Page 44 of Everything But the Earl
“I intend to build a kiln,” Grace said to Mrs. Davies, who was staring at her strangely.
“Oh, I wondered. It looks like only enough brick for a fireplace.”
“It will be a bit like an outdoor oven made of brick, where I might bake the clay after I finish molding it.”
“I would love to learn how to make pots,” said Mrs. Davies said a bit wistfully. “I had an artistic inclination as a girl, but then I married my husband and had children. But now that my children are a bit older, I’m interested in pursuing that again.”
“Once I have everything set up, I will invite you over for a lesson. I haven’t had many students, but I believe I could teach you how to do it.”
“Yes? I would adore that.” Mrs. Davies smiled. “You must be newly married. I hadn’t even heard the earl had found a wife.”
“Yes, the wedding was about six weeks ago.”
“I’ve just mentioned, I am married as well. Local boy, of course, not nearly someone so fancy as the earl. But the earl’s family… They’ve been a part of this town for generations. My husband is his cousin, technically, if you follow a few circuitous branches on the family tree.”
“Is he? So we are distantly related by marriage, then.”
“Family, yes.” Mrs. Davies smiled. “Mostly I keep house and helpmy husband with our sheep. But my husband is also a blacksmith and I have always envied a bit that he has time to pursue a craft. I can barely sew, not able to do much more than mend my children’s clothing. But I like to paint, and pots might be fun.”
“I make all sorts of things, but we can start with something practical. I’ll teach you to use the wheel to make bowls or plates.”
“I would like that. Just send word to number twenty-seven on this road. Maybe a half mile that way.” Mrs. Davies pointed. “I must say, it was lovely to meet you, my lady.”
“The feeling is mutual. My husband has gone back to London for business, and I should very much like to have friends here while he is absent.”
“Then let me give you your first language lesson. Here in North Wales,sut maeis a standard greeting. It basically meansHow goes it?So when you meet a Welshman on the street, that is what you say. Some of my neighbors are a bit precious about the language, so it helps to know a few phrases.”
“Thank you for the tip. You’ve been extremely kind.”
“Oh, no bother at all. If you show me how to make a dish, I’ll consider it a good deal.”
Grace smiled. “Agreed.”
Chapter Eleven
Dear Grace,
Thank you for your last letter. You asked what I am working on. My friends inform me my bill to improve the roads in London’s too dull to bother writing to you about, so I will tell you that I am also currently working on a bill that will allow for the forward march of industry without depriving workers of their livelihoods. I believe it may come to pass that soon machines will do the work of many people, but until that happens, perhaps we can help the workers. There is resistance to this idea in Parliament, but the case in favor is that if we allow men to make an honest living, they are less likely to riot. You may have read in the newspapers that there has been armed resistance to the proliferation of these machines to make textiles and other products, but one thing I believe some of my fellow Lords have yet to fully appreciate is that the reason these men are resisting is that the machines are taking their jobs from them. I do not wish to stand in the way of industrial progress, as these machines can make fabric much faster than a weaver can, but at the same time, I pity the workers who have been replaced…
Owen’s latest letter, while not overtly emotional or intimate, did reveal the inner workings of his brain in a way he might not have even realized he’d shared. Grace particularly liked this letter and tucked it away in the trunk where she’d been storing all of his correspondence. There was an inherent kindness in his work in Parliament, like he genuinely wanted to make British society better, betraying that hewanted to help people rather than—as Grace was certain was true for most members of the House of Lords—lining his own pockets.
Usually, his letters were just as to-the-point as hers had been, but often he finished his letter with a bit of sentimentality. In this letter, he said:
Although I am keeping busy, I find that I am missing you.
Not exactly a love confession, but Grace treasured it. He missed her! Hopefully that meant he was not pursuing affairs across London—Grace’s heart would shatter if that turned out to be the case—and that he was being honest. It was hard to know. Grace felt like she knew her husband, but they’d barely spent a month together before he left for London again.
But perhaps she should set a model. Rather than simply telling him what work she had completed in his absence, she should tell him more about how she felt. That she wasthriving. She found herself well-suited to the work of running an estate. She was good enough at sums to do some simple bookkeeping, and she like having several large projects to oversee. In addition to the Williams family, Owen had staff that saw to his other business ventures. Those businesses mostly ran themselves, but every now and then they needed someone to make a quick decision. There was no time to write to Owen in London and wait for a reply. Owen’s advisers were good men who gave solid advice, so she found that if she listened to them and applied her own logic, she was able to answer those questions.
She’d had no idea she could manage any of it. That she seemed to be good at the work came at something of a surprise. That Owen’s staff was so competent gave her time to pursue her own interests as well, so she was getting the pottery studio up and running, and taking the liberty of redecorating the parts of Owen’s house she didn’t care for, making it more her home.
In short, she had everything she’d wanted when she left herparents’ home. Except she did not have her husband, and it often took as long as a week for her letters to reach him and for him to write back. She was surprised by how much she missed him, although the reminders of him everywhere in the house certainly contributed to that.
She couldn’t dwell on it, though, because Penelope was due at any moment.
Indeed, she arrived within the hour, with her old friends Elizabeth and Helena Hastings and a small staff in tow. Naturally, unmarried ladies couldn’t travel great distances unchaperoned, so the Hastings matriarch—Lady Lenora Hastings—and a small cadre of footmen had come along as well. They pulled into the drive, in front of Caer Newydd in a caravan of three carriages.
Goodness.
