The Potter's Lady Read Online Free Page B

Rylan’s chance meeting with Ewan and Rose McKay.
    As Rylan and the McKays stepped inside, Mr. Bancock forced a smile. Rylan made brief introductions, and his employer extended his hand to Mr. McKay and nodded at Rose. “Pleased to meet both of you and welcome to Bancock Pottery Works.”
    Rylan sighed with relief when Mr. McKay explained to Mr. Bancock how they’d met in the hotel lobby. “A fortunate coincidence that we would walk up just as young Mr. Campbell arrived.”
    “I’m pleased he was able to escort you.” Mr. Bancock glanced toward the street. “This morning’s rain left us with a great deal of mud.” With his brows arched ever so slightly, Mr. Bancock directed a forgiving look at Rylan before returning his attention to Mr. McKay and his sister. “Would the two of you like to begin by reviewing the ledgers and contracts before touring the pottery, or is the opposite your preference?”
    Ewan turned to his sister. “What do you say, Rose? A tour of the pottery or an examination of the books?”
    Both Rylan and Mr. Bancock followed suit and directed their attention to the young woman. Rylan was pleased to see the sparkle of excitement in her eyes. He was certain they perfectly matched the deep blue glaze of their finest pottery.
    Yet her excitement pleased him for other reasons, as well. He remembered his first visit to the pottery so many years ago when he’d been hired to help one of the turners, the journeymen who turned the cups and bowls on a horizontal lathe in the clay shop. He had been struck with unexpected exhilaration on that day.
    Almost a third of the workers in the clay shop had been journeymen, but the rest were helpers—mostly young boys or women, anyone unskilled and willing to work for the meager wages paid by the journeymen so they could complete more pieces in a day. Many of the men had their wives and children work for them so they didn’t have to pay a non-family member wages.
    The turner, Joseph Priety, had hired and trained Rylan as a handler. The training had been brief, but once he’d gotten the knack of things, he’d been able to attach handles to hundreds of cups each day. Mr. Priety paid him forty cents a day, a sum Rylan had thought quite magnificent until he learned the other handlers were being paid ten cents more each day. That had been his first lesson in business, and he’d been learning ever since.
    Rose looked up at her brother and grinned. “I’d prefer to see the pottery rather than the books, of course.” She glanced at Mr. Bancock. “I just completed my education at the Philadelphia School of Design for Women, and I had the opportunity to visit two potteries during my studies. I’m eager to see if your pottery is much the same.” She let her gaze drift toward Rylan. “I believe those potteries were a bit larger than yours, Mr. Bancock.”
    The owner nodded. “What is most important is not the size of the business but the quality of the product.”
    “That’s true, Mr. Bancock.” She flashed him a smile. “I hope your artists create some of the same gilding and lovely hand-painted designs we examined in those potteries.”
    He motioned toward the door. “Follow me. We should begin at the slip house, since that is where the process begins.”
    Mr. McKay matched the older man’s stride, leaving Rose to walk alongside Rylan. He hadn’t expected her to come along to the slip house, but she appeared determined to be included. Snatches of Mr. McKay’s conversation drifted on the afternoon breeze, and it didn’t take long before Rylan realized Mr. McKay was explaining the reason for their delay.
    When they stepped inside the slip house, Mr. Bancock waved to the supervisor. “These folks are here to tour the pottery. Why don’t you explain the process?” Mr. Bancock stepped closer to Rylan while the supervisor detailed how the dry clay, flint, feldspar, and water were mixed together in a blunger to form liquid clay known as slip.
    Rylan’s