The Brickmaker's Bride (4 page)

And that wasn’t the worst of it. When Uncle Hugh had been in his cups during their voyage, he’d confided why he’d been in such a rush to leave Coleraine, and now he spoke of it again. “It was a piece of luck that came my way that day, and I took full advantage. That fellow could afford to lose. He didn’t fool me none. He was one of them wealthy Montclairs. He thought he knew how to play a game of cards, but he’d never come up against the likes of me. I know more tricks than any of those fancy fellows. I liked the idea of sitting opposite him—just the two of us—and taking his money every hand. None of the locals had enough money to wager against him.”

“You did.” Ewan lifted his coffee cup and downed the remaining cold liquid.

“Aye, but that’s different. I’d been saving from all my gaming over the past year so I’d be ready when an opportunity came along. And thanks be to me, I say. We’d still be sitting in Coleraine if I hadn’t been saving my winnings.”

“And thanks be to the Lord that Lyall Montclair was a poor shot or you’d be under the ground.”

“He couldn’t aim that pistol any better than he could play cards.” Hugh guffawed. “Glad I am that he didn’t have my name and we were able to set sail two days later. He’s probably still lookin’ for me.”

Ewan shook his head. “What you did was wrong, Uncle Hugh.”

“What’s the matter with you, boy? With Montclair’s money and power, the law would have taken his side against me, and you know that to be true.” He slapped his palm on the table. “All of that is behind us now, and I don’t want you talking about it any more. There’s no good that can come of telling Margaret or anyone else. Understand?”

Lying, keeping secrets, and finding excuses for his unscrupulous behavior had become a way of life for Uncle Hugh. He enjoyed this game of cat and mouse, and Ewan doubted the man would ever change. He also doubted Lyall Montclair had been dealt even one fair hand of cards.

“Well?” His uncle nudged him. “You gonna answer or keep staring at me like a dead mackerel?”

“I would never intentionally cause trouble for anyone, but I told you back then and I’m telling you now, I won’t lie or cheat to keep your secrets. I never wanted to hear any of it.”

“I know ya didn’t.” His uncle wiped his napkin across his mouth. “If I hadn’t had a wee bit too much to drink, I would have kept me trap shut. Would have been better for the both of us.”

“Aye, but you didn’t.” Ewan leaned back in his chair. Maybe this was the right time to press his uncle to sign the papers. “What about the brickyard? Aunt Margaret made it clear she’s set on staying here, and I don’t think we’ll find a better place. I think you should pay what they’re asking and sign the papers as soon as possible. We need to hire men and begin digging clay before winter sets in or we won’t be able to make bricks come spring. We’ll lose a year of production if we wait much
longer. You and I both know it, and so does that lawyer. He’s not going to budge.”

“If I pay full price and this doesn’t work, it’s gonna be on you. If this turns out bad, there may not be a racetrack or gaming table to make up my losses. You a good enough brick man to earn my money back for me?”

“If you listen to me, you’ll see more profit than you’re expecting. If not, I can’t promise what will happen.”

Hugh’s brow furrowed and he narrowed his eyes. “Can’t say as I like giving you so much control.”

“It’s not my money at stake, but my future depends upon making the yard a success. I’m giving you my word that I’ll do everything I can to make the company the best brickyard in all of the state.” Ewan hiked a shoulder. “You have my word. There’s nothing more I can offer.”

“Make it the best brickyard in all the country, not just this state.” Hugh grinned and extended his hand. “We’ll go and see the lawyer in the morning and sign the papers.”

Ewan shook his uncle’s hand, pleased to have the matter settled. No doubt, Aunt Margaret and Aunt Kathleen would be knocking on the front door of Woodfield Manor tomorrow afternoon. He hoped Margaret would extend the widow and her daughter every courtesy. Even with the help of servants, moving all of their belongings from the mansion would take time.

And Aunt Margaret wasn’t known for her patience.

L
aura greeted her mother as she entered the dining room. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” She touched her fingers to the soft brown curls that brushed the neckline of her lavender poplin walking dress. “My hair wouldn’t cooperate this morning. I don’t know who became more exasperated, me or Sally.”

Her mother chuckled. “I would imagine Sally, since she was the one trying to tame those curls of yours. Unfortunately, it appears your chignon is not going to hold tight, but let’s eat breakfast. Sally can attend to your hair later.”

Catherine bustled into the dining room. “How would you like your eggs, Miss Laura?”

“No eggs this morning. I’m not particularly hungry, but I’ll have one of your biscuits with strawberry preserves.”

The maid tsked and shook her head. “That’s not a fit breakfast, Miss Laura.” Catherine looked at Mrs. Woodfield for affirmation.

“Catherine’s right. You need a more substantial breakfast, my dear.” Mrs. Woodfield looked at the maid. “We’ll both have poached eggs and sausage.”

“No sausage. I’ll eat an egg, but no sausage. I didn’t sleep well, and I have the beginning of a headache.”

Mrs. Woodfield leaned to the side and placed her palm on Laura’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm. I do hope you’re not coming down with something.”

“I didn’t sleep well, that’s all. I couldn’t stop thinking about Mr. McKay and his advice. The entire visit seems so odd, doesn’t it? I don’t discount that he appeared sincere in his desire to be fair, but going behind his uncle’s back doesn’t seem right. I wonder if it’s some sort of plan they’ve concocted between themselves.”

“I think you’re misjudging Mr. McKay, though his advice was a bit odd. Winston will be upset that I’m not taking his advice, but I’ve decided that if the Lord wants us to sell to Mr. Crothers, we’ll receive some sort of sign. Something that will give me a feeling of certainty before I agree to sell.” Her mother picked up a small china pitcher and poured cream into her coffee. “This won’t be the first time Winston and I have disagreed. He’s a good lawyer, but a bit too pushy. If you decide he’s the man you want to marry, make certain you don’t let him control you overmuch.”

For most of her life, Laura’s mother had been easily swayed—especially by men. She had always bowed to her husband’s decisions. That’s what society expected. Women weren’t considered bright enough to understand business or politics, and if they had an opinion regarding such matters, they were expected to keep it to themselves.

Mrs. Woodfield had held fast to those rules until the war. When her husband marched off to battle, she’d been forced to take charge. The change had proved difficult, and Laura had encouraged her mother and praised each decision. As time passed, her mother fully embraced her new role, and it appeared she
wasn’t prepared to relinquish her decisions to anyone except the Lord.

There was a touch of irony in her mother’s cautionary remark. “We’re not yet engaged, so I don’t think you need to worry about marriage any time in the near future.”

Mrs. Woodfield arched her brows. “I believe Winston has already made up his mind that you’re the woman he wants at his side. No doubt you can expect a marriage proposal very soon. You offer what he wants in a wife.”

“And what is that, Mother?” She arched her brows. Had Winston already expressed his desire to propose? Had he spoken to her mother?

“You’d be the perfect wife to aid him in his political ambitions. You possess the poise and charm to connect with voters. And since he doesn’t want—”

Laura held up one hand. “Let’s not discuss this now, Mother. I fear my headache will worsen, and I’m expected at the orphanage this morning.”

“I’m sorry, my dear. I didn’t mean to rattle on.” Her mother finished her eggs and took a final sip of coffee. “It’s a beautiful morning. I thought we might sit on the porch. The fresh air might help your headache, and I could use your assistance. Our Ladies of the Union group has decided we should begin meeting again. We’ve met only a few times since the end of the war, and we’d like to resume regular meetings so we can serve some charitable needs in the area.”

Laura followed her mother to the front porch. “I do believe it’s time for a new name, as well.”

Her mother lowered herself into one of the cushioned willow chairs. “Perhaps, but I don’t believe you can fault us too much. There are several Southern states that haven’t yet been
readmitted to the Union. You’ll recall that our neighbor, Virginia, is among those states.”

“Of course I do, Mother, but you don’t need to wait until every state is readmitted before you change the name of your organization. Since the club was initially organized to make quilts and knit socks for the soldiers, perhaps now you could turn your attention to the needs of those soldiers’ widows who remain in the area. I’m sure there are many who continue to struggle. If the ladies need any further ideas, you can let them know that assistance is always needed at the orphanage.”

“I know helping the orphans gives you both solace and pleasure, dear, but most of the ladies in our group don’t possess the physical stamina necessary for such work.”

Laura didn’t miss the pity that shone in her mother’s eyes as she reached forward to pat Laura’s hand. “There are many things they could do that wouldn’t require physical strength. I doubt it would tax the ladies to read a book to the children.”

“That’s true enough, but the noise and activity at the orphanage would surely prove too much for us. The younger ladies should fill that void.” Her lips curved in a weak smile. “Besides, I think our organization is seeking fund-raising and sewing projects rather than volunteer work. Enid Matheson thought we should start a movement to raise money for a new state capitol building. She says that renting the Linsly School is demeaning and we need a beautiful structure that will rival those of other states.”

“And what do you think about Enid’s suggestion?” Laura turned her rocking chair away from the sun before sitting down. “Are you interested in organizing fund-raisers for our lawmakers?”

“Enid isn’t fooling me. Her husband, Hubert, hopes to win a seat in the legislature, and she’ll do anything or use anyone to
make sure it happens, including our Ladies of the Union group.” Her mother sniffed. “I find her behavior shameful.”

“Now, Mother, you ought not jump to conclusions. I’ve heard others say that construction of a new capitol building would not only help beautify Wheeling, but would also provide work for men in need of employment.”

“
Pshaw
. That’s a lot of political puffery, if you ask me. Just take a look around Bartlett and note the lack of able-bodied men. Our men who didn’t die in the war came home injured. Most of them can’t perform the jobs they had before the war.”

“That may be a bit of an exaggeration, Mother, but I do understand your point. I think if you present your concerns with some actual facts and figures, the ladies will rally behind you rather than Enid.” Giving a slight push with her foot, Laura set the rocking chair into motion. “Perhaps Winston could help gather some figures for you.”

“I suppose, but I may be capable of doing that myself. I can go into town and speak with folks on my own. I’m sure the mayor can help.”

Laura shaded her eyes and gazed toward the road. “Yes, but isn’t the mayor a friend of Hubert Matheson?”

“That’s true. He’s probably not a good choice.” Her mother twisted in her chair. “Someone’s coming. It’s early for a caller. I hope there isn’t some sort of trouble.”

“I think it’s Winston.” Laura squinted and stared for a moment longer. “Yes, it’s him. I wonder what brings him out our way.”

Mrs. Woodfield rose and stepped to the porch railing. “He must have news regarding the brickyard. No proper gentleman would call this early in the day unless it was a matter of importance.”

Laura couldn’t disagree with her mother’s assessment. Winston was a proper gentleman. Wearing his tan cutaway tailcoat
and tall black riding books of polished leather, he made a striking appearance. Up close, Winston wasn’t the most attractive man she’d ever met, but he possessed a debonair charm that proved difficult to resist.

“Good morning, ladies. A fine morning for a ride, wouldn’t you say?” Winston dismounted and tied the horse’s reins to the cast-iron hitching post. “I do apologize for the early morning visit, but I believe you’ll forgive me when you see what I have.” He reached inside his breast pocket and withdrew a folded paper. Waving it toward them, he climbed the porch steps. “This, ladies, is a contract of sale for Woodfield Brickworks.”

Clasping a hand to her bodice, Mrs. Woodfield lowered herself into the wicker chair. “So soon?” Her surprise was quickly replaced by a desire for information. “At what price? Did you bargain with them and lower the price without gaining my permission, Winston? If you did, I won’t sign those papers.”

“If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll explain.” He nodded toward the door. “Shall we go inside, where you can more closely examine the contract?”

Laura leaned close to her mother’s ear. “Looks as if the Lord has given you that sign you asked for.”

“We’ll see. I haven’t read the contract,” her mother said.

The three of them gathered in the parlor, and once they were seated, Winston detailed the terms of the contract. When he had finished, he leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Everything you asked for, Mrs. Woodfield. Mr. Crothers met your price and wishes to take possession as soon as possible.”

“Just what was it that convinced him, Winston? When you left here yesterday, I didn’t believe he would meet my price. Something must have happened. Is there something in the contract you’re not telling me?”

“Of course not. I’m your lawyer, Mrs. Woodfield. It’s my
duty to protect your interests. While I’d like to tell you it was my negotiating skill that convinced Mr. Crothers, that wouldn’t be true. I believe his nephew is the one who convinced him that they would lose a year of production if they’d waited much longer. Mr. McKay wants to take possession so they can begin digging clay.”

Mrs. Woodfield extended her hand. “Let me read the contract.” When Winston didn’t immediately hand it to her, she waved her hand. “You don’t expect me to sign without reading it, do you?”

Laura grinned. “You might as well give it to her. Arguing will only prolong things.”

After a firm nod, he handed the papers to her mother. Arms folded across his chest, his gaze shifted between the clock and Laura’s mother.

When she had turned to the last page, he leaned forward. “Ready to sign?”

“I believe I am. Before giving them the deed to the land and bill of sale for the equipment, make certain they’ve paid the full amount. Have them count it out in front of you. I don’t want to be cheated.”

“Rest assured that I will require payment in full from Mr. Crothers and I’ll immediately deposit the payment into your account at the bank. I do hope you know that you can trust me to protect your interests, Mrs. Woodfield.”

“He’s right, isn’t he, Laura? If we can’t trust Winston, who can we trust?” Rising from her chair, Laura’s mother crossed the room and sat down at the hand-carved maple writing desk. She dipped her pen into the ink, signed her name, and blotted her signature before handing the document back to Winston. “Thank you for your assistance, Winston. And do tell Mr. Crothers and Mr. McKay that if they have any questions regarding the
books and paper work at the brickyard, Laura will do whatever she can to assist them.”

“I’m sure they’ll be capable of handling matters, but I’ll pass along your offer.” He smiled at Laura. “Don’t feel any obligation, Laura. Irishmen can be a rough lot, especially when they’re drinking. Once they take possession, any problems belong to them. I don’t want you mingling with them, and there’s no need for you to go near the brickyard.”

Winston’s cautionary command surprised her. Although he’d escorted her to several social gatherings, he obviously didn’t know her as well as he believed. If so, he would have withheld his attempt to keep her from the brickyard. “Irish or not, I have no worries about Mr. Crothers and Mr. McKay.” She offered him a bright smile. “I appreciate your concern, but I am confident they are honorable men.”

“Of course they are. We’re going to be pleased to have them as our neighbors.” Mrs. Woodfield reached across the table and patted Winston’s hand. “Would you care for a cup of coffee to celebrate? I have a few questions about our Ladies of the Union group. Laura thought you might be able to furnish me with some information.”

Winston folded the documents and returned them to his inner pocket. “Mr. Crothers and Mr. McKay are anxiously awaiting my return. Perhaps I can come back and discuss your questions later in the week.”

“Of course. It’s not urgent.” Mrs. Woodfield grasped Winston’s arm and walked him to the front door.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. McKay were out at the brickyard digging clay before noon. The man is impatient to begin work.”

“That kind of determination would certainly win my admiration. My husband had that same type of resolve. That’s what
made his brickyard a success. I hope it will do the same for Mr. Crothers and Mr. McKay.” She stepped onto the front porch and smiled up at Winston. “I’m sure you feel the same way.”

Winston muttered an inaudible reply before mounting his horse. “Good day, ladies.”

Laura followed her mother inside. “I’m sorry to rush off, Mother, but Zeke will be bringing the buggy around for me any minute now.” She picked up her gloves from the table and started tugging them on. “If I don’t hurry I’ll be late to the orphanage, and Mrs. Tremble will think I’ve forgotten I’m scheduled to help this morning.”

Her mother sighed. “I wouldn’t want you to be late. I suppose I can sit on the porch and finish my morning coffee by myself.”

Laura chuckled and patted her mother’s shoulder. “Now, don’t be acting so gloomy. I’ll be home in time for the noonday meal. I promised the children we’d do something special today, and I don’t want to disappoint them.”

“I know the youngsters at the orphanage look forward to your time with them, but I believe the visits are even more important to you.” A look of concern clouded her mother’s eyes. “Be careful with your affections, my dear. Becoming overly attached can only lead to heartache.”