by Rona Randall
“To tell the truth, Mr Wesley, I know little about Methodism.” “Yet you have the very qualities on which it is based. Self-discipline, tenacity of purpose, dedication. You couldn’t have created that fine piece of work otherwise. You must have worked conscientiously and systematically. It was not I who first thought of applying self-discipline to one’s way of life in order to achieve spiritual fulfilment — it was my younger brother, Charles, during his second year at Oxford. After frittering away his first year, as all students do, he formed a group with other students and when I returned to my fellowship at Lincoln College, after serving as my father’s curate for two years, I was impressed by it. It was ridiculed as ‘The Holy Club’ in Oxford, and their system of improving their minds by reading and their characters by self-discipline, planning every hour of their day and meeting at the end of it to compare progress, was soon dubbed ‘methodism’ and they as ‘methodists’. I joined the society and, in time, devoted myself to it. Put simply, its laws are ‘Never be idle a moment. Never be triflingly employed. Never while away time’. I think you have already discovered those laws for yourself. They will stand you in good stead in your career and in your life.”
He held out a friendly hand. “I am proud to have met you, Master Drayton. You have a gift which you are ready to give to the world, and the will to do it. Let nothing prevent you.”
“Sir!” Martin called as the man turned away. “How soon will your centre open in Burslem?”
The good-looking face turned back to him. The attractive smile flashed. “As soon as possible, Master Drayton.”
“You will be opposed — ”
“Of course. Nothing worthwhile is achieved without opposition. That is worth remembering, too.”
Martin watched the short, well proportioned figure disappear into the crowd. He felt stimulated, challenged, and, for the first time, completely unafraid. With a light heart, he went in search of Amelia.
From the moment Emily entered her home and saw Joseph seated by the fireside, waiting, she knew from his expression that he did not share her elation over the evening’s events. Her happiness evaporated instantly.
She had always been glad that her eldest son had retained a key to Medlar Croft, enabling him to enter at will; his vigilance had given her a feeling of protection and she was aware that many a widow envied her for having such an attentive son. But at this moment all she felt was relief because Jessica and Simon were with her.
Joseph wasted no time in greeting his mother, but came to the point at once.
“I took Agatha home so we may discuss this disgraceful business alone. Pray dismiss these two so we may talk in private. Where is young Martin?”
“Stabling his horse,” said Simon, relieving his mother-in-law and then his wife of their cloaks. “He rode alongside us all the way and on such a night as this the best thing he can do is go straight to bed.”
“I did want him to drive with us,” Emily said, “but he preferred to ride.”
“I am not interested in his preferences. Nor am I interested in any comments or advice Kendall has to offer. I will speak with you alone.”
“You will speak with us too,” said Jessica, while her mother, looking puzzled, asked what disgraceful business Joseph was referring to. A hint of customary nervousness had come into her voice. This had been singularly absent throughout the evening and on entering her home she had looked remarkably happy, but now apprehension touched her face.
Seating herself beside her mother, Jessica took hold of her hand and pressed it reassuringly.
“Don’t be nervous, Mamma. There is no reason in the world for it. And I do think we should all take Simon’s advice and go to bed. I expect Clara has already done so, but it will be no trouble at all for me to prepare a room. And I think a hot toddy would not come amiss. I will make you a nutmeg one, the way I used to, if you would care for it?”
“You are not allowing this daughter of yours to stay here!”Joseph protested.
Emily’s chin tilted, and although her voice quavered slightly she said, “Indeed I am, my son, and her husband also. They were kind enough to see me safely home and naturally they must remain for the night. And after such an occasion, how can you speak so? I do declare I have never been so proud, both of my daughter’s husband and of my youngest son.”
Indignation had overcome the threat of nervousness. Jessica wanted to applaud, but this new aspect of his mother rendered Joseph speechless. Then fury gathered. Jessica saw it in his eyes, the set of his mouth, and in his betraying hands. To conceal their furious trembling he folded his arms aggressively, taking up the old, judicial stance in front of the fire.
“And if you do not mind,” Emily continued, her courage increasing, “I would be grateful if you would refrain from screening the fire. We all need the benefit of it after our journey, and you have had the advantage of it before our arrival. And yes, dear Jessica, a nutmeg toddy would be most welcome. Clara should be back from the canal festivities by now — she was going in one of the big wagons dear Sir Neville so kindly supplied — a whole team of them, I gather. So generous! Would you please pull the bell rope, Joseph, to summon her? And I hope you have not been waiting long, for I did observe you leave sometime ahead of everyone. It was thoughtful of you to call on your mother at such a late hour, but your anxiety was needless. Simon and Jessica took good care of me. Neville Armstrong wanted both Martin and me to spend the night at Ashburton, but alas, the dear boy has to start work so early. I do think that after such a night as this, Joseph, you might allow him an hour’s latitude tomorrow morning, particularly in view of his success, of which I am sure you were as proud as I.”
“You are unusually garrulous,” her son snapped. “Have you imbibed too much? As for allowing that young scamp any latitude at all, you underestimate me! Punishment is what he needs, and he shall have it.”
“I don’t understand. Why should he be punished? Surely rewarded would be more appropriate, after that wonderful surprise? But here he is, and I expect you are wanting to congratulate him. My dear boy, come to the fire — you must be cold after that long ride. You should have joined us in the carriage — but there, how can I scold you after such a triumph? And here is Clara. Dear Clara, have you had as enjoyable an evening as we? You must tell me all about it tomorrow. For now, you must bring hot toddies for everyone.”
“Not for me,” Joseph said curtly.
“Then for the rest of us, Clara. And you must have one yourself before going to bed.”
But Clara scarcely heard. She was gazing at Jessica in delight. “By all that’s wonderful, it’s our Miss Jessie! Oh, ma’am, ain’t it wonderful to see her and don’t she look a treat? Fair beautiful y’are, Miss Jessica! If wedlock do that for a woman, I wish I’d got meself an’usband years ago!” She chortled gleefully. “Well, I’ll be off to get them toddies, an’ then I’ll get the guest room ready an’ take an’ot brick to the sheets.”
She departed in a flutter of excitement, and Joseph said acidly, “Now that nonsensical display is over, and now my brother is here, we will have the discussion I came for. In private, as I said, dear Mother.”
“If it is in any way a family matter, it can be discussed in front of us all, since we are a family, but I must confess that after such an exciting evening I scarce feel equal to any serious conversation, so may it not wait until another day, Joseph?”
“It may not. Nor does it concern anyone but you, me, and brother Martin — ”
“ — and Jessica,” Simon put in, “and since anything concerning my wife concerns me, it will include me too, especially if it is in regard to Martin’s future, which I suspect it is. That matters deeply to both of us.”
“Martin’s future?” Emily echoed. “But his future is assured!”
“Is it?” said Joseph. “What makes you think so?”
“Because he is a Drayton, and Draytons have always served the family business — and how proud of him everyone at the pot bank will be, after tonight!”
“Proud — because he has produced a brash piece of work unbeknown to anyone? Because he has helped himself to materials from Drayton’s without a by-your-leave? Because he has lied and cheated without conscience? Because he has flouted the terms of his indentures to indulge his own crude fancy? Because a crowd of people lacking all taste applaud a gaudy toy made for a senile old man? Because instead of applying himself to his proper work, he has been playing about with my clay in my time at my expense? Don’t imagine, young Martin, that I have not suspected you were up to something. From the moment I saw a group of fluted bowls made to a design never used at Drayton’s, bowls I can no longer find anywhere on the premises, I have been suspicious. Max Freeman’s reports on your truancy whilst I was in London were plainly not unfounded. Where did you go? That atrocious animal was never made at the Drayton Pottery; nothing like it has been fired there. Every unloading has been inspected by me personally; that is why I know your fluted bowls have disappeared. What have you been up to? Have you been working at other premises, for someone else? Let me remind you that there is a clause in your indentures forbidding you to serve any other master.”
“The only master I have served, other than you, is myself. There is nothing in my indentures that forbids me to practice my craft in my own time.”
“Your craft is throwing, your sphere the throwing wheel. Beyond that, you have no talent at all.”
“He has a brilliant talent!”Jessica cried. “You have always been jealous of it!”
Simon’s touch on her hand silenced her. Wait, it said.
Emily looked from one son to the other, hands fluttering again, her brief confidence shattered. “But surely, dear Martin — surely that beautiful ceramic horse was made at Drayton’s?”
“No, Mamma.”
Joseph was triumphant. “As I thought! He has been working elsewhere, serving another master! That makes his indentures null and void. You have read them, my dear mother. You were there when they were signed and witnessed. You know what they contain and the guarantees they establish on either side. Break those guarantees, and there is nothing left, which means that there is no longer any place for him at Drayton’s, nor will there ever be so long as I am Master Potter there. You will wait a long time to inherit my shoes, young sir, for I have a long life ahead of me. I shall be Master of Drayton’s until the day I die.”
Emily uttered a helpless little cry. “You cannot mean this, Joseph! You cannot discharge him just like that! Serving Drayton’s is the heritage of every male member of the family — ”
“A mere tradition.”
“One handed down from father to son, or from brother to brother. It was so willed from the start.”
“Then, as I say, he must wait until his turn comes — if it ever does, for no doubt I shall have sons too. Draytons have bred them more frequently than daughters and, with the exception of Martin, a great deal more creditably.” His glance flickered to Jessica and away again. “Therefore my sons will inherit, since I am Master. You, young sir, must fend for yourself. Look to the potter who has been employing you behind my back. You have no other choice.”
“I have already told you that no one has been employing me, except myself.”
“Using my premises?”
“Using my own.”
Incredulity silenced Joseph briefly, and in the gap Emily protested, “But you have no place of your own, dear Martin! Listen to me, Joseph, I beg — the boy is teasing. There is nowhere at Medlar Croft where he could produce such things. I know what is in every attic, every room, every outhouse — he has not been working here, and I do swear he has gone to no other potter because he has been away from home only during late summer evenings, after the pot bank closed — ”
“Pottery, Mother. Do refer to it correctly.”
Unheedful, Emily hurried on, “— also on the Sabbath, when — ” Martin said swiftly, “If you will excuse me, Mamma, I would like to retire.”
“Not until we find out the truth,” Joseph commanded, his suspicion deepening.
“The truth,” said Simon Kendall, “is exactly as Martin has stated. He has used his own premises, and now he is free of your tyrannical control he can use them every day. He can work in his own time and his own way, producing work which will take him to the top. We have faith in him, if you have not.”
A speculative look came into Joseph’s eyes, and his mother’s apprehension sharpened. She had seen that calculating expression appear on her eldest son’s face before, when confronted with a situation he did not like. It preceded anger of a kind she dreaded — white-hot and unmerciful. As a child it had developed from tantrums into the tempestuous abuse which characterised one who was determined to have his way in all things, ready to attack if thwarted. After these terrifying rages the toys of his sisters and brother would lie devastated, ornaments would be shattered, articles wrecked. Although George had done his best to quell such outbursts his will had never been strong enough to succeed. His nature had been gentle and hers too easily intimidated.
Never before had she admitted this, but the resolution in Simon Kendall’s voice, and in Jessica’s face as she looked back at Joseph, made her acknowledge it now. She had never had the courage to withstand her eldest son’s iron determination, but Jessica had always done so, and always to her cost.
Emily’s own defence had been quiescence. Submit, and storms could be averted. The wisest course now was to get poor Martin out of the way, but he too was looking at his brother fearlessly. She had never seen Martin so totally in control of himself. Although he had never been cowardly, shyness and self-doubt had tortured him throughout his young life and not until comparatively recently had she seen self-assurance grow. Had that been due to developing his talent in secret? But this very secrecy had been a mistake, and now he was to suffer for it.
She said anxiously, “Martin — I think perhaps you should go to bed.”
It was the worst thing she could have said, for Joseph turned his cold eyes on her and rapped, “You, too Mother? Are you aiding and abetting now, as they have plainly been doing behind my back? Any ruse to end this talk will not succeed. Before this meeting is over I shall get to the truth, and if you are involved you will suffer for it.”
“She had nothing to do with it!” Martin cried. “She knew nothing, suspected nothing. Leave her alone.”
“So — you have been deceiving your mother also. And these two have been responsible — your sister and this upstart from the peasantry of Burslem.”
Simon’s laughter was genuine. “If you are an example of the gentry from these parts, which mercifully you are not, I consider my background to have been a distinct advantage. As for being responsible for Martin’s independence, I am happy to say we were, though the success of it is entirely his own doing. Your brother deserved help, and it didn’t need Jessica to make me aware of that. So do your damnedest. It is time you realised that people can and do live their lives successfully and happily without interference from a man as arrogant as you. You may be Master of Drayton’s, but you are not master of this boy’s life, nor of any other. Intimidate your mother, and you will have me to reckon with. Try to ruin Martin’s career and you will be doomed to failure. His talent is already being recognised and will continue to be. Men like John Wesley went out of their way to meet him tonight — ”
“Wesley! That is no honour. The man is a ranting rebel, a disgrace to his cloth.”
“Indeed he is not!” Martin cried. “I was proud to be singled out by him. Talking to him was inspiring. I only wish it could have lasted longer. When he opens his centre in Burslem I shall miss no opportunity to hear him preach. After Hartley’s boring sermons it will be a relief.”
“Madam!” Joseph turned on his mother. “Did you hear that? Is that how you have brought up your son — to be defiant, irreligious, pursuing those who defy authority and the Church? Mark this — I am still head of this family and will be obeyed. That means, my young brother, that you will set foot in no other es
tablishment but God’s church and listen to no other preacher but those of whom I personally approve. As for conniving with your sister and this man behind my back — ”
“They helped me! There was no ‘connivance’ in the way you mean.”
“And we are glad we helped him,” Simon added. “Furthermore, if I can ever find a means to break your stranglehold on his share of the family business, I shall seize it.”
“You will fail. The Drayton Pottery is mine.”
“For the present. Now I suggest you leave this house and go to your own.”
But Joseph was impervious to anything but his own wishes, and those wishes had yet to be satisfied. He shouted at Martin, “Where are these premises you call your own? I demand to know.”
“Since I am no longer your apprentice, I need not answer.”
“As I pointed out just now, I am still head of this family, so answer me you will. Precisely where have you been during the late summer evenings and the Sundays your mother referred to?” A faint gasp from Emily jerked his head in her direction. “So, dear Mamma, even if you were ignorant at the time, you have now guessed — ”
Jessica cut in, “Guessing is unnecessary. We were happy to provide a workshop for him.”
Joseph murmured, “So that explains the smoke…”
Alarmed for the first time, Martin was about to speak when Jessica told him not to be perturbed, adding that nothing Joseph could do or say could affect either themselves or him.
“I am not worried about myself, Jess, but I cannot allow him to blame you and Simon. You are the best friends in the world to me.”
Joseph sneered, “Then your choice of friends is to be regretted, brother. And I wonder if you will feel the same about them when you are struggling to make ends meet. Ceramic modelling will get you nowhere. There is no demand for it, except to satisfy the occasional whim of self-centred old men who fancy an ornament for their mantelpieces. It is the potters who supply domestic ware who thrive.”
“Then I shall supply it and thrive too. I shall do what our forefathers did. They peddled their wares from village to village, town to town, pushing home-made carts and sleeping under them at nights until they could afford the luxury of pack horses and a penny to some farmer for the privilege of sleeping in a hayrick.” Martin’s temper rose. “Who are we to sneer at Simon’s background? He will climb high, and so will I.”
