His thoughts returned to the early-morning confrontation with Catriona Duncan. Would her ideas work? They sounded feasible, sensible even, but it would cost money to set up. It might be advantageous to oversee the printing process here in Glasgow, but his uncle would be furious at the very idea of having a woman in charge. Rory smiled wryly as he imagined Matthew's outrage at the very notion, especially combined with the need to invest more money setting up something he was so contemptuous about.
Then his smile died. He was unlikely to see her again, she'd been so angry in her disappointment, but there were other people he could employ to control such a workshop as she'd suggested, although it wouldn't be the same. In any case, ought he to spend money this way? He had no illusions, it would cost a considerable sum to set up, and if after all he had to abandon the whole scheme, Matthew would have more cause for complaint.
He'd sleep on it, he decided, and pulled the ledgers towards him. There was plenty of other work to be done.
A moment later the door burst open, slamming against the wall behind, and Silas MacNab strode in. He cast his hat down on the desk, narrowly missing the inkwell.
Rory looked up and encountered a hot glare.
'Silas? What's happened?'
Silas was striding angrily about the room. 'I won't have you make my girl a laughing-stock!' he said, and swung round to point an accusing finger at Rory. 'I know you have your women, and I'm not against that, provided you're discreet about it. Nor would Susannah mind, but when your name's bandied about that's different! How dare you, sir!'
'How dare I what? At least do me the courtesy of explaining what I'm supposed to have done before you rant at me in this intemperate fashion!' Rory said, equally angry.
As he stood up Silas approached and jabbed a fat forefinger in Rory's chest. 'Don't try to play the innocent! You had a woman in your rooms last night. Don't try to deny it. She was seen, and heard, asking for you, and she was let in.'
Rory stared at him in astonishment. 'You listen to such gossip, and come here to berate me without even asking if it's true?' he demanded.
Silas glared. 'Well, is it true?'
'I do not see that my behaviour is in any way your business, but yes, I had a visitor last night, but if your informant – your spy, perhaps I should say – had waited, he would have seen her leave very shortly afterwards. And if you choose not to take my word for it, you can enquire of my landlady, and she will tell you my visitor remained in her drawing room the whole time, and it was scarcely long enough for any of the behaviour you attribute to me to have taken place. Now, I would be grateful if you left, after offering me an apology, and permitted me to continue the work you have interrupted.'
Silas stared at him, biting his lip. The bombast visibly shrank. 'Is that true?'
'I am not in the habit of telling you or anyone else lies,' Rory said, his voice icily cold.
'Then I apologise,' Silas said after a lengthy pause. 'Of course I accept your word. Rory, it's not that I object to discreetly conducted liaisons, every red-blooded man has them. It's because people are beginning to talk about you and Susannah, and wonder what the delay is, why you have not offered for her, that makes me anxious. Say you understand.'
'I would greatly prefer it if you and Susannah ceased to expect what I have not offered,' he replied, his voice still cold. 'Now, I really do have a great deal to do.'
Silas, after a few more disjointed remarks, left, and Rory sat for a few moments with his head in his hands. He felt as though the walls were falling in on him, badgered as he was on all sides, everyone wanting what he could not, with a clear conscience, give. Yes, he would probably offer for Susannah one day, but he would not become her father's pensioner. Until he had sufficient fortune of his own, and that seemed an even more distant prospect now, unless this new scheme succeeded, he would not offer for any woman.
An hour later, just after he and Joshua had finished their dinner and returned from the nearby tavern, there was another visitor. Rory sighed deeply as he heard the light tap and called to whoever it was to enter. Was he never to get any peace in order to catch up with his work?
Catriona Duncan swept in, carrying a large bundle which she deposited behind the door.
'I've had an idea,' she announced.
Rory groaned. 'No.'
Catriona grinned unrepentantly at him. 'You haven't even heard what it is yet, so don't be so curmudgeonly.'
'I'm not – oh, I suppose you won't go away until I've heard you out. Come and sit down.'
She beamed at him, and he felt some of the tension leave him. Her cheerfulness seemed somehow to have brought more sunshine into the office.
'You have some money of your own?'
Rory raised his eyebrows in astonishment, and nodded. 'Not a great fortune.'
'Then this is what I suggest. Set up the printing shop as a separate business, and charge your uncle for the work that is done. Or if you prefer, offer to buy his linen, and then sell it on at a profit when it's been printed. He'll think he has a bargain, he'll get rid of the linen at no risk. That way you will keep your money. And you can always go to other manufacturers to buy linen from them, so your uncle will be happy to supply you. You need not pay me, yet. Well, I'd need just enough to rent a room to live in, and eat. When you have begun to make a profit you can give me whatever we agree to be a fair wage.'
'Steady! Don't take so much for granted!' Rory felt both overwhelmed and exhilarated by the spate of ideas but, cautious businessman that he was, he was determined to show neither emotion. 'You are taking over my life entirely! Would you expect me to abandon his business? I promised to stay for a while.'
Catriona waved her hands expansively. 'No, you can do both. If you haven't the worry of persuading weavers to do a job they don't want to do, you'll have ample time to run both businesses. Aunt Joan always used to say we could always find sufficient time to perform the tasks we really wanted to do.'
It had possibilities. Why hadn't he thought of it? Rory began to wonder if in this way he would be able to stay free of his uncle, at least to some extent. 'I'll think about it.'
She frowned. 'It will be too late by the time you've considered every angle. Tell me about Angus Mackenzie?'
'Him? Why?'
'Your uncle mentioned him. It sounded as though he was enticing your workers away with higher wages.'
'Yes, he is, but we think he may be having difficulties. He's been selling a pair of horses and a carriage.'
'Yes. That's what I heard. It's true.'
'How do you know?'
'I went and asked his stablelads. But never mind that. He must be short of money, which is encouraging. Let's find a suitable place to rent as a workshop, and a room for me to rent. I need somewhere to live.'
'Stop!' Rory by this time was also pacing the office floor, and to keep the whirlwind that was his wildcat still, he caught her hands in his and swung her close to him. 'I didn't agree to all this!'
'But it makes sense,' she insisted, and Rory, staring down into her blue eyes, felt his resistance crumbling. The ideas were attractive, and her enthusiasm gave him hope they might succeed. What would he lose? He had everything to gain, his independence, profit for himself and his uncle, and pride in a new venture.
He took a deep breath and slowly, reluctantly, released her. 'I'm not promising anything.'
'If you don't agree, I have to find another position.'
'Why? I thought you were working at the hotel?'
'I was, but I was dismissed this morning.'
'Why? What did you do?'
She grinned at him. 'Why assume it was my fault? It was, as it happens, but it was very hard work, I didn't like it. I'd far rather work with you. But if you don't want me, I'll have to go and find somewhere to live, and then look for something else to do. If I don't, and have to spend the rest of my wages, I'll not earn enough to go to Holland for years to come. He wouldn't pay me what I was due, you see, so all I have are the tips I was given.'
> 'That's wicked!'
She shrugged. 'I imagine it's fairly normal. But if you can suggest somewhere I can stay, tomorrow we can go and see whether there is anywhere suitable for a workroom that we can rent.'
*****
Chapter 12
Exhilarated at the thought that she would be working for Rory, Catriona sank down on the bed in her new room with a sigh of relief. After just one night it had begun to feel like home. She had for a crazy moment hoped there might be space for her in the house where Rory lodged, but he had soon dismissed that idea.
'There are no vacancies,' he'd said firmly when she asked, rather tentatively, if his landlady might take her in.
'I suppose your landlady would harbour lewd suspicions,' she murmured provocatively.
Instead he took her to the house next door to the one where he had his own rooms. To her secret relief, there was a small attic room available. She wouldn't feel so alone knowing he was near.
She was perhaps even more exhausted today than after a day working in the hotel, but it was worth it. They'd argued, he'd been annoyed with her, but she'd been stimulated as never before by his company, and the thought of working together for something important.
The next morning they'd begun the search for suitable premises. It had taken a long time to find a room which she accepted as suitable for the new venture. She grinned reminiscently. Rory Napier, rather bewildered, having at last agreed to consider her idea, would have taken the first one they'd seen, or the second or third. He had become increasingly annoyed with her as she rejected them, either because there was insufficient water available, they were not big enough for the many tables she said were needed, or the lighting was inadequate because of tiny windows, or the doors and windows were inconveniently located.
When she had nodded approval, he had asked her with deep sarcasm whether she was truly satisfied, or had she merely run out of ideas for objections.
'This is ideal,' she'd replied sweetly, and that had made him even more irritated.
He'd insisted on providing her with supper, cooked by his landlady, who, pursing her lips in disapproval, served it to them in her own dining room. She'd enjoyed the good meat, a leg of mutton roasted over a spit, tender and succulent, and the wine Rory ordered, with which he toasted their future business venture.
Catriona undressed and crawled wearily into the bed, relishing its softness. It had been the happiest day she experienced since the loss of her parents. She felt alive in Rory's company. Reluctantly she forced herself to concentrate on business. Had she forgotten anything? She and Rory had spent a good deal of time after supper making lists of what she needed in the new printing workshop, and he had promised to purchase and install them on the following day, if by then he had signed the lease, which he hoped to do in the morning.
'I also need to see my lawyer to set up proper arrangements for a separate business,' he said. 'I'll talk to Uncle Matthew, as well, and keep him informed of my plans.'
She wondered how that unpredictable old gentleman had received the news. Sighing, she began to enumerate what she needed once more, but within minutes was asleep.
*****
'You've done what?' Matthew Ogilvie's question began as a roar, and finished in a squeak as his voice rose in agitation.
Rory grinned. He didn't often see the old man as non-plussed as he was now.
'I'm relieving you of the trouble and expense of printing your linens, Uncle. I am, that is I have already, set up my own business with a workshop where the printing will be done, in proper conditions and under supervision, so that there are fewer problems, and less wastage.'
'In just a day?'
'A little more.' Rory was proud of the speed with which he had organised matters, despite Catriona's fussiness over the workshop premises. The lease had been signed, the rent paid, and Catriona was at this moment supervising some women she had hired to clean the place from top to bottom.
'Why didn't you tell me? Does this mean you're leaving me? When I've lost John too? If you are, you ungrateful dog, you'll see none of my money!'
Rory held up his hand to halt the flow.
'Your money is not a consideration, but I am not leaving you. Not, that is, unless you force me out. I have an excellent manager to oversee the new workshop, and I will be able to devote as much time to your business as before. More, most like, since I won't have to be chasing after weavers who are willing to do the printing.'
'Manager? Who?'
Rory did not feel it politic to give too many details. If his uncle knew he was putting all this trust in a female he would burst with incredulity or indignation.
'Oh, someone who has had experience of the processes in Holland. A skilled designer and wood-carver, too. I'll soon have some exciting patterns to print. And it's someone who will be well able to control the people I'm employing.'
He grinned at this last thought. When in the grip of her enthusiasm, and with her insistence on perfection, Catriona Duncan could control an army.
'Where will you get the linen?'
'I'll do it for you, at a price, or I'll buy it from you, plain, and sell it later, patterned. It depends on which you prefer.'
'What if I refuse to let you have any?'
'I'm your manager, responsible for selling your linens. If you wish to control where I sell, I will have to leave you. I'm giving you the choice, but if you prefer me to leave I can buy linen from elsewhere.'
Matthew glowered. 'You can't sell to yourself.'
'I can sell to my business from yours.'
'You expect to make a profit, if you buy from me?' Matthew looked thoughtful.
'Of course. Printed fabrics are fashionable, they have been ever since we began importing them from India. I shall make a profit.'
'Then why not keep this workshop as part of the business? If you can do it properly, I'd not object. And all the profit would be yours in the end, when I'm gone.'
'But then I'd not have control,' Rory replied bluntly. 'I could set this business up, make it successful, and someone like Silas MacNab could buy into what is your business, and who knows, he might decide I am no longer needed.'
'Not if you wed Susannah.'
'I won't do that under pressure.'
The old devil was interested in the profit, Rory thought in amusement. He wanted to share in it, having been opposed to the whole idea until he scented potential success. I'll make him pay, he decided, by driving a very hard bargain either for purchasing the linen, or doing the printing.
They haggled for half an hour more, and in the end Rory prevailed, as he'd expected. He would buy as much linen as he wanted, at a price below that he charged other customers, and Matthew would have no say in how his business was run.
'I'm relieved you're showing some initiative at last, my boy,' Matthew said eventually. 'That's my good training, of course, but I confess I never thought to see the day when you'd start using it. I'm going back home soon,' he added, his voice quavering. 'Glasgow doesn't agree with me, and I prefer to be back in Braemar before the snows come. Come and sup with me tomorrow.'
Rory agreed, and went back to his office. He was sending messages to so many people, purchasing tables and stools, containers for the dyes, and the multitude of other necessities Cat had ordered him to obtain. The only item she insisted on purchasing for herself was wood for the blocks, since she preferred to have certain types, and maintained she must inspect the quality before she bought. She'd also demanded she had the final say in who was employed to do the work, and finally he'd agreed that they choose together.
He felt invigorated despite the relentless pressure. Instead of toiling for his uncle, a duty for which he received scant acknowledgement, he could foresee a different, more satisfying future. And it was all due to that wildcat of a girl he'd met by chance amongst the heather of the Highlands.
An hour later he received a visitor, Silas MacNab. Inwardly groaning at the interruption, Rory offered him whisky. Silas was at first rather restrain
ed, probably recalling their last encounter, but soon he resumed his normal hectoring manner.
'Thanks, my boy. Now, what's this nonsense Matthew's been telling me? About you setting up on your own? Damned ungrateful, I call it, after all your uncle's done for you.'
'My uncle never wanted printed linens, so I've removed the problem from him,' Rory said curtly. 'It's my business, at my risk.'
'But, you had problems before. What's different now? Have you taken leave of your senses?'
'No, I've acquired a designer who can produce wonderful patterns and do the printing.'
Silas glared. 'Either you'll ruin yourself or steal Matthew's profit. I'd be willing to hazard ruin, first.'
'You are entitled to your view, sir.'
The other was silent, sipping his whisky, and glancing occasionally at Rory from beneath lowered eyebrows. Then he smiled slightly.
'We'll soon see. Now then, my boy, don't be so preoccupied with this nonsense of yours you forget Susannah's ball next week. You've received the invitation?'
'Yes, and thank you. I intend to be there, of course,' Rory said reluctantly. In fact, he had wondered whether it would be better to avoid it, but all Glasgow society would be there, and his absence would cause more talk in the clubs and drawing rooms than if he were present. At least Susannah would be forced to pay attention to all her other guests, and he could remain in the background.
Silas nodded, and rose to go. 'You'd better not disappoint my girl, or you'll suffer for it.'
*****
'She's young, she'll learn quickly,' Rory said impatiently, getting up and striding about the newly furnished workroom.
Catriona sighed deeply. If only he'd let her get on with choosing the people she wanted to work with they could be starting printing within days. At this sort of progress it would take weeks before she had a proper group of conscientious and willing workers. She glanced round the large airy room, lit with big windows, holding three huge tables and all the other equipment she needed. It was ideal, and she was impatient to get started, but it had to be absolutely right or they would certainly have problems later on.
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