“Well, Rebecca,” he said, after greeting both her and Betsy, “What do you think of your inheritance?”
“It's much bigger than I expected it to be.” They went through the gates, which were closed behind them by the gatekeeper.
“And uglier?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow.
She laughed. It was no use trying to keep anything from Joshua. Despite their differences he seemed to have an innate understanding of her, and of the way she thought.
“And uglier. But I am still proud of it, and I am looking forward to seeing inside.”
“You should prepare yourself. Cotton mills are hot and noisy places. Come and have a look round.”
She was pleased to find that his manner was welcoming, and she felt on safe ground, knowing that for this afternoon at least they could converse easily on the neutral topic of the mill.
They went into the large building, with Betsy following behind.
“This is the first stage of what goes on here,” said Joshua. He took Rebecca into a long, low room and encouraged her to look round. “The bales of cotton have to be opened and the impurities removed, ready for carding. Not long ago, it used to be done by hand. The cotton had to be spread out on a mesh and beaten with long sticks to remove the impurities. I can still remember watching the men and women doing it. But now we use a scutcher.”
“What on earth is a scutcher?” asked Rebecca.
“That,” said Joshua, pointing to a large machine, “is a scutcher.”
The machine looked fearsome to Rebecca. As she watched, she saw how it worked. Men loaded the raw cotton into a spiked drum; the drum spun around very quickly; and a fan blew away the dust and the dirt, the twigs and the impurities, leaving the cotton very clean.
“This is one of the machines the Luddites complain about?” she asked.
“They are usually more interested in breaking looms,” said Joshua, “but in general they are against any kind of machinery that does the job of a man. I can see their point. But the scutcher does the job of purifying the cotton more quickly and more efficiently than a person, and besides, the job itself is dull, tedious and unpleasant.”
“But still, it is a job, and it would pay a salary and allow someone to earn their living,” Rebecca remarked.
“As you say, it would pay a salary and allow someone to earn their living,” said Joshua. “Although, don't forget, people are still needed to load the machine. Still, there are no easy answers to the problems facing the mills and the workers at the moment. But machinery is the future, Rebecca, and we must go forward if we want to survive.”
“What happens to the cotton next?” Rebecca asked, as they moved on from the scutcher.
“Next it's carded, and then turned into a single thread.”
“Mercy me!” said Betsy, as she followed Rebecca and Joshua into an enormously long, low room full of more machinery. “All this, just to make a bit of cotton material to sew a dress!”
Joshua laughed. “By the time you buy your fabric at the drapers it's been through any number of different processes,” he agreed.
They moved onwards and upwards, climbing the stairs to the higher storeys. “Here the cotton is spun,” he said, as they went into another enormously long, low room filled with machinery.
“I never realized it would be so noisy,” said Rebecca, finding it difficult to hear and make herself heard over the clacking of machines.
“You get used to it,” shrugged Joshua.
As if to underline his words, at that moment they walked past a man who was whistling. Although Rebecca found it hard to hear the sound over the noise of the machines, it was clear the man and his fellows were enjoying the tune.
“I'm glad there are no ridiculous fines in our mill,” said Rebecca, remembering that some mills fined men for whistling.
“No. Hill, the manager, is a decent man. He appears to have run the mill very well over the last few months, from what I can see. I haven't had a chance to check everything yet, but so far it all seems to be in good order.” Joshua stood aside to let the two ladies pass back out onto the stairwell in front of him. “Now that you've seen the mill, I thought you might like to take some refreshment in the office.”
“But we haven't seen the weaving,” said Rebecca.
“We don't do that here,” said Joshua. “This is a spinning mill. We sell the yarn to other mill owners who do the weaving and dyeing needed to turn it into a finished piece of cloth.”
“Ah! Very well. In that case, some refreshment would be most welcome.”
She smiled at Joshua, and was relieved and pleased to see him smile in reply: a real smile, not one that involved his mouth without his eyes. It seemed that, despite their disagreements, they could be friends — at least when talking about matters relating to their shared inheritance.
The office was a pleasant room, and was less functional than the rest of the mill. Wood panelling lined the walls and a thick carpet covered the floor. Opposite the door a barred window looked out onto the mill yard.
Rebecca looked at Joshua questioningly.
“After all the trouble with the Luddites over the last few years it seemed sensible to take a few precautions,” he said. “Extra locks were fitted on the doors, and all the windows were barred.”
Rebecca nodded. “It's unfortunate, but it makes sense.”
Joshua went over to a finely-carved mahogany table that was set within reach of the large, heavy mahogany desk. On it was a silver tray and a variety of bottles and decanters.
“Do you always keep ratafia and seed cake on hand?” asked Rebecca with a humorous quirk of the mouth, as she saw that beside the masculine bottles of whiskey and other spirits, more feminine refreshments had been laid.
Joshua smiled. “No. There is seldom any call for them. Ladies are not in the habit of visiting the mill. But I'm glad you've come,” he said, handing her a glass of the fruity ratafia, and kindly handing one to Betsy, who was hot and flustered from looking round the mill.
Rebecca was surprised but pleased. It seemed he had accustomed himself to the idea of her taking an interest in the mill. “I needed to see it for myself,” she nodded.
She took a sip of ratafia and ate a piece of seed cake.
“Is it what you expected?” Joshua asked.
“I'm not quite sure what I expected, but it is better than I'd feared,” she said thoughtfully.
Joshua sat down behind the desk. “Your grandfather knew what it was like to be poor, having been poor himself, and he did not let the desire for profit turn him into a monster. There are none of the worse sort of conditions here. The mill is not kept as hot as some of the cotton mills, and there is better ventilation. Water is always on hand for anyone who is thirsty, and children are not taken on too young.”
“However, I'm concerned about their living conditions,” said Rebecca.
“Strictly speaking, those are not our concern.”
“Nevertheless, I mean to make them my concern,” said Rebecca.
“Good.”
“Good?” She was startled. Again Joshua had surprised her, as he had done earlier in his attitude to the running of the mill.
“Yes. Good. Although they are not strictly speaking our concern I've been worried about it myself for some time, and Jebadiah, too, was concerned. He was starting to look into ways of providing cheap but clean accommodation for our workers but old age and infirmity unfortunately prevented him achieving anything. However, I will — we will,” he corrected himself, adding, “I have not forgotten we are partners, you see — look into it.”
There was an unexpectedly warm smile playing about his lips, and a softness in his eyes that sent a tingle down her spine.
“What is it?” he asked, seeing her shiver. “Are you in a draught?”
“No,” she said. “It's nothing.”
He looked at her curiously, but did not press her, for which she was grateful, because she did not want to reveal the cause of her shiver. And certainly not to him.