Page 22 of Foes, Friends and Lovers
Gregory sensed a comfortable rapport between the three ranged before him. “So, most of your wares not used on the estate are sold through the regular markets?”
“Aye,” Henry replied. “And Blackie and I go to Kettering and Northampton on hunt days. We make good money shoeing the hunters that need it.”
“And over the past year,” Caitlin put in, showing she’d been listening carefully, “you—Madge, in particular—have received several lucrative commissions.”
Madge beamed. “I’ve been asked to do a set of wall sconces for the church in Wellingborough. That’ll be a new string to my bow, so to speak.”
Gregory smiled and admitted he was impressed by their industry.
He and Caitlin took their leave, allowing the three to return to their work.
As he and she walked on, he said, “It seems most businesses here have evolved far beyond supplying the estate itself and are drawing customers and, therefore, income from the surrounding communities.”
She nodded. “Timms encouraged that, and when I joined the household, I thought it a good move, too.” She glanced fleetingly at him. “Aside from the substantial income, the involvement with others beyond the estate’s borders creates and fosters goodwill toward the Hall.”
She looked back at the carriage workshop. “All those here readily help out our neighbors, but Jenkins and Henry, especially, help some of the poorer farmers for free.” She looked ahead and added, “Everyone here remembers what it was like to need a helping hand. We were lucky enough to get one, courtesy of Lady Bellamy and Timms.” Her lips quirked upward. “And on top of that, everyone here is proud of their skills. Most will seize any chance to show off.”
He chuckled, but as they walked on, he also felt humbled. He could almost hear Minnie, let alone Timms, in Caitlin’s words. How much of that resonance was due to the influence of Timms and those at Bellamy Hall, and how much was natural, a sensitivity the three women shared?
Pondering that, he followed her around the corner of the forge, to the wide door of the building that, he realized, abutted the back of the smithy.
Caitlin halted with her charge in the open doorway of Vernon’s domain. The glassblowing workshop enclosed the rear of the forge, sharing the massive furnace that glowed in the center of the shop’s rear wall. That wall was built to shoulder height, allowing those on the glassblowing side to easily speak with the blacksmiths.
She spotted Vernon deeper in the shop, discussing something with his apprentice, Terry, and waved to attract the older man’s attention.
Vernon noticed and came forward. “Caitlin, my dear—we’re in desperate need of more of that fine sand.”
She nodded. “I’ll send for it later today, but I doubt it’ll arrive before the end of next week.”
Vernon sighed. “If we have to wait, we’ll wait.” His gaze shifted to her companion. “Well, Cynster, come to see my works?”
Cynster smiled easily. “I’m here for the tour.”
Vernon barked a laugh and waved Gregory in.
Caitlin remained in the doorway and watched as Vernon showed off the delicate vases that were his passion, some in the classical shapes and others more fluid in style. Many were beautifully etched, a technique of which Vernon had become a recognized master.
She felt increasingly confident as she watched Gregory Cynster’s reaction to Vernon’s exposition. As Vernon had made his presentation yesterday, he focused on imparting a broader understanding of the quality of his creations.
That Cynster was impressed by what he saw was evident. As he and Vernon returned to her, the Hall’s new owner appeared sunk in thought. On reaching her, he halted and faced Vernon. “That etching you’ve been doing—have you thought of incorporating heraldic coats of arms to distinguish individual pieces?”
When Vernon frowned, Cynster elaborated, “I mean on commissioned pieces. For instance, I can think of any number of ton ladies who would be interested in your wares, but even more so if you could incorporate their husbands’ coats of arms in the designs. It would make your works not just unique to you but to them as well.”
Vernon’s face lit. “Yes—I see!”
Cynster tipped his head, clearly envisioning such a creation. “You could even use the animals or symbols in the arms as part of the etched design.”
“Indeed! That’s an excellent idea.” Vernon turned to his apprentice. “Terry—did you hear that? Think we’re up to it?”
Terry, a younger man with red hair, grinned widely. “It’d be a challenge, for sure, but we could do it, I’d say.”
Vernon turned back to Cynster. “Can you give me some idea of the coats of arms you have in mind? It would give me something to play with, to work up some sketches and try out some ideas.”
Apparently equally enthused, Cynster nodded. “I’ll check my memory of the arms I have in mind against what I can find in the library—there’s bound to be a book on arms there somewhere. I’ll hunt it out, check the accuracy of my memory, and make up a few sketches to get you started.”
As delighted at the prospect as the three men, Caitlin asked Vernon if he needed anything else ordered in for the project. He asked for several more of the diamond-tipped tools he used, and she promised to put them on the order going out to their supplier that week.
Gregory, meanwhile, was trying to decide which of the many ton ladies he knew should be the recipient of the first of Vernon’s new creations. He was tossing up between his grandmother, Horatia, or the dowager matriarch of the entire family, his great-aunt Helena, then he realized both were Cynsters, and he was entirely confident over sketching the Cynster coat of arms. Uncaring that his enthusiasm was blatantly on show, he turned to Vernon. “I know just which coat of arms you should start with. I’ll do a sketch for you later today.”
