“Yes. It’s a lovely setting. You can see most of the valley. The trees hide the brickyard from view, but you can see the river from two of the upstairs bedrooms.” Laura turned at the sound of an approaching horse. “It appears Mother is going to get to the house before we do. That will please her. She would be completely disappointed in me if we entered the house unchaperoned.”
“Aye.” Ewan grinned and nodded. “I would not want to be the one causing your mother grief—or you, either.”
They stepped to the side as the buggy approached, and Mrs. Woodfield called to the driver to stop. Leaning forward, she extended her hand to Laura. “Give me the key and I’ll open the house. I’m sure it needs to be aired.”
Ewan didn’t care if the house was aired; he merely wanted to see the size and condition of the dwelling. If he could offer his aunt a good report, she might stop criticizing Uncle Hugh. Ewan needed his uncle’s attention to remain centered on the brickyard, not on building a new house.
Once they arrived outside the structure, Ewan stopped and surveyed the exterior of the house. “’Tis a fine dwelling. I can only hope that Aunt Maggie will agree and be satisfied until a new house that meets her every wish can be constructed.”
Laura strode toward the steps leading to a generous front porch. “I think I may have detected a hint of disdain in your comment, Mr. McKay.”
Ewan bowed his head. “Aye, and I do apologize for harboring and speaking unkind comments about my aunt. ’Twas not proper.”
“No apology needed. Your aunt made an unforgettable impression.” Laura waved him forward. “My mother and I both hope to forge a friendship with her, since your family will be living nearby.”
Ewan mounted the steps. “I’m sure she’ll be eager to visit, to ask your advice about the best places to shop, and to inquire about the guests she should entertain. My aunt has a strong desire to be welcomed into fashionable society.”
Laura stopped outside the front door. “We will be pleased to help her. And if your aunt and her sister enjoy volunteer work, there are always positions to be filled.”
“I know you helped your father at the brickyard, but is volunteer work how most society ladies fill their days, Miss Woodfield?”
“We all try to do our part. I’m thankful for the life my parents were able to provide me, so I want to help others who have been less fortunate. I think most of the ladies want to do what they can to ease the suffering of others.”
“So what is it you do to help the needy, Miss Woodfield?”
“Since I enjoy children, I volunteer my time at the orphanage.”
Ewan’s lips lifted in a broad smile. “We have more in common than bricks, Miss Woodfield. To be sure, I think children are a blessing from God. I cannot imagine a life without children of my own, can you?”
His question hung in the air as Laura silently motioned him inside.
The area was large enough to greet several guests, though not nearly as large as the grand hallway at Woodfield Manor. A wide staircase boasting a hand-carved black-walnut banister rose from the left wall and a wide entrance led to the formal parlor to the right. Mrs. Woodfield had already opened the pocket doors, and Zeke was struggling to open some of the windows.
“Let me help with those. With all the rain, the wood has probably swelled a bit.” Ewan crossed the room and soon had two of the windows open at the front of the house. Once Zeke had managed to raise a window along the side, a cross breeze soon drifted through the room.
Mrs. Woodfield inhaled a shallow breath. “That’s a little better, but it will be several hours before we’re rid of the stale air.” She waved toward Zeke. “Open the rest of these downstairs windows and then go up to the bedrooms.” Her forehead creased in a frown. “Maybe Zeke should spend the night here. He could leave the windows open, and it would be as fresh as a daisy by morning.”
“Now, Mrs. Woodfield, you know I don’t like sleeping anywhere but in my own bed.” The older man shuddered. “Maybe you should send Joseph. That young fella is always open to a bit of adventure. But me? I like my regular routine.”
“Then we’ll have Joseph come over.” Mrs. Woodfield turned to Ewan. “Would you like to begin upstairs or continue here on the main floor, Mr. McKay?”
“Down here is fine. I was wondering about the workhorses your husband used to operate the pug mills. Is there any chance you still have the animals?”
“Zeke, do we still have those horses Mr. Woodfield used down at the brickyard?”
Zeke jerked and hit his head on the window frame. “Sure do.” He rubbed his head. “Them are some mighty fine horses, Mr. McKay. Percherons. That’s the only kind Mr. Woodfield ever used in the yard. He said that breed was hard workers. And they is. Charlie’s good-natured all the time. Jack can sometimes be stubborn, but once you convince him who’s boss, he’ll give you a better day’s work than any other horse you harness up to turn a pug mill.”
“I was wondering if the horses were included in the sale, Mrs. Woodfield. I did not read the contract.”
“Truly?” She arched her brows. “In the future, you may find it isn’t wise to settle upon a contract without full knowledge, Mr. McKay.”
“Aye, that’s wise counsel, Mrs. Woodfield, but since my uncle was the one signing the agreement and paying the money, he did not believe there was any need for me to read the contents.”
“But I thought you and your uncle were partners. Did I misunderstand?”
“We will become partners once I’ve earned my share in the company. My uncle expects me to oversee operations at the brickyard.”
“I see.” Her lips curved in a gentle smile. “I think it would be better for you to be the one acquiring contracts for the company, Mr. McKay. Unfortunately, your uncle’s demeanor doesn’t create a sense of trust. My husband always said that trust and dependability were the greatest assets a company could offer its customers. Perhaps your uncle should oversee daily operations, and you should travel to Wheeling and Pittsburgh to meet with building contractors.” She tucked a wisp of her graying hair beneath her shirred russet bonnet. “Think about what I’ve said.”
Ewan nodded. “Aye, that I will, but I do not think my uncle will be so quick to listen.”
“Does he understand the operation of a brickyard, Mr. McKay?” Mrs. Woodfield asked, arching her brows.
“He does, but he’s not keen on the idea of hard work now that he’s got a bit of money in his pockets.”
“Then maybe a visit with me will help. I think I may be able to convince him that my suggestions will benefit him.”
Ewan didn’t want to argue with the woman, but she’d not soon convince Hugh Crothers of any such thing. Uncle Hugh might take a stroll through the yard from time to time, but his plans didn’t include overseeing the digging of clay or the molding of bricks. That’s the reason he’d brought Ewan along. But if they failed to win contracts because of his uncle’s abrasive behavior, there would be no need to burn bricks.
Mrs. Woodfield continued the tour, leading him from the dining room into a small library and an informal parlor. “Tell your uncle he should pay me a call.” She hesitated for a moment. “Add that I have some helpful information to share with him.” She gestured toward the hallway. “Shall we go upstairs?”
“I am still wondering about those horses, Mrs. Woodfield.”
She chuckled. “Yes, of course.” She strode toward the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. “Zeke, do we have a need for those two workhorses any longer?”
Zeke’s work boots clomped on the floor as he crossed the room. Ewan bent forward, eager to hear the response.
“I don’t reckon we do, Mrs. Woodfield. They’s been doing nothing but grazing and getting lazy since the brickyard shut down. Might take a bit of urging to get ’em back in working form. I told you last winter you should sell the both of ’em.”
“I’m sure you did, but since we still have them, they’ll be of use to Mr. Crothers and Mr. McKay.” She turned and met Ewan
’s gaze. “When you tell your uncle I have some information for him, tell him I also have two good Percherons that are trained for the pug mill.”
Ewan nodded. Mrs. Woodfield’s behavior surprised him. She seemed to possess more familiarity with business affairs than he’d first thought. Either that or she’d become quite shrewd since meeting Uncle Hugh. Ewan hoped it was the former, for Uncle Hugh could sniff out a bluff in no time. The man had, after all, made his money gambling. He doubted whether Mrs. Woodfield would prove a match for Uncle Hugh, but he would pass along her messages and see what happened. He truly wanted—no, needed—those Percherons. The cost to purchase good workhorses should be enough to at least get Uncle Hugh to Mrs. Woodfield’s doorstep.
The older woman traced her fingers along the bedstead that remained in the largest of the four upstairs bedrooms. “Isaiah insisted upon new furniture when we moved to Woodfield Manor. I wanted to bring this bed and the wardrobe, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said I deserved new furniture in my new house.”
“Sounds as though your husband took pleasure in spoiling you a bit, Mrs. Woodfield.”
Ewan could understand a man wanting to treat his wife well, but he couldn’t imagine leaving all of this fine furniture behind—or the house, for that matter. Though it was no match for Woodfield Manor, this was a fine home. Perhaps those feelings arose from the life of deprivation he’d led in Ireland.
If Mrs. Woodfield planned to leave these furnishings, they could move in immediately. There would be no need to purchase furniture. A fact that would surely please Uncle Hugh.
“This is a fine house with a lovely view, Mrs. Woodfield. Once my aunt sees it, I’m sure she’ll settle in until a new house can be built.”
“That’s good news, Mr. McKay. It has never been my intent to deceive anyone. That was not my husband’s method of conducting business, and it is not mine. I didn’t realize there was any confusion about the ownership of Woodfield Manor until your family appeared on our doorstep.”
Laura stepped to her mother’s side. “Mr. McKay understands, Mother. He doesn’t place any blame on our shoulders.”
From the arch of her brows, she seemed to expect him to agree. “Aye. What your daughter says is true. I do not place any blame on either of you.”
Ewan was careful to exclude his aunt and uncle from his answer. By now, he wasn’t sure what his relatives believed. No doubt Mr. Hawkins had heard more than an earful of Aunt Maggie’s dissatisfaction and would be pleased to have this misunderstanding settled.
Mrs. Woodfield descended the front steps. “I believe we’re done here, Zeke. Let’s get back to the house. After supper, Joseph can come over and spend the night. By morning, the house will be well aired.”
“Um-hum.” Zeke stroked his chin. “With all them windows wide open, Joseph may be frozen stiff as an icicle by morning.” Zeke helped the older woman into the buggy.
“I’ll send extra blankets. It’s not that cold yet.” She pulled the key out of her pocket and presented it to Ewan. “Here you go. Now, you two should begin heading back to the house soon. If you have time before you start back to Bartlett, come in for a cup of tea, Mr. McKay.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Ewan tipped his hat. “We’ll be on our way in no time.” After Mrs. Woodfield left, he looked at the key and then at Laura. “I was going to lock the door, but with all the windows open, I don’t suppose there’s any need to worry about that.”
She grinned. “You’re right. Besides, it will be easier for Joseph to get in if he doesn’t have to climb through a window.”
Ewan slapped his palm to his head. “I already forgot about Joseph spending the night. I don’t want to make him feel unwelcome.” He offered Laura his arm. “Shall we start back? I don’t want your mother thinking we’ve been out here without a chaperone for too long.”
“I think she trusts you, Mr. McKay.” Laura slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. “I hope you and your family will enjoy as much happiness in this house as we did.”
Right now, Ewan wasn’t worried about the family being happy so much as he feared Aunt Maggie might have found some loophole in their contract. If she did, there would be no stopping her. They’d be on the next train out of Bartlett.
They’d walked only a short distance when the sound of hoofbeats thrummed on the road, and they turned to see Winston approaching on horseback. He reined the horse to a stop beside them and then fixed his gaze on Laura’s hand resting in the crook of Ewan’s arm.
Ewan tipped his hat. “Good afternoon, Mr. Hawkins. I hope your meeting with my aunt and uncle went well.”
“Your aunt is not easily swayed. I’m still not certain she believes the contract is valid. When I finally excused myself, your uncle was talking to her.” Concern creased his features as his focus returned to Laura’s hand. “You’re out here without a chaperone, Laura?”
“Mother was here until moments ago. Zeke took her home in the buggy.” Laura dropped her hold on Ewan’s arm.
Winston frowned and his eyeglasses slid from the bridge of his nose. Using his index finger, he shoved them back in place. “Even so, I’m not certain being unchaperoned out here in the woods with this . . . this Irishman would be considered acceptable by anybody.” His eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze toward Ewan.
Anger cinched every muscle in Ewan’s body. He fought off the urge to yank the lawyer off his horse and lash him. How dare he accuse Miss Woodfield of inappropriate behavior. He gritted his teeth as the memory of his promise to never again fight came to mind. Not since he’d made that promise to the Lord had he ever wished he could take it back—until now.
Ewan inhaled a deep breath. “I do not care what you say about me or my Irish kin, Mr. Hawkins, but you owe the lady an apology. She’s as decent a lass as one could ever meet on this earth, and I do not think a true gentleman would ever accuse her of being any less.” Laura held up her hand to protest, but Ewan shook his head and grabbed the horse’s reins. “Nay, Miss Woodfield. None of us will be going any further until Mr. Hawkins offers an apology.”
In spite of the cool air, perspiration trickled from beneath Winston’s hat. “I apologize, Laura. I’ll see you at the house.” His jaw twitched as he yanked the reins from Ewan and rode off.
“Not much of an apology, but glad I am to see his back.”
The two of them stared down the road for a moment before Ewan offered Laura his arm.
But this time she didn’t accept.
Chapter 6
Moving at a slight angle, Laura managed to create a visible space between her and Ewan. From the wounded look in his eyes, there was no doubt she’d hurt his feelings.
“I hope I haven’t offended you by keeping a distance between us, Mr. McKay. It’s just that Winston was correct. It was improper of me to come out here without a chaperone.” She inhaled a deep breath. “I tend to be careless when it comes to proper etiquette.”
Ewan kicked a pebble along the path. “Is that what you think, or what Mr. Hawkins tells you?”
“Please don’t think harshly of Mr. Hawkins. Winston fears my impulsive behavior might one day cause me some sort of social disfavor. He means well. That fact aside, he is only emphasizing what I already know.”
“Since you’re so quick to follow Mr. Hawkins’s orders, I am guessing you’re betrothed to the man.”
Laura gasped. “You have guessed incorrectly, Mr. McKay. I am not betrothed to anyone, and I am not following orders.”
“I did not intend to make you angry, Miss Woodfield.”
“I am not angry.” She enunciated each word.
Ewan grinned and hiked a shoulder. “You sound angry.”
“Well, I’m not, so let’s talk about something else.” Her mind whirled as she attempted to change the course of their conversation. “What about the brickyard?”
“What about it?” Ewan’s brows dipped low on his forehead, but then he laughed. “Now I understand. You want to talk about the brickyard rather than have me as
k questions about your Mr. Hawkins. Is that it?”
Laura sighed. “He is not my Mr. Hawkins, but you are right. I would prefer talking about the brickyard. I’m sure you have some questions I might be able to answer.”
“Aye, I’m sure there is much you could tell me. You said you sometimes acted as timekeeper for your father. Did you walk about the yard to spot the workers?”
She straightened her shoulders, pleased by his question. Though most women would never want to admit they’d performed a man’s job, Laura took pride in the fact that she’d been the timekeeper at Woodfield Brickworks. The men had respected her and marveled at her uncanny ability to recognize each worker by his gait, clothes, habits, or pace. Each year there would be a group of transient laborers as well as the regulars, but it didn’t take long for her to find some unique characteristic in each one.
“No. I could stand up on the hill as each stint ended and make the notations in my notebook. Of course, it helps to be good at fractions when you work as timekeeper, especially when some of the men work longer than a full day’s stint.” She grinned. “They don’t take kindly to being underpaid.”
“Aye, I’m sure they don’t. I was hoping you could furnish me with a list of your workers—those who came back from the war and might be looking for work.”
“I think I could.” They were only a short distance from Woodfield Manor when Laura turned to see an approaching horse and carriage. “I believe that’s your family, Mr. McKay.”
Ewan nodded. “Aye, that it is.” Ewan waved and walked toward the carriage. “Have you and Aunt Maggie come to see the frame house?” He glanced over his shoulder toward Laura. “Miss Woodfield and I just came from there.”
“We’ve left the windows open to air the house because it’s been closed since last spring. If you’re going to stay the night, we won’t send our handyman over.” Laura gestured toward Woodfield Manor. “I can go home without you, Ewan. You should take your aunt and uncle to the house.”
Mrs. Crothers’s haughty look suggested she still bore a degree of animosity, and Laura realized her presence would only make matters worse for Ewan. Woodfield Manor was within sight, and she’d ventured much farther than this on her own. Though Winston would likely upbraid Ewan if he discovered she’d walked the short distance unescorted, she didn’t plan to tell Winston or her mother.
The Brickmaker's Bride Page 6
