Thunder and Roses by Mary Jo Putney Read Free Book Online Page A

far the largest landowner in the valley, yet you have done nothing to encourage more scientific agriculture. Your tenants still use the same methods that were common in Tudor times. Improved breeding and tillage would increase the wealth of the valley and create more jobs.” She lifted a sheaf of papers and handed them to Nicholas. “I’m no expert, but I’ve studied reports on scientific agriculture in England and noted techniques that should be effective here.”
     
    “There is something on which you are not an expert?” After a brief glance at the papers, he set them on the table. “Bringing local farming out of the Middle Ages should keep me busy for the next decade or two, but in case I have some spare time, do you have any other requests?”
     
    Ignoring his sarcasm, she said, “There is one major thing you could do which would have effects almost immediately.”
     
    “Oh? Carry on, Miss Morgan, I am panting to hear.”
     
    “Perhaps you don’t remember, but you own an old slate quarry at the far end of the valley. Though it hasn’t been used in years, there’s no reason why it couldn’t be worked again.” She leaned forward, voice intense. “Not only would development be profitable for you, but it would provide jobs for those who are now out of work. The Penrhyn quarries in Flintshire employ over five hundred men, and the work is less dangerous than mining.   In addition, Madoc would have to improve conditions at the pit or lose his best workers.”
     
    “I remember the quarry,” Nicholas said thoughtfully. “It has probably roofed every building in the valley, but is there enough slate there for worthwhile commercial development?”
     
    “Indications are that the field is very large, and the quality has always been excellent.”
     
    “`Indications,`” he repeated. “I suppose that means you’ve been trespassing on my land while evaluating my resources?”
     
    She shifted uncomfortably. “The quarry is near a public right of way.”
     
    “As long as you didn’t frighten the sheep.” His brows drew together reflectively. “The problem with slate is the cost of getting the material to where it’s needed. A tramway would have to be built down to the river so the slate could go to the coast by barge.”
     
    “What is a tramway?”
     
    “It’s a kind of road, made up of a pair of wooden or iron tracks. Horses pull wagons along the rails. They’re expensive to build, which is probably why the coal pit doesn’t have one, but they make it possible to move heavy materials much faster than using regular roads.” He pondered again. “At the coast, a new quay might have to be built as well.”
     
    “But once the quay was built, you could ship the slate anywhere—across the channel to Bristol, north to Merseyside. You might also be able to recoup some of your costs by charging the coal pit for using the quay—their shipping facilities are inadequate. It could be very profitable for you, Lord Aberdare.”
     
    “Stop using profit as bait,” he said irritably. “The topic doesn’t much interest me.” He drummed his fingers on the mahogany table. “Do you have any idea how many thousands of pounds would be required to develop the quarry?”
     
    “Not really,” she admitted. “I don’t have a grasp of money on that scale. Is it more than you can afford?”
     
    “I didn’t say that.” He got to his feet. “Do you ride?”
     
    She blinked in confusion at the change of topic. “Some, but not lately—after my father died, I sold his horse. It was a placid old thing, so my riding experience is limited.”
     
    “There should be something in the stables that will suit you. Meet me there in fifteen minutes in your riding habit. We’re going to take a look at this quarry of yours.” He turned on his heel and swept out of the room.
     
    Clare was left feeling dazed, as if a thunderstorm had just rolled over her. But at least he was taking her ideas