The Rival Potters

by Rona Randall

  Skilfully, she avoided him. ‘Come,’ she said, ‘I’ll take you to Olivia…’

  ‘I would prefer Amelia. And I’ll pay in advance to ensure that the sundial is mine. And furthermore I’ll tell her that you want me and no one else to have it. That is the truth, I hope.’

  ‘Since I know of no one else who wants it, the answer, I suppose, can only be yes.’

  Her voice was light and that pleased him because she plainly had to make it so.

  Chapter 13

  ‘Why do you visit that silly pottery so much, dear boy?’

  ‘Perhaps it isn’t so silly as we imagined, Mama. It’s small, but efficiently run. Amelia appears to be coping well and, although there’s no love lost between Olivia and myself, I also have to admit she is skilled. And since you are a woman yourself, isn’t it illogical to call it “silly” because it’s run by women?’

  Agatha dodged that. Chewing contentedly on pickled pigeon stuffed with hard egg yolks, marrow, sweet herbs and spices, she insisted that he was being very forgiving, though how he could be, she couldn’t imagine…

  ‘…nor how you can wish them well, even though one is my sister and your aunt, and the other my niece and your cousin. I can only think that blood is thicker than water after all, but even so I consider you are being most charitable. Who else would hold out the hand of friendship to people who turned their backs? That is what they did to you, the pair of them. And worse. Setting up in opposition to their own kin, indeed! Yet you visit there often, Max tells me.’

  ‘And how does he know? From that son of his, I suppose. He is forever hovering about the place, currying favour.’

  ‘Miguel — currying favour? I’ve never known him to do that. Quite the reverse. Sometimes I think he is too retiring by half. Much too shy. I have told him so very often.’

  ‘Have you, indeed? You sound fond of him.’

  ‘He has been very kind to me over the years.’

  ‘Currying favour with you too? But as for my visiting the Ashburton Pottery, why shouldn’t I? You once hinted that I had made a mistake in persuading Amelia to leave Drayton’s. Have you forgotten that? And aren’t you attaching too much importance to this new venture? With so much opposition in the potteries, how can the pair of them possibly succeed?’

  Agatha pursed her lips, her tier of chins settling in folds beneath, and said reflectively, ‘We-ell…perhaps you’re right…but with those two men behind them, two influential men let me remind you, their chances of success may be greater than you think. Can you afford to encourage them with friendly visits?’

  ‘My dear mother, friendly visits are a far better way of finding out what is going on, than relying on rumour or gossip.’

  At that, she beamed.

  ‘My clever boy! So that’s what you’re up to! And there was I, fearing your generous nature was likely to rebound onto you, biting the hand of friendship.’

  Sometimes his mother’s metaphors were singularly inept, but in this instance Lionel knew what she meant. But how tedious she was! And what a twittering fool! And he couldn’t take his leave for at least another hour…

  Stifling a yawn he said, ‘You look tired, Mama.’

  ‘Dear boy, I am not in the least tired. Not with you for company. Do have more of this excellent Carrier Sauce, so delicious with pigeon despite the conventional idea that it is only suitable for mutton — dear Pierre can prove the best cooks in the world to be wrong! And that’s right, help yourself to another glass of Burgundy. And you’ll be pleased to hear that Pierre will be sending up some of his splendid Souster because he remembers how much you loved it as a child —’

  ‘I am not a child now,’ he interrupted impatiently. He was glad she had dismissed the hovering servants and that the Burgundy had been left close at hand. In getting through a wearisome evening it helped considerably. And when at last he made his escape he would head straight back to Drayton’s and let himself in with his master key, leaving the gates unlocked so that Abby could do the same shortly after.

  Her agreement had been somewhat reluctant because she disliked going down to the cellar. ‘Why can’t it be somewhere else?’ she had demanded fretfully. ‘Why not same as afore? Or why can’t I come to Carrion ’Ouse when everybody’s asleep? You’ve let me, once or twice.’

  ‘Only as a temporary measure, until I could make these better arrangements.’

  ‘I don’t like ’em,’ she had answered mutinously, to which he had replied that what she liked or disliked concerned him not in the least. She could accept his conditions, or not at all. At that, she had begun to snivel, complaining that these days she wasn’t a bit happy and that nothing was turning out the way she had expected and even her mam wasn’t the same to her any more. ‘I can’t think why. I ain’t done nuffink but what she wanted me t’do.’

  It was all becoming rather tiresome. Abby herself was becoming tiresome. And he hoped she wasn’t going to drag in that dreadful mother of hers. If so, he would send the pair of them packing.

  But he had not finished with Abby yet; he still wanted her, still enjoyed her, so it wasn’t yet time to end the affair. Nor did he regret the installation of that secret room, which would no doubt prove to be useful in other ways if and when it ceased to serve its current purpose. Meanwhile, it was comfortably furnished and very handy, and why silly little Abby had taken such a dislike to a room which was better than anything she had known in her life, was beyond his comprehension.

  Ah well, he thought as he refilled his glass, she would get over it. Meanwhile, his thoughts turned to Deborah, as they were doing frequently of late. It might please his mother to learn the real object of his visits to the Ashburton Pottery since she was forever harping on the question of his marriage. Either she was lecturing him on his duty to beget a son and heir, or saying simperingly that she yearned to be a grandmother with children clustering at her knees. Dear God, what a bore she was!

  At last the meal was over and he could conveniently take his leave. When his mother embraced him it was like being enfolded in a mound of billowing bolsters, but he endured it. The dribbles of gravy and sauce on the cascading lace of her bodice heightened the illusion that she had been dining in bed, but he tolerated that too. Even when her plump, beringed hands patted and mauled him, he made no attempt to evade her. If Aunt Amelia could have seen him now, never again would she have been able to accuse him of not being a dutiful son.

  The last test of endurance came when Agatha ran her hands over his shoulders and sleeves, down the front of his elegant brocade coat and even inside the wide, buttoned-back cuffs to see if his valet was caring for his clothes properly.

  At last she said grudgingly, ‘We-ell, he’s improving, I’ll grant him that. Those buttons are sewn on better than the last time I examined them, but only a mother can really care for her son’s wardrobe. I will come to Carrion House one day soon to check on the rest of your garments.’

  ‘My dear mother, you do that so regularly that you scarcely leave the man anything else to do!’ And it annoys him as much as it annoys me, he wanted to add, but commendably refrained. He was being remarkably stoic and courteous tonight.

  On an impulse he decided to extend his courtesy by visiting his uncle before leaving. It could be interesting to learn just how much Maxwell Freeman did know about his visits to Ashburton and how and why Miguel had commented on them. Secretly, he was rather pleased about that. If the youth was jealous, so much the better.

  Leaving the West Wing and entering the main part of the house, he came face to face with Miguel descending the impressive staircase which, as a boy, he himself had found awesome in its grandeur. He had never tired of gazing at it and of secretly ascending and descending, imagining himself as lord of the manor, when no one was about. In this way he had indulged one of his strongest fancies. Another had been to picture himself standing at the head of this staircase, receiving guests; Master of Tremain, monarch, ruler, king absolute.

  It was a dream he had fully expected
to be fulfilled. Instead, he thought bitterly as he halted at the sight of Miguel, that enviable role would be inherited by this half-breed, to whom it would mean nothing. What sort of a creature was he to be content with the life he now led, alone in this vast place with a couple of ageing people? Dear God, what a waste it was that Tremain should come to such as he, when all that had come his own way was the Carrion bequest and a family business that was proving to be nothing but an anxiety!

  Managing an affable smile, Lionel said, ‘I was on my way to see your father. I thought a visit might cheer him.’

  ‘He has just retired. But it was good of you to think of it.’

  ‘Pray remember me to him.’

  ‘I will do so, most certainly.’

  The ensuing pause was awkward, both trying to think of something to say.

  ‘Then I’ll take my leave…’

  Miguel accompanied him. The youth was always so damned polite…

  Lionel said, ‘I take it you’ve been to Ashburton today?’

  ‘To the pottery — yes.’

  ‘You go there frequently?’

  ‘As often as I may. I don’t like to intrude.’

  ‘My dear fellow, don’t be so damned humble! That’s always a mistake.’

  ‘It’s also a mistake to interpret reticence as humility,’ Miguel retorted sharply.

  That startled Lionel, who had never credited Miguel with much spirit. It also vexed him. He wanted to retaliate, but could think of nothing suitable, so he said smoothly, ‘You saw Deborah, I take it?’

  ‘Briefly. She was hard at work.’

  They had reached the main entrance. Without summoning a footman, Miguel lifted the heavy iron latch and opened the door. Lionel ignored it and said, ‘I expect she was working on another sundial. The sale of her first one must have been encouraging.’

  To his satisfaction, it was Miguel’s turn to be startled.

  ‘The sale —?’

  ‘Haven’t you heard? Did no one tell you, not even Deborah although she herself sold it?’

  ‘To whom?’ It was plainly an effort to ask.

  ‘To me. Only a few days ago. She was delighted to let me have it. I too am pleased. It will look well above the door of Carrion House.’

  *

  ‘I don’t like it, Meg. I don’t like any of it.’

  ‘From the sound o’things, I don’t neether.’

  And that was putting it mildly, she thought. If what Dave said was true, she hated everything about it. The awful thing was that she felt no surprise; only a terrible sadness, a despair.

  ‘You be sure that cellar be where they meet?’

  ‘I’ll wager a week’s wages on it. Why else has it been done up the way it has? Real carpet, and stacks of cushions…’

  ‘In a cellar?’

  ‘Aye. He explained that the carpet is to safeguard against breakages. The best porcelain and china is to be stored there — leastways, so he sez — an’ some might be dropped by accident. But that don’t explain the cushions. He don’t know I’ve seen ’em, o’course. I’m keeping mum about that. But the door were open a crack when I went by one night. I’d stayed on purpose, I were that determined to take a look down there when nobbody were around. It looked as if it’d bin left ajar on purpose, so’s summun could get in. Through the crack I saw all them cushions piled on the floor. Like a bed. I got outa that cellar quick, not just because I weren’t supposed t’be there but because there’d’ve been hell t’pay if I’d been caught. It were after hours an’ I’d no cause t’be down there — but there were another reason. If Abby were heading that way, I didn’t want to meet her — didn’t want her to see me or it’d be the end between us. Such as there be to end,’ he finished unhappily.

  ‘So ye went there ’cos ye guessed wot were going on…’

  ‘No. For summat else. It were after that heavy rainfall awhile back an’ I were worrit. I remembered Master Kendall’s warning about the risk of seepage from canal an’ Master Martin deciding not to go ahead for that reason. It would’ve had to be extra fortified, an’ a long job an’ a costly one that would’ve been — but this cellar’s been dug out an’ constructed in no time at all, an’ I tell ye straight, Meg, I don’t like it. The place ain’t safe. If Abby does go down there —’

  ‘She won’t, lad. She’s got more sense than to head for trouble.’

  ‘She’s taken leave of ’er senses. She’s besotted. Why else do she linger after everyone be gone? More’n more folk are noticing that, ’specially the turners. Things in that shed ain’t wot they useter be when it were yourn. Them women quarrel an’ wrangle one with t’other —’

  ‘My girls? There were now’t o’ that in my day, so why now?’

  Dave rubbed a tired hand across tired eyes and Meg’s heart went out to him. This was the first time they had met since he had declared his intention to continue at Drayton’s for as long as Abby remained there. And all he had reaped for his pains was anxiety.

  ‘I’d like t’shake some sense into the girl,’ Meg declared hotly.

  ‘’T’wouldn’t do no good. She be stubborn as a mule, these days. But for all that, she ain’t happy. I can tell. We’ve gotta do summat, Meg. You’n me.’

  ‘Sounds like ye’ve tried, lad — an’ got nowhere.’

  ‘Aye. That be true. I just thought mebbe if we put our heads t’gether we might come up with an answer. Remember how you wanted her to go with you to Ashburton?’

  ‘That can’t be done by snapping our fingers and saying “Hey, presto!” The first thing is t’get Abby away from that ma of ’ers, because so long as she’s under Kate’s influence she’ll follow her lead…’

  ‘I’m afeared that once started she’ll continue that way even if the woman does go out of her life. Left alone in that hovel, the coast’d be clear for Abby t’do wot she liked.’

  ‘Seems I’ve got more faith in ’er than you, Dave lad.’ Meg gave him a friendly shake. ‘Ye wouldn’t talk that way if ye weren’t unhappy. I’ll grant that left on ’er own Abby could be fair game for any man, but she’s that right now. But she don’t have to stay that way. Without her ma, I think she’d willingly clear outa that dump, and that’d be where I come in. Ye know I’ve allus wanted Abby to live along o’me ’til such time as she be wed, an’ the new cottage at Ashburton would do us a treat. And ’tis almost ready. “Only one more thing needed,” Master Kendall told me t’other day, ’an’ wot d’ye think it be, Dave? A real cooking range, oven an’ spit an’ all! So now I can do summat, now I can act.’

  When Dave asked what she planned to do, Meg gave him her wide, warm smile and said, ‘Wait’n see, Dave. Wait’n see…’

  *

  ‘Good day to ye, Kate Walker.’

  ‘Well, if it ain’t ’igh’n mighty Meg Tinsley! Ain’t ye too good for t’Red Lion since ye turned respectable?’

  ‘I still enjoys a noggin now’n then, Kate. An’ Joss Barlow’s a good friend.’

  ‘But not that kind, eh? Got none o’them now, ’ave ye?’

  ‘Not since I were a wench.’ Meg added proudly, ‘Not since I wed. After Frank Tinsley there were no other. After such as he, there never could be.’

  ‘So wot are ye doin’ in t’Red Lion?’

  ‘I were passing through Burslem an’ thought I’d drop in an’ see old friends.’

  ‘That don’t include me and well I knows it, tho’ ye’ve no cause to go lookin’ down on the likes o’me. I remember well wot ye were once upon a time.’

  ‘I remember too,’ Meg answered serenely. ‘That’s why I can count me blessings now.’

  After that there seemed to be nothing more to say. Kate eyed Meg indifferently and Meg eyed Kate assessingly, thinking how much worse the woman looked. In a year or two she would be even more raddled and gin-soaked. Vindictive. Horrible.

  ‘An’ how be you faring these days, Kate?’

  ‘Grand. Can’t ye tell?’

  Meg studied the tawdry finery. Becoming confidential, she said, �
�Aye — anyone can see you be doing fine, but ye deserve much more than a place like Burslem can offer. Ye be wasted here. I’ve allus thought that. I’m surprised ye’ve never packed up an’ headed for the big cities, like Liverpool with its ship-owners, or Leicester, full of wealthy industrialists or Nottingham. Now there’s a place! Lace factories.’

  ‘Factories! Me? I ain’t workin’ in no bloody factory!’

  ‘Who’s suggesting it? C’m on, Kate, ye know wot I’m getting at. Men are men wherever they be, an’ the rich ain’t no different from the rest. I spent enough years in Liverpool to see how the rich ship-owners lived and how they amused themselves. It’ll be the same in Leicester or Nottingham or Birmingham. Or how about Lunnon?’

  ‘Too much competition there. Actresses an’ the like.’ Kate gave a knowing wink. ‘D’ye think I’ve never ’ad a chance t’go there? Or other places too?’

  ‘So why don’t ye?’

  ‘Desert me dear daughter? Me? Never! Abby be the apple o’me eye. I’ve allus done me duty as a mother. I could’ve gone to any big city in England an’ done well for me’self, but not with a brat t’look after.’

  ‘She’s not a child any more, Kate. She’d be no handicap to ye now. Leastways, not in the same way…’

  ‘Wot d’ye mean?’

  ‘I mean she don’t drag at your ’eels no more. No burden to ye. No responsibility. So ye be free, Kate Walker. Free to go where ye like an’ live where ye like — an’ prosper. But with a daughter to rival ye, an’ one as be sure to cut thee out —’

  Startled, Kate demanded even more sharply, ‘Wot d’ye mean?’

  ‘Wot I sez. Abby’s a young woman now. A woman afore ’er time, some might think. Taken a good look at ’er lately?’

  ‘‘Course I ’ave! An’ mighty proud of ’er I be. Doing well, is my Abby. She won’t stay in that mucky trade much longer.’ Kate finished proudly, ‘She’s found favour already, an’ mighty high favour let me tell ye!’

  ‘That’s what I mean. Soon she’ll be the one every man’ll be after. Not thee.’