“Tell Miss Fawna it was your doing, not mine,” she whispered.
“Fine. She will want the girls to get better. Do not worry.” Josie left Abigail and continued down to the parlor. Fawna was blubbering into a handkerchief while Braham paced the small sitting area.
Josie entered the room. “What did the doctor say exactly?” she asked. Fawna and Braham turned to her.
“He agreed with Fawna.” Braham approached. She could smell the leather mixed with sunbaked cotton. His sleeves were peppered with cotton bits. “They must leave the boardinghouse.”
“But why?”
Fawna barged between them, her eyes red and her lips chapped. “They’re going to bring the whole house down, Miss Clay.” Her nostrils flared. “That doctor said he doesn’t know what it is—and with the epidemics plaguing other towns, all precautions must be made.”
“This is hardly an epidemic,” Josie uttered. “Look, you and I are not ill—and we’ve been closest to the women.”
“I pray we don’t fall sick,” Fawna whispered in a shaky voice. She crossed herself as she walked toward the fireplace.
Braham lifted his shoulders. “We shall transport the women to my aunt’s house. There is room, and they will not contaminate anyone—” He looked over his shoulder at the matron and then turned to Josie with a weariful brow. “Please, get them ready. I will have two carriages here by the morning break.”
The matron expelled a loud sigh of relief and dashed across the room. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Taylor.” Fawna took his arm and shook his hand. “Yes, get them to a safer place, that will do nicely. I shall get them ready right away.” Her usual liveliness appeared in a flash, and she disappeared up the stairs.
Josie drew near to Braham. “Must we take such drastic measures?”
“There will be no harm in doing it, and I fear the other women will suffer.” He cinched his brow and reached for Josie’s hands. “Will you come and care for the women?” His secure grip on her fingers and the worry in his umber gaze hinted at a notion that this man, good in all his ways, depended on her now—even if it was to take care of others.
“Of course I will come.” She smiled. “If you can spare one more factory worker.”
“You are so much more than that to me.” His eyes glimmered with as much determination as worry. An unspoken promise lay in his words. He thought only well of her. Whatever crept into Josie’s mind was shoved aside right now. She chose to believe his wordless affirmation and become the woman she had always wanted to be, the woman who Braham Taylor believed she was.
Braham grew anxious as he turned down the lane by the orchard. He pushed up his sleeves in the warm afternoon and begged God for His sweet providence this Saturday and in the days to come. Gerald would now be informed. It was his factory, after all.
Braham hopped down from the cart and went through the kitchen door of his house. He nearly crashed into Minnie, who was reaching for a pot from the rack. “Excuse me, Minnie.” He passed beside her.
She stumbled back and knocked into the table, the pot crashing to the floor. “Oh goodness, sir.” She fell to her knees and gathered up the pot. Braham caught a small bottle rolling toward the hearth and handed it to her. She stuffed it in her pocket. “I am sorry. I’ve been helping Miss Clay all morning.” She patted the pocket. “I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”
“I am sorry for startling you,” he said. “Thank you for helping Miss Clay though.”
“Lunch will be served soon, Mr. Taylor.” Cook came from the pantry with an armful of jars.
“Thank you.”
Minnie was only a couple of years younger than Braham, but her timid posture, and even more timid countenance, made her seem like she had not quite blossomed to the full. Very different from her sister, Audra. Braham always thought that Aunt Myrtle should have allowed Minnie to join Audra at the mill instead of being a house servant. The work and independence might have helped her. It had obviously given Audra full opportunity to become a strong soul—whether for good or bad, Braham wasn’t quite sure.
He stepped backward out of the kitchen, feeling as though he filled it up after such a racket. He passed through the dining room and into the parlor. An early summer breeze poured through the windows. The scent of grass and blooms freshened the place. Josie sat in the high-back chair by the empty fireplace, her eyes closed and her hair falling from a loose braid. She brightened up the room more than any summer bouquet or sunny ray.
He crept across the plush carpet and lowered onto the matching chair beside her.
“Braham?” she mumbled as her eyes fluttered open. “Forgive me. I mean, Mr. Taylor.”
He gathered her hand and said, “Braham to you.”
She gave him a sleepy smile then stretched her other arm up. “Are you home for the day?”
“I am.” All his trepidation fled. He could not think of anywhere else he might find more assurance that all would be well than with this woman sleepily greeting him. “How are the women?”
Her smile fell and she leaned over, taking his hand in both of hers. “I am afraid they are fading. I don’t know what to do.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she began to weep. He gathered her in his arms and allowed her small frame to rest against him. When her crying subsided, she mumbled, “They refuse the elixir now. We still have half of it left. Daisy just went home to look through her mother’s recipes. We are both perplexed.”
“Should we call on your doctor? Dr. Chadwick? Might he help?”
She sprang from his arms. “No, that would be no good at all.” Her face paled. “He is not a … very wise man.”
Braham softened his tone. “Josie, do you escape these men—the doctor and the farmhand of your father’s? I worry that they have harmed you in some way.” The mere thought of someone hurting this woman lit his anger—just as it flamed when he was a boy and his own father’s mistakes had brought on condemnation from the slave master.
Josie settled back in her chair. “They have wicked ways about them. I do not trust them—not as I trust you.” She wiped her eyes.
“I understand,” he soothed. “Trust is hard to come by. And even more difficult to gain once it’s broken.”
Josie’s eyes widened, and she blanched. “In Ains—my village, I was surrounded by broken trust.”
“I too have been haunted by it.” He stood up, shoved his hands in his pockets, and strode to the window. The curtains flapped in the breeze. “I prefer to move forward, leaving the past as a closed book. Yet the man I must face does everything to keep that book pried open.”
Josie sighed. “Moving forward for me is not nearly as comforting as looking back on a sweeter time. One with my mother. One without—” She closed her eyes and pressed her head in the chair. “Those men in my life. They do not let me forget my sorrows.”
“We are the same in so many ways, Josie.” He wagged his head as he paced along the room where he’d once found happy moments. It was strange to think on the sad ones before his time here, but they pressed on him as tension grew dense with the only Bates man left. “I have the same trouble with certain folk.”
“Mr. Bates seems a proud man,” Josie declared.
“So you know the man I speak of.” Braham gave a dry chuckle. “He does not forget the story that brought us to this moment. Not one day passes that he might forget.” He placed his hands behind his back. “My father found favor in Mr. Bates Sr.’s eyes, but he was not as trustworthy as he seemed. Father pretended to be someone he wasn’t to gain a position with Mr. Bates. The slave master was livid, as he had expected to work alongside his cousin’s man, not an indentured servant. Mr. Bates forgave my father, especially after hearing about our desperate beginnings on that ship from Ireland. That man was filled with as much compassion as his son is filled with animosity.” Braham sighed and ran a finger along a small painting of Terryhold on the mantel. “Mr. Bates was not around much, but the slave master was. He used Father’s lie to inflict torture on every person acquainted with us.” Braham
swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut. His best friend Howie and the rest of the slaves—the cruelty inflicted upon them still haunted him. His throat burned. “I have often wondered if Father was satisfied to die in that final beating, knowing all the blows others had suffered for him.”
Josie reached her hand to him, compassion rounding her blue eyes. “I am so sorry, Braham.”
He squatted down in front of her, placing his hands on the arms of the chair. She cupped his cheek, and he continued, “The one thing I’ve struggled with all this time is that I was almost relieved when Father died.”
Josie cocked her head, waiting for an explanation.
“We were all free of his mistake.”
“Was it so?”
Braham winced, shaking his head. “Free from the slave master? Yes. Master Bates was proud from a young age though. He’d torture the slaves in his own way. I was thankful to come here when Mr. Bates decided to build a factory.”
“The factory has been a good escape.” Josie folded her hands in her lap. “For both of us, it seems.”
“It is good—between Gerald’s visits.” He stood and held out his hand. “I also pray mightily, hoping that my friends in Georgia are well. Mr. Bates Sr. is the one person I’ve seen allow trust to grow again. He fired the slave master after my father revealed what was happening. That was the reason for his last beating.”
Josie took his hand. “The late Bates sounds like a wise and grace-bearing master.”
“He was.” Braham led her to the dining room. “And just.”
“I crave justice,” Josie said. “It is not often found and is usually crowded by all the darkness.”
He pulled out a chair for her. “If that farmhand or doctor returns, and justice must be served, you must tell me why—”
Her weary eyes dulled. “I can only say it’s for the wicked ways of the heart—justice is not to be found on this earth.”
Braham observed her as they placed their napkins in their laps. He tried to believe her when she spoke, but she withheld her gaze.
He wondered what deeds poured from the hearts of these wicked men.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sunday was a quiet day. Daisy and Josie had tried a new elixir, but many of the women refused to sit up and drink. The young apothecary left after dinner, suggesting that the doctor must return. Along with calling for the doctor, Braham had sent a messenger with a letter to Gerald, reluctantly so. He hardly slept that evening, awaking with a start at three o’clock. He crept downstairs, a foreboding in his spirit weighting him with every step. He was relieved to find Josie boiling a kettle in the kitchen. She could not sleep as well. They spent the early morning sharing a pot of tea by the fire.
Josie Clay was fast becoming the one person in the whole world whom he wanted to share his life with. But telling her that did not seem possible right now. Not with every other corner of his world pressing in on them. What would the future hold?
On Monday evening, after a day of making up for the lighter workforce, Braham hoped to return home to a doctor with decent news. He stopped at the bridge when he saw Daisy and Minnie waving at him. He wondered if they bore word, not from the doctor, but from Gerald. In that regard, decent news was out of the question. His throat tightened. What would the young Bates accuse Braham of, now that he had a third of his women needing to be replaced?
“Good evening, ladies.” He tipped his top hat as he pulled his horse to a stop.
“Perhaps you should get down from there, Braham.” Daisy’s voice was clipped, her usual stoic face pulled down in worry. “I am afraid we have some terrible news.” She looked at Minnie, who only dipped her head, hiding her face.
“What is it? Is it the girls? Miss Clay?” Fear gripped him as he considered that Josie might be struck by this horrific illness.
“It does have to do with Miss Clay,” Daisy replied. “Minnie, show him what you found.”
Minnie slipped her hand into her apron pocket. “Mr. Taylor, I was in Daisy’s kitchen when Miss Clay mixed the elixir. After they left, I noticed this bottle and its spilled contents on the floor. A mouse was eating crumbs coated in the powder. I picked up the bottle and stuck it in Daisy’s cupboard since I wasn’t sure where it belonged. When I turned around, the mouse was dead.”
Braham took the blue bottle and held it up to the dying sunlight. “This is not the same bottle you dropped the other evening?”
“No sir, that was green,” Minnie mumbled. There was a small amount of powder left at the bottom of the bottle. “What is it?”
“I believe it is arsenic or some sort of poison if a mouse was killed so instantly. I have never handled the stuff before,” Daisy remarked. “I am glad Minnie put it where she did. I would have never found it. Minnie brought it to me today when she heard that the women hadn’t healed yet.”
“Wouldn’t the women have perished the same as the mouse?” Braham exclaimed.
“Depends on the amount used. If it’s given a little at a time—a small amount in each dose—then it could prolong death.” Daisy grimaced. “Arsenic is known to create havoc on the victim’s stomach though.”
Braham ran his hand through his hair beneath his hat. He shoveled in air and tried to think clearly. “There is no reason to believe this was Josie’s intent.”
Minnie nibbled on her lip and glanced back and forth between Daisy and Braham. Daisy nodded as if encouraging the timid woman to speak. Minnie licked her lips. “Audra said that a Miss O’Leary even accused Josie of mixing the elixir wrong on purpose.” She swallowed hard. “To hurt her.”
“Well, that is absurd. Miss Clay would never hurt a soul.”
Daisy shrugged her shoulders. “I am not sure, Braham. That man whom you two brought in seemed rather suspicious. Gerald had been looking for him on his way out of town. Said something about him stealing. And then he told me he would catch him on his way down south.”
“Stealing?” Was that why the man was so beat up? The only thing that Gerald might protect was his own possessions. Braham remembered Alvin being around the Bates estate that first night Josie arrived. Was he there for mushrooms, or Audra—or was he a thief? “The wicked ways of that man have nothing to do with Miss Clay. She has only helped us.”
Minnie spoke up, “All I know is she has every bit of control of who might perish by her so-called remedies. And Daisy said that this poison would do that very thing.” She reached over and took the bottle from Braham. Even with her shoulders straight and her head tilted in confidence, her timidity seemed to tug at her lip with a twitch.
“The evidence is poor, ladies,” Braham asserted. His stomach was heavy. “However, I will ask Miss Clay myself. She is at the house now. Would you two like to come with me?”
Daisy opened her mouth to speak, but Minnie spoke for them both. “No, sir. We are to market.” She slid her arm in Daisy’s. “We are to collect the goods for a hearty broth for the ill women. That’s what Cook demanded.”
“Very well,” Braham said, climbing on top of his cart. “Do not worry, ladies. I am certain Miss Clay is as innocent as each of you. We will get to the bottom of this, and all will be well.”
As the cart rolled away, he left his confidence behind. Everything that Braham held dear was crumbling. Gerald’s fury was soon to find him once he received word that Braham might need to hire more women, and Josie Clay might have caused the very demise of Gloughton Mill.
He prayed for truth and goodness all the way home to the Bates estate.
Audra blocked the door that Josie was trying to get through. “Like I told you, this is much more complicated than you might think. Everything is going according to plan.”
“According to plan? The girls are very ill. We must help them.” The clock on the papered wall ticked seconds like pinpricks in her ear. Time was not to be wasted now. The women were fading just like Josie had seen her mother pass in Dr. Chadwick’s care.
She would do everything in her power to keep them alive.
A da
gger of doubt twisted in her heart. Was she working against her father in doing so?
“Ah, but think, if you let them be, you might finally get that corpse for Dr. Chadwick.”
Shame flooded her as Audra spoke aloud the ominous doubt in her determination to heal. The dagger faded though, and anger rose like a fire inside her. This woman knew Josie’s darkest secret. Exactly what else did she know? Josephine Clayton was not a posed mourner for the thrill of it, as Audra had seemed to be.
“Did Alvin tell you the whole story, Audra?” Josie’s voice shook. Audra cocked an eyebrow—either out of challenge or surprise. “I do not take stealing the dead lightly, like some might.” Josie leaned forward, her arms tight across her rib cage. “That is the very last thing I want to focus on right now. If someone is ill, my allegiance is to healing. Even if it means my father—” She swallowed hard, thinking of her crippled father waiting for the doctor to release his wages.
“Your father going to debtors’ prison is the least important consequence. Others are waiting, aren’t they?”
A storm of anguish whirled through Josie. She remembered the fear in her father’s eyes.
“We will figure this out.” Josie spoke through her teeth. “But for now, I must go to Daisy’s. We need to try—”
A thud from outside had both women stiffen. Josie looked out the window, but the lowering sun glared from behind the stables, blocking any view.
“I must go,” Josie muttered, trying to pass by Audra, but the woman only leaned back on the nook’s doorjamb with her arms lazily crossed.
“Don’t bother, Josie. Just think, by the end of the week, you’ll have a body to that silly Dr. Chadwick, and possibly the rest that you need. Everything will work out just fine.”
“What do you mean? The girls need the elixir.”
“Do not be ridiculous. I know that you poisoned them. This is all a good show, Miss Clay, but let us be honest.”
“I did nothing of the sort!” Josie crumpled onto the kitchen bench. Molly’s suspicion haunted her thoughts. “I don’t think I mixed it wrong. I—I am always very careful.”
The Yellow Lantern Page 20