her, but she needed to know the truth. Even if she couldn’t be there to help, she could pray for them.

  She lightly grasped his shoulder, longing to see his eyes. “You can tell me, Ewan. I need to know what’s troubling you.”

  Ewan straightened and reached into his jacket pocket. “I pray this will not deepen your pain, but I’m going to be straightforward. The family received a letter from Adaira, and Laura included it when she wrote to me. You may r
ead it, but Adaira also included this private letter for you.” He withdrew the envelope from his pocket and placed it in her hand.

  Ainslee’s fingers trembled as she opened the letter and set eyes on her sister’s familiar script.

  Dearest Ainslee,

  I’m certain you are angry with me, and I do not blame you, but I hope that in time you will understand why I chose to elope with Chester. First let me say that although I haven’t known him for long, I love him very much. I can barely breathe when I think of being separated from him. You have not yet been in love, but one day you will understand the depth of emotion that comes with such love.

  On the day I ran off with Chester, he arrived in Weston to tell me that his uncle was sending him to Paris. His uncle wants their store to become a more exclusive shopping experience for ladies, and he believes Paris will offer the most exciting fashions, as well as the latest offerings in home décor. His uncle insisted that it would take at least a year to become acquainted with and place orders for these new collections.

  I know you’re probably thinking I should have remained in West Virginia and come to Weston during his absence, but I simply couldn’t for two reasons: The thought of being away from each other for so long was more than either of us could bear. Secondly, I would have missed the opportunity to visit Paris, to see the beauty of the city and all of the art it has to offer. Chester has even promised we will attend the Paris Opera while we are there.

  You may not immediately understand or think my reasons sensible, but I pray that one day you will accept and support my decision. If I had any doubt you could manage the business on your own, I would never have left you.

  The only person who doubts your ability is you. While I will miss you desperately, I know that without me, you will become much stronger. When I return from abroad, I know you will be the manager of a prosperous business. Perhaps you will even discover love during my absence.

  Please don’t remain angry with me. I love you with all my heart. Above all, I beg your understanding. I will send my address in Paris once we are settled.

  Your loving sister,

  Adaira

  “Paris!” Ainslee crumpled the letter and dropped it on the floor. “Her letter says I’ll become a stronger woman without her by my side. She’s convinced herself that she has done me some great favor. She likely expects me to write and thank her for leaving me in this situation.”

  Ewan’s brows drew together. “I think you may be exaggerating, Ainslee.”

  She picked up the letter and pressed it flat before thrusting it at him. “See for yourself.”

  Once he’d read the letter, he met her gaze. “I can see that she’s made an attempt to justify her actions a wee bit.”

  “A wee bit?”

  Ainslee had longed to hear from her sister, but the words she had hoped to read hadn’t been included in Adaira’s letter. Rather than admitting wrongdoing on her part, she’d asked Ainslee to offer understanding. To Ainslee, the letter seemed no more than a defense of bad behavior. A letter written to ease her guilty conscience. A letter placing the burden of reconciliation at Ainslee’s feet.

  Ewan sighed. “I agree that the reasons your sister set forth don’t change the fact that what she did was selfish and reckless. Love can sometimes cause rash behavior. Adaira’s desire to marry Chester, along with her passion for art and the opportunity to visit Paris, created a situation that required an immediate decision. She likely weighed her move to Weston against marriage and Paris. I don’t agree with her decision, but if you don’t forgive her, you will become a bitter young woman.” He lifted her chin with his index finger. “You have a sweet and gentle spirit, Ainslee. You must forgive. Don’t let anger fester and change you.”

  She turned away and stared out the lace-curtained hotel windows.

  Forgive. Easier said than done.

  Chapter 6

  Levi Judson brushed a shock of wavy brown hair from his forehead and strode toward the white boardinghouse he’d been advised was the best in town. His arrival in Weston the previous evening hadn’t permitted enough time to seek a boardinghouse, so he’d rented a room at the Bailey House Hotel. The room had been far more stylish—and expensive—than he’d expected. While he’d enjoyed a single night’s stay at the establishment, he was a simple man who had no desire to learn the proper rules of etiquette or live among the wealthy. Besides, he’d come to Weston for something far more important than a fancy hotel room.

  The hotel clerk who’d recommended Mrs. Brighton’s boardinghouse for men had added that the rooms were usually full, so he offered a silent prayer when he knocked. Moments later, a plump lady holding a dusting rag pulled open the heavy walnut door.

  Her gaze settled on the three cases sitting beside his left leg. “From the look of things, you’re needing a room.”

  “Yes, ma’am. My name is Levi Judson, and your establishment was recommended to me as the best in town.”

  “That’s nice to hear, but there’s a couple things I need to tell ya. Number one, I’m the housekeeper, not the owner, and number two, this boardinghouse is for ladies only. Mrs. Brighton’s the owner for both boardinghouses.” She stepped onto the wide front porch and flapped her dusting rag toward the adjacent white house. “That is the men’s boardinghouse. You’ll find Mrs. Brighton over there, but I don’t think we’ve got any empty rooms.”

  With a snap of her wrist, she gave the rag a quick shake. Dust particles shimmered in the sunlight and floated onto the flower bed alongside the porch. “Won’t hurt to stop and ask. I’m never sure when the men move in and out.”

  Levi tucked his smaller bag beneath his arm before picking up his other two cases. “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. . . .” She hadn’t told him her name.

  “Hanson. And it’s Miss, not Mrs.”

  The woman’s clipped reply and stern look sent Levi scurrying for the front steps. He’d obviously touched on a sore point with the housekeeper. “Thank you for your help, Miss Hanson.”

  For a fleeting moment he considered cutting across the yard to the men’s boardinghouse but decided the shortcut might further annoy Miss Hanson. A negative word from the woman could hurt his chances of renting a room from Mrs. Brighton.

  The sun beat down warmly on the early-spring morning, and he squinted his eyes as he climbed the steps to the men’s boardinghouse. Instead of flower boxes, spittoons had been strategically placed near the chairs on the front porch. He settled his cases on the porch, but before he could knock, a wiry woman with deep-set eyes opened the door.

  “Good morning. I’m Mrs. Brighton. May I be of assistance?”

  He glanced toward the ladies’ boardinghouse. Had Miss Hanson somehow signaled Mrs. Brighton to expect a caller?

  He pushed the thought aside and smiled at the woman. “I’m Levi Judson. I arrived in Weston yesterday and am in need of a room. The hotel clerk said you have the best boardinghouses in town.” He pointed his thumb to the house next door. “I made the mistake of stopping at the ladies’ boardinghouse, and Miss Hanson said she didn’t think there were any rooms open in the men’s. I’m hoping she’s wrong.”

  Mrs. Brighton brushed her hands down the skirt of her apron before opening the door a little wider. “Come in, Mr. Judson. One of the men left this morning, so I do have a room. It’s the smallest in the house, but it’s situated at the end of the hallway, so there’s less noise. You don’t hear the boarders coming and going as much, so what you lose in size, you gain in peacefulness. If quiet is important to you and you don’t mind being a bit cramped, I can show you the room.”

  Levi exhaled a sigh of relief. The Lord had answered his prayer. “Size won’t be a problem for me, ma’am.”

  She waved him into the foyer. “Maybe you should take a look before you make a final decision. You can leave your cases at the foot of the stairs. No sense carrying them up until you’re sure you want the room.” After ascending one of the steps, she glanced over her shoulder. “And until I’m certain you’ll b
e an acceptable boarder.”

  He didn’t know what made a person an acceptable boarder, but he hoped he’d meet her requirements. A carpet runner in a floral pattern was centered on the stairs and through the upper hallway. Levi grinned as he followed behind Mrs. Brighton in his heavy work shoes. The flowery design was sure an odd choice for a men’s boardinghouse, and so were the bucolic pictures in fancy frames that lined the walls.

  Removing a metal ring of keys from her pocket, Mrs. Brighton opened the last door on the right side of the hall. She pushed open the door and stepped inside before waving him forward. “As I told you, it’s not large. This was once my family home, and this room was the nursery and later a playroom used by my sister and me.”

  That explained the frilly décor in the house, but at least there wasn’t a rocking chair and cradle in the bedroom. He was pleased to see a patchwork quilt on the bed and plain curtains at the windows. A chest was wedged along one side of the bed and a washstand on the other.

  Mrs. Brighton’s lips curved in an apologetic smile. “If you have need of a wardrobe for hanging clothes, you’ll have to share with Mr. Wilson, who’s in the room next door, or you can hang them on the hooks along the wall. This is the best I can offer for now, but if one of the other men move out, you would have first choice to change rooms.”

  “The room is fine. I’ll take it.” He smiled good-naturedly. “If you decide I’d be an acceptable boarder, that is.”

  “Come downstairs. I have a few questions, but I won’t take much of your time.” She led the way into the parlor. He was pleased to see that the room was furnished with substantial armchairs and an oversized couch covered in dark leather. Several large bookcases flanked the fireplace and though the window coverings were patterned, the deep blue color suited the room. Had the furnishings once been used in her father’s library? Before Levi could consider the matter for long, Mrs. Brighton bid him to sit down while she retrieved a paper from a desk across the room.