by Rue Allyn
Alarms clanged in James’s head. “I did hear you correctly a moment ago that Aunt Lydia did not encourage you to mount a demonstration?”
Mae laughed—a bell-like sound that enchanted him almost as much as the delicate flush humor brought to her cheeks. Oddly, he could not recall ever hearing her laugh.
“Of course not. Lydia struck me as a very sensible woman. When we talked during her visit to the manse and again at her tea, she began to understand my ambitions. She insisted on helping me gain support from society. She is responsible for my introduction to Hugh and Vincent, as well as the wives of those Brahmins and industry barons whom I wish to educate. Your sister, Lalie, and our friends Cressida and Vincent have all agreed to seek out volunteers to help. I already told you of Hugh’s involvement.”
The alarms quieted somewhat, and James relaxed a bit. Unlike those Anthony and Cady-Stanton women, Mae was showing restraint by seeking support among friends first and allowing word to spread naturally. “I know so little of Dr. Kerry. Tell me more about him. I’d like to hear about Damato’s interest in the dispensary as well. He did not strike me as the type of man to engage in such pursuits.”
James worried about the men’s motives. Though he’d met Damato coming and going at his aunt’s house, he did not know the man well and knew Kerry only from Lalie and Victoria’s remarks. Given Mae’s circumstances, he was not certain he could trust Lydia’s usually excellent judgment.
He would hire Pinkerton. That excellent agency, already searching for Kiera Alden, would furnish a complete investigation of all Mae’s acquaintances. Still, James needed to know how enthralled Mae was so he would be better prepared to deal with her disappointment when Kerry and Damato proved to be the ne’er-do-wells James suspected.
“You probably know that Vincent and Cressida are guests of your aunt Lydia’s. I much prefer Cressida’s company to her brother’s. However, I can hardly enjoy one and neglect the other. I suspect that Vincent’s interest is out of sympathy for his sister. They are in mourning for the loss of his wife several months ago. So his activities are somewhat curtailed.”
James nodded, privately pleased that the man held little appeal for her. Nonetheless, he would order the investigation. No effort was too great when it came to Mae Alden’s safety. “And Dr. Kerry?”
“Hugh—that is, Dr. Kerry—came highly recommended, first by Lydia, then by several of the well-known physicians whom I initially sought out for assistance. He graduated from Harvard Medical College and has organized charitable efforts at the Boston Dispensary. When I met with Bishop Fitzpatrick and he, too, endorsed Dr. Kerry, I was certain Hugh was the perfect choice to head the dispensary at the Alden Cloth Works.”
“You visited a Catholic bishop?”
“Fear not, I’ve no intention to convert.”
“Then why?”
“Many of the workers at the mill are Catholic. I sought the bishop’s support so they would not fear to accept the charity of a Protestant.”
The thought she’d given to her charitable efforts impressed James. He could easily envision sharing his professional quandaries with her over a dinner table. Whoever she chose to marry would be a lucky man. More and more he wished to be that man.
“I am delighted Dr. Kerry is proving satisfactory. I will enjoy furthering our acquaintance.”
She beamed at James. “Thank you. Perhaps you would come to the mill this Thursday. You may inspect our progress, then visit Dr. Kerry and the other volunteers. Afterward, we can meet with the mill manager to discuss additional changes with him.”
“I’ve only just returned to town, so I’m hardly able to drop everything.”
“Please say you’ll come?”
Opportunities to spend time with Mae were scarce, and he wanted her to know he supported her. In addition, he would have the chance to assess Dr. Kerry in action. James decided on the spot that he would have Harry rearrange his appointments. “How can I refuse?”
“Thank you.”
“You will forgive me, if I must be on my way.” He cast a glance to the gathering dark outside the window.
Her glowing smile dimmed a bit once more. “By all means, it has grown late.” She extended her hand to him. “I look forward to seeing you on Thursday.”
“Until then.” He clasped her hand and bowed over it, then took his leave.
• • •
The afternoon before the proposed dispensary visit, James sat at his desk penning a response to a request for action on a lawsuit. He’d been working since early morning to clear the last of the stack of papers. “Some gentlemen to see you, Mr. Collins.”
He looked up. He’d been concentrating so intently, he hadn’t heard the door open. “Bring them in, Harry. Then pour a glass of cognac for each of us.”
“Yes, sir. This way, gentlemen.”
Three men followed the clerk into the office and took seats, two on the settee and one very thick and vaguely familiar gentleman slouched into the Hepplewhite opposite James’s desk.
When everyone had a glass and the door closed behind Harry, James looked at his guests squarely. Each met his gaze with a stern and an unwavering stare.
“To what do I owe this visit, gentlemen?” He smiled, though he suspected from the expressions of his guests that smiles would soon desert him.
The thick man took a large sip, smacked his lips, set his glass aside and straightened his spine. “We’ve come with a protest, Mr. Collins. As the executor of the Alden estate, we strongly urge you to take action to see that Miss Alden ceases all activity on or near Alden Cloth Works.”
James banished his smile in favor of an expression that made opposition witnesses quail. “What business of yours are Miss Alden’s activities?”
“None, sir. However, Alden Cloth Works is my business.”
Now he remembered meeting the man shortly after Carlton Alden’s funeral. “You are the manager, Mr. Carver.”
Carver took a kerchief and wiped the sheen from his forehead and nose. “I am. Miss Alden is disrupting the smooth running of the mill and causing disquiet among the workers. Worse, she daily harangues me with unreasonable requests, which would take valuable time from my work were I even inclined to grant them.”
“Hmmm. I’d like the details of those requests, in writing, if you please. Now how are you two gentlemen concerned in this business?”
“I am Mr. Albert, manager of the Cabot warehouses, and I have come to support Mr. Carver in his request. Well intentioned or not, Miss Alden’s actions are fomenting unrest among workers all along the Charles River. Just this past Saturday, I was confronted with a deputation of low-class men from the warehouses demanding that Mr. Cabot and his partners provide medical assistance on the premises.”
The request did not seem so unreasonable to James, but he could not say for certain as he did not know the details of the Cabot warehousing enterprise. Since he hoped to gain the Cabot legal affairs for Collins & Collins, he held his tongue. “And you, sir?”
“Mr. Welther, if you please, foreman of the Kennedy paper mill. I’ve had similar complaints and demands from a number of workers. For the good of all, you must compel Miss Alden to halt her activities. The manufactory area of the Charles River is not a safe place for any woman of good breeding.”
That did not sit well with James. “Are you threatening Miss Alden?”
A flush colored Carver’s face, and he looked everywhere but at James.
Welther , however, appeared both surprised and appalled. “No indeed, sir. However, I would not permit my wife or daughters to come and go at will in that area. I am concerned for Miss Alden’s safety as much as I am concerned for peace among Mr. Kennedy’s employees.”
“To say nothing of the smooth running of Alden Cloth Works,” added Carver.
“Well enough. Gentlemen, Miss Alden is an independent woman of legal age. I am executor of her grandfather’s estate, not her guardian. What precisely is it you would have me do?”
“Cease in your
support of her,” Carver insisted. “Almost two weeks ago, Miss Alden requested a tour of mill. I regret that she was not turned away, but I was not present. My assistant believed she would be repelled by the dirt, grime and rudeness of the low folk working there. She is a most peculiar woman, since she chose to blame me and perhaps her grandfather for conditions not of our making. I had returned to my office during her tour, and she visited me there, demanding that I have the machinery modified, cease employing children and provide medical assistance to the workers. Those demands would beggar the millworks, and I refused out of hand. She then insisted I give her rooms on the mill premises so that she could provide medical services herself. She also presented me with a letter, signed by you, requesting that I assist her in every way possible.
“Since you stand in the stead of my employer, I could not legitimately refuse. I gave her two rooms and informed her that would be the extent of my participation in her so-called charitable activities.”
“She is one woman.” James swept his visitors with an encompassing glance. “I doubt very much the situation is as dire as you paint it.”
“Not yet,” objected Welther. “But in the short time she has operated her dispensary, workers all along the Charles have begun making demands. I do not doubt that before long we will have riots or worse. I cannot believe you would wish Mr. Alden’s granddaughter to be caught up in a reforming movement. We already have problems from the Cady-Stanton woman and her ilk.”
James shuttered his gaze and stood. He had no wish for these men to see how their talk alarmed him. “I will make certain Miss Alden is aware of your concerns, and discover if there is room for compromise.”
The men rose as well.
“Compromise is not an option, if you wish Alden Cloth Works and every other business enterprise in Boston to remain profitable,” muttered Carver.
“We shall see. Allow me to pursue the matter, and I will communicate my results as soon as I may. Now if you will excuse me. I must be in court shortly. Good day, sirs.”
“Good day to you, Mr. Collins.” Carver bowed stiffly.
Albert and Welther gave their farewells also, then marched out the door behind Carver.
James dropped back into his chair. The situation was rife with potential disasters, all of them bad for Mae. Welther and Albert seemed reasonable men, but he hadn’t liked Carver at all. The man had fidgeted impatiently throughout the discussion of Mae’s safety.
Nonetheless, if Mae truly was the source of unrest among Charles River workers in general, James would have to curtail her activities. It was a good thing he had committed to that visit tomorrow, and even better if he could persuade Mae to drop her onsite charitable activities in favor of the more refined—and no doubt safer—pursuit of educating the rich for the benefit of the city’s poor.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Heart fluttering, Mae entered the carriage the morning she was to meet James at Alden Cloth Works. She could not decide if her excitement was because she would see James or the anticipation of making a difference in the lives of others. She enjoyed the busyness of her charitable activities, but prior to Grandfather’s passing, she hadn’t felt such eagerness. During his lifetime, she dared go no farther from the manse than the rectory. She’d mentioned even those excursions as little possible for fear Grandfather would discover her joy in teaching the poor and rescind his permission.
Now she’d gone not only to the mill but ventured into the society he’d condemned as evil and licentious. The worst she suffered was a turned ankle. Perhaps courage had its benefits, and she need not be so afraid any longer. Perhaps if James openly acknowledged her as an active, effective female, she might believe him when he said he did not see her as an object of pity.
Upon arriving, she found the door ajar on the rooms at mill. Certain the door had been locked when the last person left the previous week, she pushed it open farther, stepped within and could not suppress a cry of dismay.
“What’s wrong, miss?”
“Are you all right, Miss Alden?”
The maid and footman escorting her spoke in unison.
“I’m fine, but who made this mess?” She stared at the litter of torn clothing, spilled food and broken medicine containers. The freshly painted walls were stained with a foul-smelling concoction and words she’d never seen were scrawled in thick, black letters opposite the door.
The servants peered around her. Behind her, she heard the shuffle of footsteps and growing murmurs.
“Don’t go in,” she warned. Broken glass and who knew what else posed a danger to anyone who entered.
“Shall I fetch the manager?” her footman asked.
Mae nodded and heard him clear his way through a gathering crowd. The waste appalled her, but she worried more that James would not allow the estate to bear the expense of replacements and repairs.
Her man returned sooner than expected and handed her a note. “The manager wouldn’t come, miss, but he did give me a message for you.”
Dr. Kerry arrived at that moment. While he examined the damage, she read the manager’s message.
My Dear Miss Alden,
I remind you that I am running a manufactory. I told you when you requested the rooms that I had no time to assist you, and I will not. If you were so careless as to leave your doors unlocked, you can hardly hold me responsible for the actions of drunken workers irate at your interference in their lives…
She crumpled the note in her fist. She didn’t need to read the rest to know that the manager would not only withhold help, he would encourage her to leave the premises forever. How dare Carver blame the workers? How dare he accuse her of carelessness and leaving the door unlocked? In her mind, she vented her ire on his oily pate.
“Will we be able to fix this?”
Dr. Kerry’s gentle question did much to help Mae regain her calm and determination.
“We will find a way, Hugh. With luck and a bit of work, we can have the dispensary open again soon. I still have your original list of medicines and equipment. We will restock from that. Fortunately, Mr. Collins is…”
“Mr. Collins is what?”
Mae nearly staggered with relief on hearing James’s voice. She turned to face him, absently noticing the two burly men who lingered a few steps behind the attorney.
“I was telling Hugh you were to visit our dispensary today to inspect our progress and discuss further improvements to the mill.”
“From what I can see,” James said, as he cast a glance around the dispensary, “your progress has been impeded. What happened?”
“I wish I knew.” Mae sighed. “The door was locked when I left last week.”
“You’d suffered an injury, are you certain?”
“I refused to allow the carriage to leave until my footman took my key and locked the door.”
“That’s true,” Hugh agreed. “She was a most difficult patient.”
James nodded, acknowledging the doctor’s comment. “Is yours the only key?”
“No one has a key but me and the manager, Mr. Carver.”
“Are you certain?” Hugh asked. “There may be keys that you don’t know of.”
“I will check with the manager,” James said sternly. “Whether this dispensary continues or not, the property must be secure.”
“Do not say you consider closing the dispensary when we’ve scarcely begun to help people.” Fearful of so many things—James’s anger, the mill workers suffering, once again being stuck in the manse—she spoke in a trembling whisper.
“It might be best, Mae. Your recent accident and now this vandalism suggest the manufactory—indeed, this entire area of the Charles River—is far from safe. I could not forgive myself if some more serious incident occurred.”
Hugh frowned. “I must agree with Miss Alden about the dispensary,” he said. “The few workers I’ve seen are seriously underfed and suffer from a variety of ailments that may well be caused by the machinery and materials in their jobs.”
; Grateful for the support, Mae gathered her courage. She could not fall back into old habits now. “James, if I cannot persuade you to continue funding the dispensary from the estate, I will find the means to proceed without it.”
His stare hardened. “Since your safety is my responsibility, you must allow me to be the best judge of the circumstances.”
Inwardly she quailed before his steely gaze, but she would not be deterred. Drawing herself up, she stepped toward him. “I have every respect for your responsibilities. However, I cannot allow suffering to continue when I can prevent it, especially when my family was the cause. This dispensary will remain open.”
James studied her for a long moment. “Very well, but I insist you have guards with you at all times.”
“That’s hardly necessary.”
He raised a hand, forestalling further argument. With his other hand he indicated the men lingering in the background. “I’ve brought with me Mr. Alvin and Mr. Tolley. Gentlemen, this is Miss Alden. I charge you with seeing to her safety at all times.”
“Yes sir.” The pair spoke as one.
Alvin had blond hair, blue eyes and sported a straw boater, where Tolley had brown hair, brown eyes, and held his brown derby in his hands.
“I’m delighted to meet you, gentlemen. However, Mr. Collins is mistaken. Dr. Kerry is more than sufficient escort.” She’d had enough of being shielded and would not return to hiding whether behind walls or bodyguards.
Hugh shifted closer. “I must agree with Mr. Collins on this subject, Miss Alden. There may well be times when I am not available or am occupied in the dispensary. It would be unkind of you to cause us both to worry about you.”
“Oh. I had not thought about that. I’m sorry. Of course, if it will reassure you I’ll accept the escort.” She might prefer otherwise, but she would not be churlish or thoughtless of others. “Now about the keys?”
James nodded. “I shall make certain no other keys are available, save yours and Mr. Carver’s. If I cannot achieve that, I will have the locks changed immediately and place all keys in your care.”