Page 55 of Real Earls Break the Rules

“The families may leave for other factories who will hire their children,” Begley said.

“What of the orphans? They don’t have families to protest.”

“The orphanage will undoubtedly take in fewer children, and those it does house will be sent out to work in other mills.”

A muscle ticked at Brandon’s jaw. “Damn. I wanted to help them, not make their lives worse.”

Amelia listened with rising dismay when a sudden solution sprang to mind. “There’s another way,” she said.

Both men turned to her.

“Go on,” Brandon said.

“The children can still work, but you can improve their conditions. Strictly limit their hours, give them frequent breaks, and restrict their duties to only those you approve,” she said.

“That sounds like a reasonable approach,” Begley said.

She glanced at Begley, surprised at the support from the factory manager.

Brandon’s green gaze studied her as if he could reach into her soul and read all her secrets. He seemed not to be mocking her, but rather considering her suggestion.

“If that will help the families without hurting the children, then I agree. But I don’t want the children working in dangerous positions. Make it so,” Brandon instructed Begley.

“Yes, my lord,” Begley said.

“Now let’s go to the looms,” Brandon said.

Amelia recalled Brandon’s account of the difficulties he’d been having with the power looms. Had the problems been resolved? She hoped so. She realized how much he cared about the textile mill. He wasn’t only interested in the profit that would increase the earldom’s coffers, but for the people who worked here. They were no different from the tenants who farmed his land. He may be nobility, but he cared.

They left the first floor and climbed a wooden staircase to the second where a dozen looms were situated. The machines were much larger than what she’d imagined. It was immediately obvious which looms were power looms and which were hand operated. At the hand operated looms workers manually moved the shuttle to weave the thread. The process was painstakingly slow. Only three of the looms were hand operated. The rest were enormous pieces of equipment driven by thick belts that ran near the factory ceiling.

Thread was automatically fed cross-wise between alternating upper and lower threads. Then a harness raised those that had been lower and at the same time dropped those that had been above before a shuttle came back, pushing the threads firmly together. She watched as inches and soon several feet of brand-new cloth emerged. The process was earsplitting, and she wondered how the workers hadn’t lost their hearing.

“How are they powered?” She shouted to be heard above the machines.

“Steam is produced by a coal-burning furnace in the bowels of the factory,” Brandon said.

“It’s amazing how quickly they can weave. I’ve never given cloth much thought other than the bolts I see at the modiste shop,” she said.

He grinned. “It does add a bit of perspective doesn’t it?”

Begley motioned them over to a power loom that sat idle. “This one broke down today.”

Brandon stiffened and a muscle ticked by his eye. “I don’t believe it. I thought all the looms were operational.”

“They have been. This one gave us trouble this morning,” Begley said.

Brandon wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “I’ve been over all the maintenance reports. You’ve hired different workers to make the repairs, correct?”

“I have. The repairs are done correctly, but days later the shuttles break. Only the steam powered looms are affected,” Begley said.

“It makes no sense. They shouldn’t break down so frequently. We need the mill to increase its production. The power looms are capable of producing cloth a hundred times faster than the handlooms. Every loom must produce at full capacity or the factory will never be fully profitable,” Brandon said.

Amelia didn’t like seeing Brandon so upset, and her fingers itched to reach out and smooth his deeply furrowed brow.

“Have the machines watched,” Brandon ordered.

“You suspect foul play?” Begley asked. “There hasn’t been word of luddites for at least four years and not in this part of Hampshire.”