A Human Resource Organization Development Specialist

Leaders are confident individuals who have assertiveness and integrity. They are expected to set an example for others and assist in problem solving. My career goal is to be a human resource organizational development specialist, a leader within an organization. Human resource specialist work with employees and managers and help with continuous learning; therefore they need to be able to lead and inspire others to move toward change. This career is a very meaningful profession because these specialists can transform themselves, depending on the situations, to play various roles within an organization. They sometimes work as sole leaders, while other times work as cooperative leaders. As sole leaders, they actively assist individuals and groups to continuously improve by defining performance goals and providing specialized training and as cooperative leaders they work with executive managers on planning the company’s future plans. 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The Lost Duke of Wyndham Chapter Fifteen Free Essays

string(102) " man who would admit to being a poor reader of maps,† she said once she regained her composure\." In his wanderings at Belgrave, Jack had, during a rainstorm that had trapped him indoors, managed to locate a collection of books devoted to art. It had not been easy; the castle boasted two separate libraries, and each must have held five hundred volumes at least. But art books, he noticed, tended to be oversized, so he was able to make his task a bit easier by searching out the sections with the tallest spines. We will write a custom essay sample on The Lost Duke of Wyndham Chapter Fifteen or any similar topic only for you Order Now He pulled out these books, perused them and, after some trial and error, found what he was looking for. He didn’t particularly wish to remain in the library, however; he’d always found it oppressive to be surrounded by so many books. So he’d gathered up those that looked the most interesting and took them to his new favorite room – the cream and gold drawing room at the back of the castle. Grace’s room. He would never be able to think of it as anything else. It was to this room that he retreated after his embarrassing encounter with Grace in the great hall. He did not like to lose his temper; to be more precise, he loathed it. He sat there for hours, tucked into place at a reading table, occasionally rising to stretch his legs. He was on his final volume – a study of the French rococo style – when a footman walked by the open doorway, stopped, then backed up. Jack looked back at him, arching a brow in question, but the young man said nothing, just scurried off in the direction from which he’d come. Two minutes later Jack was rewarded for his patience by the sound of feminine footsteps in the hall. Grace’s footsteps. He pretended to be engrossed in his book. â€Å"Oh, you’re reading,† she said, sounding surprised. He carefully turned a page. â€Å"I do so on occasion.† He could practically hear her roll her eyes as she walked in. â€Å"I’ve been looking everywhere for you.† He looked up and affixed a smile. â€Å"And yet here I am.† She stood hesitantly in the doorway, her hands clasped tightly before her. She was nervous, he realized. He hated himself for that. He tilted his head in invitation, motioning to the chair beside him. â€Å"What are you reading?† she asked, coming into the room. He turned his book toward the empty seat at the table. â€Å"Have a look.† She did not sit immediately. Rather, she rested her hands at the edge of the table and leaned forward, peering down at the open pages. â€Å"Art,† she said. â€Å"My second favorite subject.† She gave him a shrewd look. â€Å"You wish for me to ask you what your favorite is.† â€Å"Am I so obvious?† â€Å"You are only obvious when you wish to be.† He held up his hands in mock dismay. â€Å"And alas, it still doesn’t work. You have not asked me what my favorite subject is.† â€Å"Because,† she returned, sitting down, â€Å"I am quite certain the answer will contain something highly inappropriate.† He placed one hand on his chest, the dramatic gesture somehow restoring his equilibrium. It was easier to play the jester. No one expected as much from fools. â€Å"I am wounded,† he proclaimed. â€Å"I promise you, I was not going to say that my favorite subject was seduction, or the art of a kiss, or the proper way to remove a lady’s glove, or for that matter the proper way to remove – â€Å" â€Å"Stop!† â€Å"I was going to say,† he said, trying to sound beleaguered and henpecked, â€Å"that my favorite subject of late is you.† Their eyes met, but only for a moment. Something unnerved her, and she quickly shifted her gaze to her lap. He watched her, mesmerized by the play of emotions on her face, by the way her hands, which were clasped together atop the table, tensed and moved. â€Å"I don’t like this painting,† she said quite suddenly. He had to look back at the book to see which image she referred to. It was a man and a woman out of doors, sitting on the grass. The woman’s back was to the canvas, and she seemed to be pushing the man away. Jack was not familiar with it, but he thought he recognized the style. â€Å"The Boucher?† â€Å"Ye – no,† she said, blinking in confusion as she leaned forward. She looked down. â€Å"Jean-Antoine Watteau,† she read. â€Å"The Faux Pas.† He looked down more closely. â€Å"Sorry,† he said, his voice light. â€Å"I’d only just turned the page. I think it does look rather like a Boucher, though. Don’t you?† She gave a tiny shrug. â€Å"I’m not familiar enough with either artist to say. I did not study painting – or painters – very much as a child. My parents weren’t overly interested in art.† â€Å"How is that possible?† She smiled at that, the sort of smile that was almost a laugh. â€Å"It wasn’t so much that they weren’t interested, just that they were interested in other things more. I think that above all they would have loved to travel. Both of them adored maps and atlases of all sorts.† Jack felt his eyes roll up at that. â€Å"I hate maps.† â€Å"Really?† She sounded stunned, and maybe just a little bit delighted by his admission. â€Å"Why?† He told her the truth. â€Å"I haven’t the talent for reading them.† â€Å"And you, a highwayman.† â€Å"What has that to do with it?† â€Å"Don’t you need to know where you’re going?† â€Å"Not nearly so much as I need to know where I’ve been.† She looked perplexed at that, so he added, â€Å"There are certain areas of the country – possibly all of Kent, to be honest – it is best that I avoid.† â€Å"This is one of those moments,† she said, blinking several times in rapid succession, â€Å"when I am not quite certain if you are being serious.† â€Å"Oh, very much so,† he told her, almost cheerfully. â€Å"Except perhaps for the bit about Kent.† She looked at him in incomprehension. â€Å"I might have been understating.† â€Å"Understating,† she echoed. â€Å"There’s a reason I avoid the South.† â€Å"Good heavens.† It was such a ladylike utterance. He almost laughed. â€Å"I don’t think I have ever known a man who would admit to being a poor reader of maps,† she said once she regained her composure. You read "The Lost Duke of Wyndham Chapter Fifteen" in category "Essay examples" He let his gaze grow warm, then hot. â€Å"I told you I was special.† â€Å"Oh, stop.† She wasn’t looking at him, not directly, at least, and so she did not see his change of expression. Which probably explained why her tone remained so bright and brisk as she said, â€Å"I must say, it does complicate matters. The dowager asked me to find you so that you could aid with our routing once we disembark in Dublin.† He waved a hand. â€Å"That I can do.† â€Å"Without a map?† â€Å"We went frequently during my school days.† She looked up and smiled, almost nostalgically, as if she could see into his memories. â€Å"I’d wager you were not the head boy.† He lifted a brow. â€Å"Do you know, I think most people would consider that an insult.† Her lips curved and her eyes glowed with mischief. â€Å"Oh, but not you.† She was right, of course, not that he was going to let her know it. â€Å"And why would you think that?† â€Å"You would never want to be head boy.† â€Å"Too much responsibility?† he murmured, wondering if that was what she thought of him. She opened her mouth, and he realized that she’d been about to say yes. Her cheeks turned a bit pink, and she looked away for a moment before answering. â€Å"You are too much of a rebel,† she answered. â€Å"You would not wish to be aligned with the administration.† â€Å"Oh, the administration,† he could not help but echo with amusement. â€Å"Don’t make fun of my choice of words.† â€Å"Well,† he declared, arching one brow. â€Å"I do hope you realize you are saying this to a former officer in His Majesty’s army.† This she dismissed immediately. â€Å"I should have said that you enjoy styling yourself as a rebel. I rather suspect that at heart you’re just as conventional as the rest of us.† He paused, and then: â€Å"I hope you realize you are saying this to a former highwayman on His Majesty’s roads.† How he said this with a straight face, he’d never know, and indeed it was a relief when Grace, after a moment of shock, burst out laughing. Because really, he didn’t think he could have held that arch, offended expression for one moment longer. He rather felt like he was imitating Wyndham, sitting there like such a stick. It unsettled the stomach, really. â€Å"You’re dreadful,† Grace said, wiping her eyes. â€Å"I try my best,† he said modestly. â€Å"And this† – she wagged a finger at him, grinning all the while – â€Å"is why you will never be head boy.† â€Å"Good God, I hope not,† he returned. â€Å"I’d be a bit out of place at my age.† Not to mention how desperately wrong he was for school. He still had dreams about it. Certainly not nightmares – it could not be worth the energy. But every month or so he woke up from one of those annoying visions where he was back at school (rather absurdly at his current age of eight-and-twenty). It was always of a similar nature. He looked down at his schedule and suddenly realized he’d forgotten to attend Latin class for an entire term. Or arrived for an exam without his trousers. The only school subjects he remembered with any fondness were sport and art. Sport had always been easy. He need only watch a game for a minute before his body knew instinctively how to move, and as for art – well, he’d never excelled at any of the practical aspects, but had always loved the study of it. For all the reasons he’d talked about with Grace his first night at Belgrave. His eyes fell on the book, still open on the table between them. â€Å"Why do you dislike this?† he asked, motioning to the painting. It was not his favorite, but he did not find anything to offend. â€Å"She does not like him,† she said. She was looking down at the book, but he was looking at her, and he was surprised to see that her brow was wrinkled. Concern? Anger? He could not tell. â€Å"She does not want his attentions,† Grace continued. â€Å"And he will not stop. Look at his expression.† Jack peered at the image a little more closely. He supposed he saw what she meant. The reproduction was not what he would consider superior, and it was difficult to know how true it was to the actual painting. Certainly the color would be off, but the lines seemed clear. He supposed there was something insidious in the man’s expression. Still†¦ â€Å"But couldn’t one say,† he asked, â€Å"that you are objecting to the content of the painting and not the painting itself?† â€Å"What is the difference?† He thought for a moment. It had been some time since anyone had engaged him in what might be termed intellectual discourse. â€Å"Perhaps the artist wishes to invoke this response. Perhaps his intention is to portray this very scene. It does not mean that he endorses it.† â€Å"I suppose.† Her lips pressed together, the corners tightening in a manner that he’d not seen before. He did not like it. It aged her. But more than that, it seemed to call to the fore an unhappiness that was almost entrenched. When she moved her mouth like that – angry, upset, resigned – it looked like she would never be happy again. Worse, it looked like she accepted it. â€Å"You do not have to like it,† he said softly. Her mouth softened but her eyes remained clouded. â€Å"No,† she said, â€Å"I don’t.† She reached forward and flipped the page, her fingers changing the subject. â€Å"I have heard of Monsieur Watteau, of course, and he may be a revered artist, but – Oh!† Jack was already smiling. Grace had not been looking at the book as she’d turned the page. But he had. â€Å"Oh my†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"Now that’s a Boucher,† Jack said appreciatively. â€Å"It’s not†¦I’ve never†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Her eyes were wide – two huge blue moons. Her lips were parted, and her cheeks†¦He only just managed to resist the urge to fan her. â€Å"Marie-Louise O’Murphy,† he told her. She looked up in horror. â€Å"You know her?† He shouldn’t have laughed, but truly, he could not help it. â€Å"Every schoolboy knows her. Of her,† he corrected. â€Å"I believe she passed on recently. In her dotage, have no fear. Tragically, she was old enough to be my grandmother.† He gazed down fondly at the woman in the painting, lounging provocatively on a divan. She was naked – wonderfully, gloriously, completely so – and lying on her belly, her back slightly arched as she leaned on the arm of the sofa, peering over the edge. She was painted from the side, but even so, a portion of the cleft of her buttocks was scandalously visible, and her legs†¦ Jack sighed happily at the memory. Her legs were spread wide, and he was quite certain he had not been the only schoolboy to have imagined settling himself between them. Many a young lad had lost his virginity (in dreams, but still) to Marie-Louise O’Murphy. He wondered if the lady had ever realized the service she had provided. He looked up at Grace. She was staring at the painting. He thought – he hoped – she might be growing aroused. â€Å"You’ve never seen it before?† he murmured. She shook her head. Barely. She was transfixed. â€Å"She was the mistress of the King of France,† Jack told her. â€Å"It was said that the king saw one of Boucher’s portraits of her – not this one, I think, perhaps a miniature – and he decided he had to have her.† Grace’s mouth opened, as if she wanted to comment, but nothing quite came out. â€Å"She came from the streets of Dublin,† he said, â€Å"or so I’m told. It is difficult to imagine her obtaining the surname O’Murphy anywhere else.† He sighed in fond recollection. â€Å"We were always so proud to claim her as one of our own.† He moved so that he might stand behind her, leaning over her shoulder. When he spoke, he knew that his words would land on her skin like a kiss. â€Å"It’s quite provocative, isn’t it?† Still, Grace seemed not to know what to say. Jack did not mind. He had discovered that watching Grace looking at the painting was far more erotic than the painting itself had ever been. â€Å"I always wanted to go see it in person,† he commented. â€Å"I believe it is in Germany now. Munich, perhaps. But alas, my travels never took me that way.† â€Å"I’ve never seen anything like it,† Grace whispered. â€Å"It does make one feel, does it not?† She nodded. And he wondered – if he had always dreamed of lying between Mademoiselle O’Murphy’s thighs, did Grace now wonder what it was like to be her? Did she imagine herself lying on the divan, exposed to a man’s erotic gaze? To his gaze. He would never allow anyone else to see her thus. Around them, the room was silent. He could hear his own breath, each one more shaky than the last. And he could hear hers – soft, low, and coming faster with each inhalation. He wanted her. Desperately. He wanted Grace. He wanted her spread before him like the girl in the painting. He wanted her any way he could have her. He wanted to peel the clothes from her body, and he wanted to worship every inch of her skin. He could practically feel it, the soft weight of her thighs in his hands as he opened her to him, the musky heat as he moved closer for a kiss. â€Å"Grace,† he whispered. She was not looking at him. Her eyes were still on the painting in the book. Her tongue darted out, moistening the very center of her lips. She couldn’t have known what that did to him. He reached around her, touching her fingers. She did not pull away. â€Å"Dance with me,† he murmured, wrapping his hand around her wrist. He tugged at her gently, urging her to her feet. â€Å"There is no music,† she whispered. But she stood. With no resistance, not even a hint of hesitation, she stood. And so he said the one thing that was in his heart. â€Å"We will make it ourselves.† There were so many moments when Grace could have said no. When his hand touched hers. When he pulled her to her feet. When he’d asked her to dance, despite the lack of music – that would have been a logical moment. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She should have. But she didn’t want to. And then somehow she was in his arms, and they were waltzing, in time with the soft hum of his voice. It was not an embrace that would ever be allowed in a proper ballroom; he was holding her far too close, and with each step he seemed to draw her closer, until finally the distance between them was measured not in inches but in heat. â€Å"Grace,† he said, her name a hoarse, needy moan. But she did not hear the last bit of it, that last consonant. He was kissing her by then, all sound lost in his onslaught. And she was kissing him back. Good heavens, she did not think she had ever wanted anything so much as she did this man, in this moment. She wanted him to surround her, to engulf her. She wanted to lose herself in him, to lay her body down and offer herself up to him. Anything, she wanted to whisper. Anything you want. Because surely he knew what she needed. The painting of that woman – the French king’s mistress – it had done something to her. She’d been bewitched. There could be no other explanation. She wanted to lie naked on a divan. She wanted to know the sensation of damask rubbing against her belly, while cool, fresh air whispered across her back. She wanted to know what it felt like to lie that way, with a man’s eyes burning hotly over her form. His eyes. Only his. â€Å"Jack,† she whispered, practically throwing herself against him. She needed to feel him, the pressure of him, the strength. She did not want his touch only on her lips; she wanted it everywhere, and everywhere at once. For a moment he faltered, as if surprised by her sudden enthusiasm, but he quickly recovered, and within seconds he had kicked the door shut and had her pinned up against the wall beside it, never once breaking their kiss. She was on her toes, pressed so tightly between Jack and the wall that her feet would have dangled in the air if she’d been just an inch higher. His mouth was hungry, and she was breathless, and when he moved down to worship her cheek, and then her throat, it was all she could do to keep her head upright. As it was, her neck was stretching, and she could feel herself arching forward, her breasts aching for closer contact. This was not their first intimacy, but it was not the same. Before, she’d wanted him to kiss her. She’d wanted to be kissed. But now†¦It was as if every pent-up dream and desire had awoken within her, turning her into some strange fiery creature. She felt aggressive. Strong. And she was so damned tired of watching life happen around her. â€Å"Jack†¦Jack†¦Ã¢â‚¬  She could not seem to say anything else, not when his teeth were tugging at the bodice of her frock. His fingers were aiding in the endeavor, nimbly unfastening the buttons at her back. But somehow that wasn’t fair. She wanted to be a part of it, too. â€Å"Me,† she managed to get out, and she moved her hands, which had been reveling in the crisp silkiness of his hair, to his shirtfront. She slid down the wall, pulling him along with her, until they were both on the floor. Without missing a beat, she made frenetic work of his buttons, yanking his shirt aside once she was through. For a moment she could do nothing but gaze. Her breath was sucked inside of her, burning to get out, but she could not seem to exhale. She touched him, laying her palm against his chest, a whoosh of air finally escaping her lips when she felt his heart leaping beneath his skin. She stroked upward, and then down, marveling at the contact, until one of his hands roughly covered hers. â€Å"Grace,† he said. He swallowed, and she could feel that his fingers were trembling. She looked up, waiting for him to continue. He could seduce with nothing but a glance, she thought. A touch and she would melt. Did he have any idea the magic he held over her? The power? â€Å"Grace,† he said again, his breath labored. â€Å"I won’t be able to stop soon.† â€Å"I don’t care.† â€Å"You do.† His voice was ragged, and it made her want him even more. â€Å"I want you,† she pleaded. â€Å"I want this.† He looked as if he were in pain. She knew she was. He squeezed her hand, and they both paused. Grace looked up, and their eyes met. And held. And in that moment, she loved him. She didn’t know what it was he’d done to her, but she was changed. And she loved him for it. â€Å"I won’t take this from you,† he said in a rough whisper. â€Å"Not like this.† Then how? she wanted to ask, but sense was trickling back into her body, and she knew he was right. She had precious little of value in this world – her mother’s tiny pearl earrings, a family Bible, love letters between her parents. But she had her body, and she had her pride, and she could not allow herself to give them to a man who was not to be her husband. And they both knew that if he turned out to be the Duke of Wyndham, then he could never be her husband. Grace did not know all of the circumstances of his upbringing, but she’d heard enough to know that he was familiar with the ways of the aristocracy. He had to know what would be expected of him. He cupped her face in his hands and stared at her with a tenderness that took her breath away. â€Å"As God is my witness,† he whispered, turning her around so he could do up her buttons, â€Å"this is the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life.† Somehow she found the strength to smile. Or at the very least, to not cry. Later that night Grace was in the rose salon, hunting down writing paper for the dowager, who had decided – on the spur of the moment, apparently – that she must send a letter to her sister, the grand duchess of that small European country whose name Grace could never pronounce (or, indeed, remember). This was a lengthier process than it seemed, as the dowager liked to compose her correspondence aloud (with Grace as audience), debating – at painful length – each turn of phrase. Grace then had to concentrate on memorizing the dowager’s words, as she would then be required (not by the dowager; rather, by a general duty to humanity) to recopy the dowager’s missive, translating her unintelligible scrawl into something a bit more neat and tidy. The dowager did not acknowledge that she did this; in fact, the one time Grace offered, she flew into such a huff that Grace had never again whispered a word of it. But considering that her sister’s next letter opened with gushes of praise on the dowager’s new penmanship, Grace could not imagine that she was completely unaware. Ah, well. It was one of those things they did not discuss. Grace did not mind the task this evening. Sometimes it gave her a headache; she did try to do her recopying when the sun was still high and she could enjoy the advantages of natural light. But it was an endeavor that required all of her concentration, and she rather thought that it was exactly what she needed right now. Something to take her mind off†¦well, everything. Mr. Audley. Thomas. And how awful she felt. Mr. Audley. That painting of that woman. Mr. Audley. Jack. Grace let out a short, loud sigh. For heaven’s sake, who was she trying to fool? She knew exactly what she was trying so hard not to think about. Herself. She sighed. Maybe she ought to take herself off to the land of the unpronounceable name. She wondered if they spoke English there. She wondered if the Grand Duchess Margareta (nee Margaret, and called, she was pertly told by the dowager, Maggs) could possibly be as ill-tempered as her sister. It did seem unlikely. Although as a member of the royal family, Maggs presumably had the authority to order someone’s head lopped off. The dowager had said they were a bit feudal over there. Grace touched her head, decided she liked it where it was, and with renewed determination pulled open the top drawer to the escritoire, using perhaps a bit more force than necessary. She winced at the screech of wood against wood, then frowned; this really wasn’t such a well-made piece of furniture. Rather out of place at Belgrave, she had to say. Nothing in the top drawer. Just a quill that looked as if it hadn’t seen use since the last King George ruled the land. She moved to the second, reaching to the back in case anything was hiding in the shadows, and then she heard something. Someone. It was Thomas. He was standing in the doorway, looking rather peaked, and even in the dim light she could see that his eyes were bloodshot. She gulped down a wave of guilt. He was a good man. She hated that she was falling in love with his rival. No, that was not it. She hated that Mr. Audley was his rival. No, not that. She hated the whole bloody situation. Every last speck of it. â€Å"Grace,† he said. Nothing else, just her name. She swallowed. It had been some time since they’d conversed on friendly terms. Not that they had been un friendly, but truly, was there anything worse than oh-so-careful civility? â€Å"Thomas,† she said, â€Å"I did not realize you were still awake.† â€Å"It’s not so late,† he said with a shrug. â€Å"No, I suppose not.† She glanced up at the clock. â€Å"The dowager is abed but not yet asleep.† â€Å"Your work is never done, is it?† he asked, entering the room. â€Å"No,† she said, wanting to sigh. Then, refusing to feel sorry for herself, she explained, â€Å"I ran out of writing paper upstairs.† â€Å"For correspondence?† â€Å"Your grandmother’s,† she affirmed. â€Å"I have no one with whom to correspond.† Dear heavens, could that be true? It had never even occurred to her before. Had she written a single letter in the years she’d been here? â€Å"I suppose once Elizabeth Willoughby marries and moves away†¦Ã¢â‚¬  She paused, thinking how sad that was, that she needed her friend to leave so she might be able to write a letter. â€Å"†¦I shall miss her.† â€Å"Yes,† he said, looking somewhat distracted, not that she could blame him, given the current state of his affairs. â€Å"You are good friends, aren’t you?† She nodded, reaching into the recesses of the third drawer. Success! â€Å"Ah, here we are.† She pulled forth a small stack of paper, then realized that her triumph meant that she had to go tend to her duties. â€Å"I must go write your grandmother’s letters now.† â€Å"She does not write them herself?† he asked with surprise. Grace almost chuckled at that. â€Å"She thinks she does. But the truth is, her penmanship is dreadful. No one could possibly make out what she intends to say. Even I have difficulty with it. I end up improvising at least half in the copying.† She looked down at the pages in her hands, shaking them down against the top of the desk first one way and then on the side, to make an even stack. When she looked back up, Thomas was standing a bit closer, looking rather serious. â€Å"I must apologize, Grace,† he said, walking toward her. Oh, she didn’t want this. She didn’t want an apology, not when she herself held so much guilt in her heart. â€Å"For this afternoon?† she asked, her voice perhaps a little too light. â€Å"No, please, don’t be silly. It’s a terrible situation, and no one could fault you for – â€Å" â€Å"For many things,† he cut in. He was looking at her very strangely, and Grace wondered if he’d been drinking. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. She had told herself that she mustn’t scold him; truly, it was a wonder he was behaving as well as he was, under the circumstances. â€Å"Please,† she said, hoping to put an end to the discussion. â€Å"I cannot think of anything for which you need to make amends, but I assure you, if there were, I would accept your apology, with all graciousness.† â€Å"Thank you,† he said. And then, seemingly out of nowhere: â€Å"We depart for Liverpool in two days.† Grace nodded. She knew this already. And surely he should have known that she was aware of the plans. â€Å"I imagine you have much to do before we leave,† she said. â€Å"Almost nothing,† he said, but there was something awful in his voice, almost as if he were daring her to ask his meaning. And there had to be a meaning, because Thomas always had much to do, whether he had a planned departure or not. â€Å"Oh. That must be a pleasant change,† she said, because she could not simply ignore his statement. He leaned forward slightly, and Grace smelled spirits on his breath. Oh, Thomas. She ached for him, for what he must be feeling. And she wanted to tell him: I don’t want it, either. I want you to be the duke and Jack to be plain Mr. Audley, and I want all of this just to be over. Even if the truth turned out to be not what she prayed for, she wanted to know. But she couldn’t say this aloud. Not to Thomas. Already he was looking at her in that piercing way of his, as if he knew all her secrets – that she was falling in love with his rival, that she had already kissed him – several times – and she had wanted so much more. She would have done more, if Jack had not stopped her. â€Å"I am practicing, you see,† Thomas said. â€Å"Practicing?† â€Å"To be a gentleman of leisure. Perhaps I should emulate your Mr. Audley.† â€Å"He is not my Mr. Audley,† she immediately replied, even though she knew he had only said as much to provoke her. â€Å"He shall not worry,† Thomas continued, as if she’d not spoken. â€Å"I have left all of the affairs in perfect order. Every contract has been reviewed and every last number in every last column has been tallied. If he runs the estate into the ground, it shall be on his own head.† â€Å"Thomas, stop,† she said, because she could not bear it. For either of them. â€Å"Don’t talk this way. We don’t know that he is the duke.† â€Å"Don’t we?† His lip curled as he looked down at her. â€Å"Come now, Grace, we both know what we will find in Ireland.† â€Å"We don’t,† she insisted, and her voice sounded hollow. She felt hollow, as if she had to hold herself perfectly still just to keep from cracking. He stared at her. For far longer than was comfortable. And then: â€Å"Do you love him?† Grace felt the blood drain from her face. â€Å"Do you love him?† he repeated, stridently this time. â€Å"Audley.† â€Å"I know who you’re talking about,† she said before she could think the better of it. â€Å"I imagine you do.† She stood still, forcing herself to unclench her fists. She’d probably ruined the writing paper; she’d heard it crumple in her hand. He’d gone from apologetic to hateful in the space of a second, and she knew he was hurting inside, but so was she, damn it. â€Å"How long have you been here?† he asked. She drew back, her head turning slightly to the side. He was looking at her so strangely. â€Å"At Belgrave?† she said hesitantly. â€Å"Five years.† â€Å"And in all that time I haven’t†¦Ã¢â‚¬  He shook his head. â€Å"I wonder why.† Without even thinking, she tried to step back, but the desk blocked her way. What was wrong with him? â€Å"Thomas,† she said, wary now, â€Å"what are you talking about?† He seemed to find that funny. â€Å"Damned if I know.† And then, while she was trying to think of a suitable reply, he let out a bitter laugh and said, â€Å"What’s to become of us, Grace? We’re doomed, you know. Both of us.† She knew it was true, but it was terrible to hear it confirmed. â€Å"I don’t know what you’re talking about,† she said. â€Å"Oh, come now, Grace, you’re far too intelligent for that.† â€Å"I should go.† But he was blocking her way. â€Å"Thomas, I – â€Å" And then – dear heavens – he was kissing her. His mouth was on hers, and her stomach flipped in horror, not because his kiss was repulsive, because it wasn’t. It was the shock of it. Five years she’d been here, and he’d never even hinted at – â€Å"Stop!† She wrenched herself away. â€Å"Why are you doing this?† â€Å"I don’t know,† he said with a helpless shrug. â€Å"I’m here, you’re here†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"I’m leaving.† But one of his hands was still on her arm. She needed him to release her. She could have pulled away; he was not holding her tightly. But she needed it to be his decision. He needed it to be his decision. â€Å"Ah, Grace,† he said, looking almost defeated. â€Å"I am not Wyndham any longer. We both know it.† He paused, shrugged, held out his hand in surrender. â€Å"Thomas?† she whispered. And then he said, â€Å"Why don’t you marry me when this is all over?† â€Å"What?† Something akin to horror washed over her. â€Å"Oh, Thomas, you’re mad.† But she knew what he really meant. A duke could not marry Grace Eversleigh. But if he wasn’t†¦If he was just plain Mr. Cavendish†¦Why not? Acid rose in her throat. He didn’t mean to insult. She didn’t even feel insulted. She knew the world she inhabited. She knew the rules, and she knew her place. Jack could never be hers. Not if he was the duke. â€Å"What do you say, Gracie?† Thomas touched her chin, tipped her face up to look at him. And she thought – maybe. Would it be so very bad? She could not stay at Belgrave, that was for certain. And maybe she would learn to love him. She already did, really, as a friend. He leaned down to kiss her again, and this time she let him, praying that her heart would pound and her pulse would race and that spot between her legs†¦Oh, please let it feel as it did when Jack touched her. But there was nothing. Just a rather warm sense of friendship. Which she supposed wasn’t the worst thing in the world. â€Å"I can’t,† she whispered, turning her face to the side. She wanted to cry. And then she did cry, because Thomas rested his chin on her head, comforting her like a brother. Her heart twisted, and she heard him whisper, â€Å"I know.† How to cite The Lost Duke of Wyndham Chapter Fifteen, Essay examples

Cost of Production free essay sample

Costs of Production July 2011 Topics to be Discussed Measuring Cost: Which Costs Matter? How do Cost Curves Behave? – Cost in the Short Run – Cost in the Long Run How to Minimize Cost? How to draw Implications for Business Strategy? Topics to be Discussed Production with Two Outputs: Economies of Scope Dynamic Changes in Costs: The Learning Curve Estimating and Predicting Cost Measuring Cost: Which Costs Matter? Accountants tend to take a retrospective view of firms’ costs, whereas economists tend to take a forward-looking view Accounting Cost – Actual expenses plus depreciation charges for capital equipment Economic Cost – Cost to a firm of utilizing economic resources in production, including opportunity cost Costs as Opportunity Costs Accountants measure the explicit costs but often ignore the implicit costs. Economists include all opportunity costs when measuring costs. Accounting Profit = TR Explicit Costs Economic Profit = TR Explicit Costs Implicit Costs Explicit and Implicit costs The firm’s costs include Explicit Costs and Implicit Costs: – Explicit Costs: costs that involve a direct money outlay for acquiring factors of production. – Actual expenditure incurred by firm for hire, rent or purchase of the inputs so as to undertake production. (Exp: Wages to hire labour, rental price of capital, equipment and buildings and purchase price of raw materials and semi finished products). – Implicit Costs: Costs that do not involve a direct money outlay – (Ex. Opportunity costs of the owner’s own inputs used Implicit wages, implicit rent, cost of capital). Opportunity Cost Economic costs distinguish between costs the firm can control and those it cannot Opportunity cost – Cost associated with opportunities that are foregone when a firm’s resources are not put to their highest-value use Opportunity cost of an action is the value of the next best alternative forgone. For an Input: What the input could have earned from best alternative use (outside the firm). SUNK COST Although opportunity costs are hidden and should be taken into account, sunk costs should not Sunk Cost – EXPENDITURE THAT HAS BEEN MADE AND CANNOT BE RECOVERED – Firm buys a piece of equipment that cannot be converted to another use Cost that is committed but can not be avoided – Should not influence a firm’s future economic decisions Sunk Cost From a firm’s point of view it is the cost that arises when an investment in an asset can not be recovered by subsequent resale. Firm can neither sell nor lease it to any other person and even cannot be used for other alternative purposes. Investment is a SUNK COST when its OPPORTUNITY COST is zero. Fixed Cost versus Sunk Cost Fixed Cost – Cost paid by a firm that is in business regardless of the level of output Fixed costs can be avoided if the firm goes out of business (say key executives will not be needed) Sunk Cost – Cost that has been incurred and cannot be recovered Ex: Cost of factory with specialized equipment which is of no use in another industry Exception: Something can be recovered if it is sold for scrap. Family of Total Costs Total Fixed Costs (TFC) Total Variable Costs (TVC) Total Costs (TC) TC = TFC + TVC Short Run Costs Fixed Costs: – Those costs that do not vary with the amount of output produced or level of output. – Total obligations of the firm per given period (time) for all fixed inputs (Land, Building, Capital Equipment). – Exp: Payment for renting the plant and equipment if firm owns it, insurance, property taxes, salaries (for top management fixed by contract and to be paid during the period of contract irrespective of going for production or not) – -Annual allowances made for depreciation (wear and tear) and expenditure on maintenance Variable Cost Those costs that do vary with the amount of output produced. – Obligations of the firm per period for all variable inputs – (Exp. Payment for Raw materials and fuels, expense on power and water supply, wages of labour) Family of Average Costs. . . Average Costs: Specific Cost / Output Level Average Fixed Costs (AFC) = Total Fixed Costs / output (Q) Average Variable Costs (AVC) = Total Variable Cost / output (Q) Average Total Costs (ATC) = Total Cost / Output (Q) Marginal Cost: â€Å"How much does it cost to produce an additional unit of output? Marginal Cost (MC): â€Å"The extra or additional cost of producing one more unit of output. † MC = TC ? Q Determinants of Short Run Costs INCREASE in OUTPUT leads to INCREASE in TOTAL COST. HOW does it MOVE? Extent of Rise in Cost Depends on the nature of the PRODUCTION PROCESS – Extent to which production involves DIMINSHING RETURNS to VARIABLE FACTORS If MARGINAL PRODUCT OF LABOUR DECREASES signifi cantly as more labor is hired – Costs of production increase rapidly – Greater and greater expenditures must be made to produce more output Determinants of Short Run Costs Assume Labour: only Variable Input Assume the wage rate (w) is fixed relative to the number of workers hired Variable costs is the per unit cost of extra labor times the amount of extra labor: wL ?VC w? L MC = = ? Q ? Q A Firm’s Short Run Costs Inference: MC decreases initially with increasing returns (0 through 4 units of output) MC increases with decreasing returns (5 through 11 units of output) TC Cost 400 ($ per year) 300 Total cost is the vertical sum of FC and VC. VC 200 Variable cost increases with production and the rate varies with increasing and decreasing returns. 100 50 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Fixed cost does not vary with output FC 10 11 12 13 Output Short Run Cost Curve: Summary Short run cost curves (AVC, ATC and MC) are UShaped- Law of variable proportion In the short run with fixed plant, there is a phase of INCREASING PRODUCTIVITY (falling unit costs) a phase of DECREASING PRODUCTIVITY (increasing unit cost) of the variable factors. Between these two phases there is a single point at which unit COSTS are MINIMUM. At this point on ATC, the plant is utilised optimally (optimal combinations of fixed and variable factors) Cost Minimizing Input Choice in Long Run: Producing a Given Output at Minimum Cost Capital per year K2 Q1 is an isoquant for output Q1. There are three isocost lines, of which 2 are possible choices in which to produce Q1. A K1 K3 C0 L2 L1 C1 L3 Isocost C2 shows quantity Q1 can be produced with combination K2,L2 or K3,L3. However, both of these are higher cost combinations than K1,L1. Q1 C2 Labor per year Cost in the Long Run †¢ How does the isocost line relate to the firm’s production process? MRTS = ? K = ? MPL ?L MPK Slope of isocost line = ? K MPL =w ?L = ? w r MPK r when firm minimizes cost Long Run versus Short Run Cost Curves The Inflexibility of Short Run Production Capital E per year Capital is fixed at K1. To produce Q1, min cost at (K1,L1). If increase output to Q2, min. cost is K1 and L3 in short run. Long-Run Expansion Path In Long R, can change capital and min costs falls to K2 and L2. C Expansion Path: A Combination of Labour Capital that firm chooses to K2 Minimize Cost at each Level of K1 Output. P Short-Run Expansion Path Q2 Q1 L1 L2 B L3 D F Labor per year Derivation of Expansion Path Long Run Total Cost Curves †¢ Long Run Versus Short Run Cost Curves Long-Run Average Cost (LAC) – Most important determinant of the shape of the LR AC and MC curves is relationship between scale of the firm’s operation and inputs required to minimize cost Long-Run Costs How does per unit costs behave as the firm EXPANDS all INPUTS, even plant size or scale of operation? The Long-Run Average Total Cost (LRATC) reflects the lowest possible unit cost related to different plant sizes and/or scales of operation. In long run no fixed factor, all factors are variable. LRATC=LVC or Average total and variable costs coin cide. The LRATC Curve is U-shaped Long Run Versus Short Run Cost Curves †¢ Long-run marginal cost leads long-run average cost: – If LMC LAC, LAC will fall – If LMC LAC, LAC will rise – Therefore, LMC = LAC at the minimum of LAC In special case where LAC is constant, LAC and LMC are equal Long Run Average and Marginal Cost Cost ($ per unit of output LMC LAC A Output U-Shaped LAC Curve †¢ Increasing Returns to scale †¢ Constant Returns to Scale †¢ Diminishing Returns to Scale Sources of Returns to Scale Economies of Scale Diseconomies of Scale Economies of Scale Economies of Scale: Output can be doubled for less than a doubling Cost- Pindyck et al. LRATC DECREASEs as the Scale of Operation INCREASES. Diseconomies of Scale (DRS): Doubling of Output requires more than a doubling of Cost LRATC INCREASES with the scale of operation. U-shaped LAC reflects ECONOMIES of SCALE for relatively low output levels and diseconomies of scale for higher levels Distinction between IRS Economies of Scale Increasing Returns to Scale – Output more than doubles when the QUANTITIES of all inputs are doubled Economies of Scale – Doubling of output requires LESS than a doubling of COST Ex: Milking cows by hand in large dairy firms†¦. Constant Returns to Scale but experience Economies of scale if milked by machine (Pindyck et al. ) ‘†¦.. Firm’s production process can exhibit constant returns to scale, but still have economies of scale as well. Of course, firm can enjoy both economies of scale and increasing returns to scale (Pindyck) Emergence of Economies of Scale? †¢ As output increases, firm’s AC of producing is likely to decline to a point 1. Production Economies On a larger scale, workers can better SPECIALIZE.. DEVELOPMETN OF Skills, Time Saving etc 2. Scale can provide flexibility – managers can organize production more effectively 3. DISCOUNT for BULK PURCHASE of INPUTS (Raw Materials) Firm may be able to get inputs at lower cost if can get quantity discounts. Lower prices might lead to different input mix. ECONOMIES of SCALE Change in TECHNOLOGY in the long run -Changes in FACTOR PRICES -Transport and Storage Economies (Average cost of Transport Relatively low for bulk transport and bulk storage) -Selling or Marketing Economies (Lower Average cost of Advertising at large Scale) Economies of Scale Managerial Economies Arises Primarily due to Specialisation of Management Mechanisation of Manageri al Function. Division of Managerial Task-Specialization of ManagementImprovement in Efficiency. High Degree of Mechanisation (Telephone, computer) and Decline in Cost Decision Making Process Decentralized (increase in efficiency) Continues†¦. – LOW COST OF FINANCE Larger firm can borrow at lower interest rate and have access to Financial Market Exp: PRIME LENDING RATE of Commercial Banks. – Lower Salaries can be Paid if employees prefer to be associated with organisation of Repute or there is no LABOUR UNION (Low expenditure†¦Ã¢â‚¬ ¦Relatively low cost) Diseconomies of Scale †¢ At some point, AC will begin to increase 1. FACTORY SPACE and MACHINERY may make it more difficult for workers to do their jobs efficiently 2. Managing a larger firm may become more complex and inefficient as the NUMBER OF TASKS INCREASES 3. Increase in INPUT PRICES resulting from increase in Usage by the firm or Limited availability of Inputs Diseconomies of Scale –Management Limitations (diseconomies) Decisions are Delayed in large firms (information often consciously or unconsciously distorted as it passes through various hierarchical levels or stopped for different reasons at some stage) DECISIONS OF TOP MANAGEMENT will not be optimal if information is not accurate or comes with time lag (by that time environment undergone a change) CRITICS argue in the MODERN WORLD it does not PREVAIL. Do you agree? Long Run Costs Economies of scale are measured in terms of †¢ COST-OUTPUT ELASTICITY (Ec) †¢ EC is the percentage change in the cost of production resulting from a 1-per cent increase in output ?C C EC = ?Q Q = MC AC Long Run Costs †¢ EC is equal to 1, MC = AC – Costs increase proportionately with output – Neither economies nor diseconomies of scale †¢ EC 1 when MC AC – E conomies of scale – Both MC and AC are declining †¢ EC 1 when MC AC – Diseconomies of scale – Both MC and AC are rising Long Run Average Cost Curve: Flatbottomed (Rs) Curve (a Special Case) Per Unit LRATC Curve Econ. of Scale Neither Economies nor Diseconomies of Scale Disecon . of Scale Scale of Operation (Q) Production with Two Outputs – Economies of Scope †¢ Many firms produce more than one product and those PRODUCTS are CLOSELY LINKED †¢ If it is CHEAPER for a firm to produce various products JOINTLY then producing it in different firms independently –Economies of Scope. †¢ Examples: – Chicken farmpoultry and eggs – Automobile companycars and trucks – Universityteaching and research -Commercial Banking along with Investment Banking and Provision of Insurance Economies/Diseconomies of Scope: Case of Multi-Product Firm If Total Cost of jointly producing Cars  © and Trucks (T) is smaller than the cost incurred for producing cars and trucks independently by different firms ECONOMIES OF SCOPE Exists if TC(C,T) [TC (C,0) + TC(0, T)] Reasons: Automobiles and Trucks can be produced with same metal sheet and engine assembly facilities. Joint Production: Better utilization of Production Facilities and lower costs. Economies of Scope †¢ Advantages 1. Both use capital and labor 2. The firms share management resources 3. Both use the same labor skills and types of machinery Economies of Scale and Economies of Scope Economies of scale: Should a Public sector commercial bank merge with its competitor (other PSBs) Economies of Scope: Should Commercial Bank offer Mutual Fund or Life insurance scheme? Production with Two Outputs – Economies of Scope †¢ There is no direct relationship between economies of scope and economies of scale – May experience economies of scope and diseconomies of scale – May have economies of scale and not have economies of scope Production with Two Outputs – Economies of Scope The degree of economies of scope (SC) can be measured by percentage of cost saved producing two or more products jointly: C(q1 ) + C(q 2 ) ? C(q1 ,q2 ) SC = C(q1 ,q2 ) C(q1) is the cost of producing q1 C(q2) is the cost of producing q2 C(q1,q2) is the joint cost of producing both products Production with Two Outputs – Economies of Scope †¢ With economies of scope, the joint cost is less than the sum of the individual costs †¢ Interpretation: – If SC 0 Economies of scope – If SC 0 Diseconomies of scope – The greater the value of SC, the greater the economies of scope Dynamic Changes in Costs – The Learning Curve Firms may lower their costs not only due to economies of scope, but also due to managers and workers becoming more EXPERIENCED at their JOBS †¢ As management and labor gain experience with production, the firm’s MARGINAL and AVERAGE COST may fall Dynamic Changes in Costs – The Learning Curve †¢ Learning cur ve: Measures the impact workers’ experience on the costs of production †¢ Describes the RELATIONSHIP between a firm’s CUMULATIVE output and the amount of INPUTS needed to produce each unit of output †¢ Learning curve information facilitates to take decision whether production operation is profitable or not. Based on the information plan how much cumulative output to be produced to reduce cost The Learning Curve Hours of labor per machine 10 8 6 4 2 0 10 20 Hours of Labour needed Per unit of output declines With increase in cumulative output 30 40 50 Cumulative number of machine produced Dynamic Changes in Costs – The Learning Curve †¢ Reasons 1. Workers SPEED OF WORK increases with experience 2. Managers learn to SCHEDULE PRODUCTION processes more efficiently (flow of material to organisations of manufacturing) 3. More FLEXIBILITY is allowed with experience; may include more specialized tools and plant organization 4. Suppliers become more efficient in processing required material†¦. often pass this advantage (lower material cost) to company Economies of Scale Versus Learning Cost (Rs per unit of output) Movement from A to B along AC1-Lower cost due to Economies of Scale Move from A (on AC1) to C (On AC2) leads to lower Cost due to Learning Economies of Scale A B Learning AC1 AC2 Output C Sum up†¦.. †¢ Relevance of studying cost of production †¢ Identify which cost matter †¢ How to minimize cost in the short run and long run †¢ Why is long run AC U-Shaped †¢ Distinction between Economies of Scale and Scope †¢ Role of Learning Curve in Cost