“I dunno, Yer Grace,” Fergal sputtered. “Work can’t stop. We have quotas to meet.”
Glenmoor raised a ducal eyebrow, one of those inbred gestures the aristocracy wielded like a weapon. “I’m not asking you to stop the work, Fergal. I’m ordering you to show me my colliery. Perhaps you can begin by explaining quotas.”
Madelyn insisted on going with him, though Brynn had no idea whether she genuinely wanted to know about mining, desired to protect her stepson, or hoped to recognize Gideon Jessop among the coal-darkened faces of the workers. He couldn’t stop her, even when he heard the duke demand to go down into the mine. He lurched forward to try when Fergal led them down the stairs.
Rhys pulled him back. “Let her handle it.”
“We can’t let her go into the pit!”
“It will do His Splendid Dukeness good. Your duchess doesn’t strike me as a fool, and Fergal isn’t about to let them suffer injury on his watch.” Brynn’s brother sounded confident.
They started down the stairs, Brynn’s eyes never leaving Madelyn. “She isn’t my duchess,” he muttered.
“Isn’t she? She could be.” Rhys stepped onto the uneven ground, his knowing eyes boring into Brynn.
“Don’t speak nonsense. Her brother is my friend, and I’m privileged to call her friend also. That’s all there is.”
“I can see how she looks at you Brynn. You’re deluding yourself if you can’t see it, too, especially since I’ve noticed how you look at her.”
“If she were mine to care for, I would have kept her far away from coal mines. Hell, I’d have kept her away from Wales.” He stalked up the hill, away from the colliery, calling over his shoulder, “I need to clear my lungs.”
*
“Where is ColonelMorgan?”I need him. I need…Maddy wasn’t sure what she needed, but she knew his presence made her safe. Deep in her bones, she felt it.
His brother paced alone near their horses when she and Phillip returned from their foray—brief but enough—into the pit. It would be a long time before the face of one boy with huge eyes and sticklike arms left her memory. She’d have estimated his age at five years but feared he was in fact older, merely stunted by life underground.
“You have coal dust on your nose.” Warmth flooded her at the sound, and she spun to face Brynn only to feel her heart stutter at the concern in his eyes, the intensity tugging her toward him. He raised a hand to wipe off the offending spot, rocking her foundations with the electric charge that passed between them. Something else shocked her: his hand trembled as he did it.
“How did you get used to it?” she whispered, her eyes pleading with his.
“I didn’t,” he replied, glancing at his brother.
What the glance meant, she couldn’t say. Rhys didn’t notice, busy as he was fending off a barrage of questions from Phillip.
They mounted to ride on, and the questions kept coming: How do you control explosions? What is this quota business? What is the difference between a hewer and a hurrier?
The two men rode in front of Maddy, who hovered close to Brynn and listened with half an ear, sunk in her own thoughts, until one question slammed her to alertness.
“Isn’t there a more efficient way to extract the coal from the ground than chaining children to corves to drag the baskets out?”
“There are much better methods.” Maddy didn’t miss the bitter tone in Rhys Morgan’s voice. He went on to explain the system of carts on rails some collieries employed. “Of course, there is an initial investment of time and money, and some owners won’t authorize the expense, preferring to leave it as is, boys and women hauling coal.”
Phillip pulled his horse up and stared at Morgan for a moment before nodding sharply and riding on. “Is it normal to hire children so young?”
Phillip’s question echoed Maddy’s own horror. Before Rhys could answer, Brynn shot forward, trotting past them and down the road, as if he couldn’t bear the answer.
“Damned fool,” Rhys muttered, watching his brother’s retreating back. “To answer your question, Your Grace, yes and no. Perhaps it depends on your definition of ‘young.’ Some mines employ boys and girls as young as five as trappers—I have no doubt Shuttleworth would be one of those.” The harsh judgment in his voice heartened Madelyn.
“And Morgan collieries? At what age do you hire them?” she asked.
“I won’t sugarcoat this, Your Grace. Mining is difficult, dangerous, dirty work, but it is work, and families depend on it. Some families won’t settle near a colliery that won’t hire their children. They depend on the wages. At Morgan, we won’t hire them if they are younger than ten, but families lie.”
“What is a trapper?” Phillip asked, likely chewing on Rhys Morgan’s comment about Shuttleworth.
“Ventilation is crucial in mine safety. The trapper is responsible for opening and closing ventilation doors as carts or corves move through the mine. It’s a vital task. We employ older girls or grown women because of the level of responsibility involved. Others hire the very young because the actual labor is slight.”
“But it is done deep in the pit.” Maddy had seen what that meant.
