Daniel was explaining the process to Lord Harworth and Kitty had to draw closer to hear anything at all. She heard him mention creels and bobbins, tops and roving and headstock, but it was difficult to concentrate with the incessant clatter of the machinery. She watched, fascinated, as the lower part of the mule moved out slowly. The thick yarns were paid out and twisted, then as the mule stopped and returned, the twisted thread was gathered up on the spindles.
She jumped when strong hands gripped her arms.
'You are too close.' Daniel's mouth was close to her ear. He was pulling her back away from the machines. 'Please, stand over here with the others, out of the way.'
Mortified, Kitty stood in one corner with Ann and Lord Harworth, watching the slow process of the spinning being repeated over and over again. She had not intended to draw attention to herself, but now she feared Daniel would think her troublesome. Another black mark against her. She allowed her eyes to shift to Daniel. He was walking between the machines, surveying the room, his keen eyes taking in everything. He stopped occasionally, exchanging a word here, issuing an instruction there. He stood tall, his black-coated figure conspicuous against the lighter, dust-covered clothes of the spinners. He was master here and it showed in the proud line of his bearing. She glanced at Lord Harworth, who was trying to hide a yawn behind his hand. She doubted he could ever be as at home in this noisy, busy place.
They moved on, taking the stairs to another spinning shop then on to the packing rooms. Daniel pointed out the joiners' and mechanics' workshops, and then took them off to see the huge water wheel that provided the power for the machines. His pride in the mill was evident. He was familiar with every process, every machine within his mill. He knew every man's name and it was apparent to Kitty that they esteemed him. There was no servile bowing and scraping when he was near, they were all too busy for that, but they responded with alacrity when he spoke to them, regarding him with respect.
'Well, I think we must have seen everything now,' declared Lord Harworth, taking out his watch. 'Do not forget we were going to discuss the returns I can expect on my investment, Blackwood. The wages you pay, working hours and the like.'
'We will go back to the office for that,' said Daniel. 'James Stoodley is my mill manager and I think it would be useful for him to be present.'
'Very well, then. Lead on, sir!'
'I have instructed that refreshments should be brought to the office,' said Daniel as he took them back across the yard, stopping to allow a string of pack-ponies to pass. He pointed to the large bundles wrapped in oil-cloth strapped to each pony. 'That's the tops, the rough wool that we spin into yarn. It has been sorted and combed by families in the outlying villages, then my agents collect it up and bring it here for spinning.'
'It is my head that is spinning,' replied Ann, throwing a humorous glance up at Daniel. 'I vow I shall be glad to sit down for a little while.'
Kitty, too, was thankful when they reached the manager's office. It was a large panelled room overlooking the yard and it was mercifully cool and quiet. The large desk had been cleared and it now held a tray laden with decanters and glasses and a small plate of macaroons.
'I am afraid I only have wine, ratafia or water to offer you,' said Daniel. 'If I had known you were bringing ladies with you, my lord, I would have arranged for some lemonade to be prepared. I am sorry, too, that my father is not here to meet you. He has taken my mother and sister to Harrogate and will not be back until next week.'
Lord Harworth dismissed his apology with a wave of his hand.
'You know this was not intended as a social visit, Blackwood, but the ladies would insist upon coming!'
'I hope they have found it of interest.'
Daniel's eyes were upon Kitty. She felt obliged to respond.
'Yes, very much, sir, thank you. It was very informative.'
She accepted a glass of water and retired to a seat by the window, glad to have a few moments to think over all she had seen.
'But why worsted, Blackwood?' enquired Lord Harworth. 'Surely cotton is the thing now.'
'Our cotton mills are in Lancashire,' replied Daniel, handing him a glass of wine. 'We have been producing worsted here for generations-it makes sense when we are surrounded by sheep and we have the wool on our doorstep. Besides, I do not like to have all my eggs in one basket.'
'And your people here work only ten hours a day? They could do more, surely.'
Daniel shrugged.
'They could, but tired people do not work so well. And tiredness brings carelessness. That is when accidents happen.' He looked up as a stocky man in a brown coat entered. 'Ah, Stoodley, come in. This is James Stoodley, my mill manager.'
Once the introductions were complete Daniel moved away, leaving Lord Harworth deep in conversation with his manager.
'What were the buildings we passed on the way here?' asked Kitty. 'I thought I glimpsed a house and a garden, too-is that your own house, perhaps?'
'No, Miss Wythenshawe, I live a mile away on the edge of Hestonroyd village. The building you saw today houses the nursery and school. Perhaps, when you have rested a little you might like to see it?'
Kitty hesitated.
'I-I am sure you have other business to attend to, Mr Blackwood.'
'No, I was going to show Lord Harworth the ledgers and explain something of the costs involved in running a mill this size, but Stoodley can do that much better than I, if you ladies would like to walk to the nursery building?'
'I do not think I could walk another yard!' cried Ann, selecting a second macaroon from the plate on the desk. 'You go, Kitty, then you can tell me all about it later. I will wait here with Bertram.'
'Yes, off you go, my dear,' nodded Lord Harworth, sitting down at the desk and pushing the tray aside to make room for a large ledger. 'Stoodley can tell me anything I want to know here.'
Kitty was still undecided. Daniel held out his arm to her.
'Then shall we go, Miss Wythenshawe?'
After the briefest hesitation she placed her fingers on his sleeve and he led her out into the yard again.
'Do you wish me to summon the carriage to take us up the road?'
'No, no, it is not that far to walk, I think?'
She glanced up at him, looking quite enchanting with her dark curls peeping from under the straw bonnet that framed her face. He was struck again by her eyes; their colour reminded him of the vivid green of the moors after a summer rainstorm. It took a moment for him to realise she expected an answer.
'No-um-it will only take us ten minutes.'
He escorted her out of the yard and along the road. He had walked this way many times but rarely had the sun shone so brilliantly, nor had he noticed so many birds singing in the woods, or the merry babble of the stream. Kitty made some remark about the mill and he responded mechanically, but her interest was genuine, the questions she posed were thoughtful and soon he found himself telling her of his plans to expand, to develop and improve the spinning machines and add a loom shop-he even mentioned the idea of installing a steam engine, something he had not even discussed with his father.
'It all sounds very exciting,' she remarked. 'But some believe innovation is dangerous. Are there not risks involved in all these changes?'
'Of course. But there is even more danger in standing still. I hope that by the time the children in the nursery here are grown, not only will we be spinning but we will also have weaving sheds here at Hestonroyd.'
They had reached the path leading down to the square, whitewashed building that housed the nursery and school. Daniel opened the gate for her to enter the neat gardens that surrounded it.
'This is much bigger than I thought,' she told him. 'I had imagined perhaps a small schoolroom … '
'I do not allow very young children in my mills,' Daniel explained. 'The parents leave their children here when they come to work. They are taught to read and write, and help in the garden, where they grow vegetables for their meals.'
'And when they are older?'
'Most of them come to work in the mill.' She did not reply but he knew she was thinking of the noisy, dusty spinning shops. He said, 'It is a harsh world, Miss Wythenshawe. They are free to find work elsewhere if they can. Those who master their letters might find work in the towns, but somehow they must earn their keep. If their parents did not work in my mill then these children would most likely be toiling in the fields now or helping in the home, rather than being schooled. I like to think that this way I am giving them a chance to better themselves.' He glanced down at her. 'You and I were fortunate, Miss Wythenshawe, we have never known poverty.'