Wildfire Love

by Rue Allyn

  After years of living with and appeasing her grandfather, Mae knew an angry man when she saw one. She had a choice. She could find a way to mollify the manager and gain a foothold for making changes, or she could retreat to the safety of isolation in the manse and continue as she had for most of her life. She saw in her mind’s eye the tears of the woman in the yard and knew her choice was made.

  “I believe both of you gentlemen misunderstand me.” She broadened her smile and fluttered her lashes.

  Somehow Vincent frowned without marring his classic appearance.

  “How so?” Brows raised, Carver sat back in his chair, linking his hands across his considerable belly.

  “I perhaps overstated conditions a bit, but I wished to ensure that you saw the same need I see for some charitable intervention with the poor souls who help to produce Alden cloth.”

  “I am certain the churches do all that is proper for any of our workers who are unthrifty enough to need assistance.”

  Still smiling, Mae closed her lips and silently gritted her teeth on her fury. What a hypocrite. Carver couldn’t possibly believe the pittance he paid to the manufactory employees was sufficient to support an ant, let alone a family. Lack of thrift had nothing to do with the deprivation the workers suffered.

  Beside her, she felt Lalie’s silent encouragement and Vincent’s elegant distaste.

  Mae gained control over her ire and fixed her gaze on Mr. Carver. She wanted him to know she was serious. “Nonetheless, I wish to provide routine charity for the workers with the greatest needs. I require two adjacent rooms. In one I will store supplies. The other will become a dispensary staffed with a physician to tend the workers’ health problems.”

  Mr. Carver straightened in his chair. “You are too generous, Miss Alden, and your largesse does you credit. Sadly, we have no space available on this property for such a purpose. Even if we had, the work continues without stop from sunup to sundown. Surely my assistant explained our system to provide for workers’ physical needs. They would have no time to seek out the charity you suggest.”

  “Mr. Fitzwalter did explain, and I observed the process. I must tell you I saw at least two unused rooms, and Mr. James W. Collins V, executor of my grandfather’s estate, has authorized me to make changes in the manufactory for the workers’ benefit. Further, I believe that you will find healthy, rested, well-fed employees produce better cloth faster than employees on the verge of exhaustion and starvation.”

  A tic formed in Carver’s chubby left cheek. “You sound like a reformer, Miss Alden, or worse, a unionizer. I warn you that spouting such philosophies will gain you no friends among the business men and Brahmins of Boston. If you bring those ideas into this manufactory, I will be compelled to bar you from the premises.”

  Had courage taken her too far? Mae forced herself to laugh, perhaps a shade too loudly. “Mr. Carver, I assure you I am no unionizer. I am simply a woman who wishes to aid the poor. Mr. Collins provided me with this letter.” She laid the paper on the desk, keeping her fingers on one corner. She wanted him to see the note but not remove it from her possession.

  He leaned forward and peered at the missive. “I see.”

  “So you will be able to provide two rooms for our charitable efforts?”

  “I will see what can be done. However, should I find the space you need, know that space is all the manufactory can provide. You must find the funds for supplies on your own.”

  Mae retrieved the letter. “Your kindness is exceptional,” she murmured ambiguously. “I’ll return later this week prepared to set up the dispensary and supply room.” She stood.

  The manager rose as well. “You’d best wait for me to send word to you that the rooms are ready.”

  Her smile had grown brittle, and her back ached with the tension of polite pretense. “I’m delighted you’ll have the rooms ready so quickly. I’ll see you on Friday.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it, evidently thinking silence the best course.

  “Good day, sir.”

  “Good day, Miss Alden, madam, sir.” He turned to his assistant. “See Miss Alden and her friends out, then return here immediately. I need to give orders regarding these rooms she is requesting.”

  • • •

  The assistant was back in the office within five minutes. “You wished to discuss the charity rooms, Mr. Carver?”

  “No. What I wish is for that woman never to set foot on this property again.”

  “But you told her—”

  “I know what I told her. She’s a rich, pampered woman with too much time on her hands. This manufactory cannot afford to furnish her with a playground for her charitable inclinations. I expect she will have forgotten the whole thing before the day is out. If she actually returns, I will be forced to allow her to play the lady bountiful. However, I will not allow anyone to foment discontent at my mill. You will make certain the workers know the cost of seeking help at her dispensary. Is that understood?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Now have this note delivered.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  The assistant left, and Carver strode to the credenza gracing the wall opposite his desk, where he poured himself a large glass of single malt. He hoped delaying tactics would be all he needed to keep the Alden woman away. However, he wasn’t a manager because he left things to chance.

  Sending a note alerting business owners and other managers to the potential risks Miss Alden represented was a small effort to prevent his activities from becoming public knowledge. Should drastic action prove necessary, he had no doubt that the note’s recipients would see things his way, and he could always take action independently to protect his personal interests.

  CHAPTER SIX

  James tossed his satchel and coat on the settee in his office. Weary beyond words from travel and legal wrangling on the case that had taken him to Philadelphia the day after he’d last seen Mae, he wanted nothing more than his supper and his bed.

  But before he could go to the Collins’s ancestral home, he must handle any crises that had arisen in his absence. Harry followed him into the office and set a tall stack of papers on the corner of the desk as James seated himself.

  “It’s late, Harry. Go home. You’ve been at the office twelve hours a day while I was gone. Spend tomorrow with your wife and family.”

  “I’ll go when the work’s done, sir, and not a minute before.”

  “I can’t convince you otherwise?”

  “No, sir. You pay me handsomely, and I provide handsome service in return. My wife understands that.”

  “Very well.” James reached for the paper at the top of the stack. “Give me a summary of your activities while I was in Philadelphia.”

  “I managed to complete all the work on the five wills we have in progress and have appointments to obtain signatures over the next week. I’ve set up the files for your two new contract cases as well as the proposals for Messrs. Lodge, Cabot and Kennedy. You have meetings with each of them during the next two weeks. Per your instructions, I provided Miss Alden with funds for her charitable efforts at Alden Cloth Works. All of your messages are here in this envelope.” Harry placed the packet on the desk beside the stack of papers.

  “You do a tremendous amount of work for me, and you do it well. Nonetheless, I have hopes of expanding soon, and we will need at least two additional clerks to handle the increased work. Tomorrow I want you to advertise for those positions and begin interviewing applicants. I don’t need to see all of them, only those men you feel are qualified and whom you are willing to train.”

  “I protest, sir. Is my service unsatisfactory?”

  “Your service is invaluable,” James said truthfully. “However, I will not change my mind on this. I may even need to take on a new partner. Would you prefer to have that man’s strange clerk in the office?”

  “I’ll place the advertisements tomorrow.”

  “Excellent. Are any of the messages urgent?” James began to
peruse the letter from a barrister requesting action on a lawsuit.

  “No. Although … well, it isn’t precisely urgent, but you may wish to call on Miss Alden at your earliest convenience.”

  James jerked his gaze from the papers. “What’s happened?”

  “It was last Friday, sir. I’m sure if anything were needed, Miss Alden would have contacted me. I have every confidence her recovery will be speedy.”

  James’s pulse slowed from a galloping panic to an irritated pounding. His jaw tightened, and his shoulders tensed. He forced himself to relax. Harry said Mae would recover, so panic was unwarranted.

  “What will Miss Alden recover from?” he asked, with much greater calm than he felt.

  “Oh I’m sorry, sir, I seem to get distracted easily of late. This past Friday, Miss Alden had a small accident on her return from the mill. I don’t know many details, save that Dr. Kerry was with her and gave her immediate care. Evidently, Mr. Damato escorted her home. She should be able to return to her charitable efforts within the week.”

  James told himself that his heart’s continued racing was simply a delayed reaction. Fear for Mae’s well being was unnecessary. His mind refused to listen, insisting he go to see for himself if she was indeed well.

  He returned the barrister’s letter to the top of the stack, then stood, moving toward his coat. “You know, Harry, I haven’t yet had my supper. Since I am certain your wife is preparing you a good meal, I insist you have it. She will not thank me if you delay waiting for me to return. Indeed, I doubt I will come back here tonight, so lock up after me, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Very well, Mr. Collins. Thank you.”

  The door was already closing behind James.

  • • •

  “Mr. Collins to see you, miss.”

  Her smile lit her entire face and brightened the evening gloom as a dozen gas lamps could not.

  Maybe she’s glad to see me. Perhaps she’s just happy to be with Damato and this other fellow. Ignoring the two men, James focused on Mae.

  “James.” She smiled, laid aside the fringe she was tatting and held her hands out to him. “I am sorry I cannot rise to greet you. You have no idea how tedious it is not to be able to move about freely. I am reduced to tatting for hours on end and am heartily sick of it.”

  He took the hands she offered, pressed them between his, released them and stood staring into her eyes.

  “Please join us.” She indicated a chair beside her. “Allow me to introduce Dr. Hugh Kerry and Mr. Vincent Damato. Gentlemen, Mr. James W. Collins V They stopped by to assure themselves I was mending well. Hugh says I may resume going about tomorrow.”

  James shook his head to clear it of the tantalizing thoughts that distracted him and nodded to the two men. “I’ve met Vincent at my aunt’s house. While I’ve heard much about Dr. Kerry, this is the first we’ve met in person.”

  Vincent nodded his greeting in return.

  Kerry offered his hand. “Collins.”

  James shook with the man and took the seat Mae offered. “How did you come to be chairbound?”

  She rolled her eyes, tossed one hand at the air and then glanced at her other guests. “The silliest thing, is it not, gentlemen?”

  “Of course,” agreed Damato, smiling.

  “No injury is silly,” opposed Kerry.

  “I twisted my ankle.”

  James widened his eyes in interest. “I suspect I agree with Dr. Kerry, but why don’t you tell me what happened.”

  “I invoked your authority with Mr. Carver, the manager at the Alden Cloth Works. When we arrived on Friday to set up the dispensary rooms, he forbade us entry to the property. I nearly lost hope of being able to establish any charity until Lalie reminded me of the note you signed for me. I had already shown Carver the note once before, so I pulled it out again. I informed him I would let you know he disobeyed your direct orders. He yielded, albeit with little grace, so Hugh and I along with several others proceeded to work very hard for the rest of the day preparing the rooms for today’s opening, which, he informs me, went very well.”

  “What has all this to do with your ankle?” prompted James.

  “Oh, well, when I left Friday and was in the midst of entering the carriage, some loose bricks fell from the mill façade. The horses took objection. The new coachman made a heroic effort to keep them still. Nonetheless, their movements jostled the vehicle, and I dropped backward to the curb. Had Hugh and Vincent not been seeing me off, I might have suffered more than a twisted ankle.”

  An odd mix of fear, relief, resentment and guilt curdled in James’s stomach. He should have been the one to break her fall. Hades, she should never have fallen. He’d been derelict in allowing her to traverse Boston’s streets without proper protection. “Where was your footman?”

  “He was assisting my maid to arrange the last of our supplies in the dispensary.”

  “He should have been with you.”

  “I was with Hugh and Vincent, so I ordered my footman to remain behind.”

  “Regardless, I’m certain Dr. Kerry is not in the habit of escorting women he scarcely knows to their carriages. Perhaps you should ceased these charitable activities.” It was the best warning he could manage with the doctor himself in the room. As for Damato, since the man was staying at Aunt Lydia’s home, James could hardly voice any doubts he had until he knew the man better.

  “James has a point,” Kerry agreed. “Perhaps your involvement should be less direct. Although I hope you will keep the dispensary open. Just from today’s events, I can tell the workers need the help.”

  “Charity is all well and good,” Vincent stated. “However, you must think of your safety first, Mae.”

  Mae’s smile fell, and her lower lip trembled.

  James felt like a cur harassing a kitten. “I won’t forbid you, but you need better escort. I will see to it at the first opportunity.”

  Her lip firmed. However, she lowered her gaze, and twisted her hands together. “Hugh is a perfectly respectable escort, and your own aunt approves of both him and Vincent. Please do not overreact. This could have happened to anyone.”

  “But it happened to you. You may be confident in their abilities to keep you safe, but since you had this accident, I am not. I would prefer not to make them responsible for your safety. If I hire guards, everyone will benefit.”

  I should be seeing to Mae’s every need, not these other men. Until she saw reason and accepted his proposal, he would use his authority as executor to keep her safe. Most likely this physician was an opportunist and a fortune hunter. Despite Aunt Lydia’s approbation, Damato might be cut from the same cloth.

  Hugh Kerry rose before either she or James could say more. “You will forgive me, Mae, but I must be going. I am on duty at the hospital tonight.”

  “I must be on my way as well.” Vincent rose beside Hugh. “I’ve already indulged myself too much and exceeded the proper length of an afternoon social call.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then, at the dispensary.” She lifted her hand in farewell.

  James waited until the men turned down the hallway and disappeared toward the street entrance.

  “Rather than wasting time, effort and money on hiring guards for me, James, you would be better employed seeing to the safety of the manufactory itself.” Her tone was quiet, almost shy.

  “You are right that repairs must be made. I’ll see to that as well. Bricks should not be so loose that they fall without cause.”

  She raised her head, and her smile returned, albeit somewhat dimmed. “I wish you would see to safety within the mill as well. The working conditions there are appalling.” She told him of the dangers she’d witnessed during her tour. “Which is the reason I sought out a physician to supervise the dispensary. Do you know that many of the more well-known doctors in Boston refuse to treat the poor? I was very lucky to have come upon Hugh. He’s young, for a doctor, though very knowledgeable.”

  “I’ve not
had occasion to consider which clients physicians choose to accept or reject.”

  “Well, I’ve had time to contemplate that and a large number of other matters over the past few days. I do so hate being idle. After conversing with Mr. Carver, the mill manager—a man I cannot like, no matter how I try—I’ve come to believe that as terrible as the working conditions of the poor are, the ignorance of the wealthy is worse. Something must be done to make the business owners and influential men of Boston take notice and act to improve conditions.”

  From years of dealing with the wealthy, Brahmins and barons alike, James could tell Mae she was doomed to disappointment. However, her enthusiasm was infectious. He’d already seen her cast down once this day; he could not bear it a second time. “I hope you will inform me of your plans.”

  “Certainly I shall. Although I doubt you’ll be interested in my social activities. The men I wish to persuade are great forces in society. I will be better seeking them at parties and teas than in their offices.”

  “Do you think it wise to socialize this soon after losing your grandfather?” He asked the question gently, intending no reproof, only wishing to keep her from society’s disapproval.

  “I’ve considered the impact of my mourning on my ability to participate in social events. However, your aunt Lydia convinced me that such concerns were groundless as long as I do not go marching about leading protests in the streets. I have her sponsorship, plus that of several other matrons to whom she introduced me when I attended a tea at her home last Thursday.”

  “You attended a tea? At Aunt Lydia’s home? Shortly after she returned from the continent she mentioned she might call on you, but she said nothing of inviting you to an entertainment.” What had he expected? He’d requested his aunt’s assistance changing Mae’s mind about his proposal. Being who she was, Lydia would see social events as the best form of assistance. However, Mae would meet other men at these events. Introducing her to his competition wasn’t what James had in mind at all.

  “She did exactly that. The day she came to call, she invited me to the tea and several future events. We had the most interesting conversation. Talking with your aunt inspired me to find a means to affect change at Alden Cloth Works.”