“That’s exactly what she’ll say to her friends when we leave,” Elizabeth whispered back.
Chloe waved Kuni away. “The more outlandish Elizabeth is, the more improbable the story will seem when the Throckmortens try to brag about the visit.”
Kuni resumed her stiff-spined post, as irritated with herself for breaking form as she was with the horrid portrayal of her home country.
A rattle of platters sounded in the hallway. Mrs. Throckmorten swept back into the room, followed by three maids bearing a tea service that could feed an army.
“How can my husband and I be of assistance to Balcovia?” Mrs. Throckmorten asked as she poured the tea.
“Her Royal Highness has decided to turn the tulip fields into cotton mills upon her return,” Chloe explained. “Since there are no Balcovian experts in the industry, the princess wishes to glean insights from the best manufactories in England.”
“Oh.”Mrs. Throckmorten preened. “That does sound like Silas and me. Our cotton mill is the most profitable in the country. We never waste a penny or a minute of time. Our output is second to none.”
“In my country,” Elizabeth said, “only a fool develops his own commercial enterprise, when he could copy someone else’s.”
Kuni gritted her teeth so as not to send the fake princess another glare.
“Anything we can do to help,” Mrs. Throckmorten promised.
“Her Royal Highness was hoping to be given free rein to tour the manufactory,” Chloe said smoothly. “When might we look around?”
“Oh.” Mrs. Throckmorten glanced uncertainly at the clock. “Silas will very much wish to guide you himself. But he won’t return until late, and those lazy wretches—not lazy! Very industrious! The most industrious workers in all of England!—are behind on production, and will work past sundown until they’ve caught up. I’m not certain this is a good time to visit.”
“Can you send your husband a note to ask?”
“Oh no, I’m not to interrupt him while he’s… His meeting is vital to the workings of the mill. Silas should not like to be… I really couldn’t bother him. He’s with a very important associate.”
Chloe and Elizabeth exchanged frowns of disapproval as though to say,More important than royalty?
“I’ll ask Silas when he returns tonight,” Mrs. Throckmorten added quickly. “The workers will be back at their posts before dawn. As soon as Her Royal Highness has broken her fast, Silas will be thrilled to accompany her to the manufactory and answer any questions she might have about our processes or the laborers.”
“Do you pay them?” Elizabeth asked.
“Er…” Mrs. Throckmorten stirred her tea, clearly trying to ascertain the correct answer to the question. “Certainly we pay our employees.”
“In my country, we don’t pay anyone we don’t have to, and the king needn’t answer to anyone.”
Mrs. Throckmorten relaxed. “Well, Silas is very much the master of our little kingdom. As I said, we do pay our employees, but we try to keep as few of them as possible. The rest are either apprentices contracted at minimal wages over many years, or the children of any of the above, who are happy to work for a pittance. I highly recommend the practice. One savessomuch money.”
“It sounds too good to be true,” Chloe said. “Is it legal?”
“In my country,” said Elizabeth, “the king’s will is law.”
“One needn’t be royalty,” Mrs. Throckmorten assured them with a little laugh, “although the way we live, it sometimes feels like it. There was a petition that went round…but the right coins in the right pockets, and that sort of thing goes away.”
“There’s no governance at all?”
“Oh, there’s some sort of law about apprentices—Silas will know the details—but little covers employees, and there are no rules at all about minimum wages. We could staff the entire factory for a halfpenny if we wished to. But we do not. Silas and I are practically…”
“Philanthropists?” Chloe said dryly.
“One must give the right impression to one’s community,” Mrs. Throckmorten replied, with a conspiratorial roll of her eyes. “If I were queen, trust me: not a farthing would be spent on wages. The honor of working for royalty should be more than enough payment.”
This lady! Kuni’s muscles ached from vibrating in place. She longed to smack the self-satisfied smirk from Mrs. Throckmorten’s face.
Chloe smiled. “Her Royal Highness is considering modeling the inaugural Balcovian cotton mill after one of England’s own. With your permission, might her court portraitist also make a few sketches here and there to show the royal family how a manufactory ought to be managed?”
“Oh!” Mrs. Throckmorten set down her tea. “Of course. Anything you need. Her Highness’s servants can sketch whatever the princess pleases. It would be an honor to know the Balcovian king modeled his mills after ours.”
