‘‘She’s not a slave. I don’t own her.’’
‘‘You own her for five years. She can’t leave this place without fear of being sought after by the police. Aside from being five years rather than a lifetime, how is that different from slavery? Your cousin bought five years of that girl’s life just as my father buys slaves for a lifetime. And Kiara tells me that in Ireland and England, indentured servants usually are owned for a lifetime because their owners claim costs for their room and board that exceed their ability to pay off the cost of their contract.’’
‘‘Well, it was kind of the girl to share that information. Perhaps I should begin keeping a tally of costs for her room and board. I may be able to retain the two of them longer than I anticipated.’’
Jasmine silently berated herself. Why hadn’t she listened to Nolan’s advice? Instead of picking a fight, she should have used this moment to her advantage. Perhaps she still could. ‘‘When Dr.
Hartzfeld told me the news, I realized you had been correct in sending Mammy back to The Willows. I didn’t notice how much she had aged until we returned to Mississippi. And now, with my confinement, I’m going to need more assistance than usual. I doubt she would have been able to provide the help I’ll need.’’
Bradley’s mood lightened at Jasmine’s rare and unexpected praise. ‘‘You see? I actually do know what is best for you. Kiara is young and energetic. She’ll be able to provide all the help you need.’’
‘‘And if she does well, perhaps we should reward her efforts.’’
‘‘Of course,’’ he obligingly replied. ‘‘Once you’ve finished your tea, I think you should lie down and rest.’’
‘‘No need. I’m feeling fine.’’
‘‘I thought you just agreed that your husband knows what is best for you. I must get back to work, but I’ll instruct Kiara to accompany you upstairs for a nap. I don’t want anything happening that would adversely affect the baby. You need to take proper care of yourself. When I return home this evening, I don’t want to hear that you’ve failed to follow my advice.’’ Although he was smiling, there was a warning edge to his voice. He expected to be obeyed.
Bradley hastened back to his office with the packet of information from Captain Harmon and the letter from his father-in-law tucked into a leather pouch attached to his saddle. He had planned to ride the chestnut mare today, but the Irish boy was busy currying the animal when Bradley arrived at the stable, so he’d taken the black gelding. Bradley was pleased the boy appeared to have a genuine fondness for the mare. The horse was a beauty and he wanted the animal to receive only the finest care. Bradley had paid much more than he could afford to spend on a horse, but he’d been unable to negotiate a lesser price.
Jasmine’s news that he would soon become a father caused Bradley to remain in a state of euphoria throughout most of the afternoon. But as the day wore on, his thoughts returned to the satchel. He decided to examine Malcolm Wainwright’s letter and the packet from Captain Harmon before leaving his office. Captain Harmon’s information consisted of his usual logs and reports, and after skimming the material, Bradley set it aside to open the other letter.
He carefully read the missive, his euphoria now replaced by an unrelenting irritation. In the letter Malcolm expressed disappointment in his son-in-law. He had gone so far as to set out each payment received, those that had arrived late, and those that remained due. The letter made it abundantly clear that Malcolm had expected to receive a payment when Jasmine visited The Willows.
Bradley paced across his office as he began reading the letter aloud, his irritation growing as he put voice to Malcolm’s words.
‘‘‘Not only did you fail to send a payment with Jasmine when she came to visit us, I have yet to receive the three payments due to the Wainwrights. You are aware I did not wish to enter into an arrangement for installment payments, but because you are my son-in-law, I agreed to do so.’ ’’ Bradley’s thoughts traveled back to the conversation he’d had with Malcolm. It had taken a great deal of persuasion to convince the older man that such business dealings were a common practice with the Associates. He had carefully explained the Corporation preferred conducting their business on the installment method in order to maintain a greater cash flow. As a businessman himself, Malcolm could understand the difficulty that would be involved if the Associates were required to pay all of the cotton growers simultaneously. Consequently, he had yielded to Bradley’s request.
However, Malcolm’s letter was filled with undeniable disillusionment and anger.
Bradley returned to his desk and pulled out a piece of stationery. No doubt he would need to send funds, but not until he received another payment from the Associates. He quickly penned a letter to Malcolm explaining he would be traveling to Boston for a meeting of the Associates next month and the funds would be forwarded to Mississippi at that time.
CHAPTER • 19
JASMINE’S ATTENTION waned as Bradley droned on with his list of innumerable instructions she was to follow in his absence. He painstakingly advised he would be traveling to Boston the next day to complete business matters for both the Associates and his shipping enterprise. Jasmine cared little why he was going. However, the length of his stay was of paramount interest. In her estimation, the longer he was gone, the better. Since her return from Mississippi, Bradley’s moods had alternated between overbearing attentiveness and brooding irritability, with no apparent logic. Once he finished his tiresome oratory, he advised his wife he would be out of town for a minimum of a week, perhaps longer, depending on the progress of his business matters. Although she dared not reveal her feelings, Jasmine was secretly delighted.
She had noticed the servants, particularly Kiara, gave her husband a wide berth when he was in the house. Obviously, Jasmine wasn’t the only recipient of his ill humor. Likely the entire household was going to take pleasure in his departure.
He handed Jasmine the list of duties he’d earlier enumerated, along with a similar list for each of the servants, kissed her farewell, and finally took his leave. As the sound of his carriage grew distant, she leaned against the door and relaxed against the hard, cool wood. She knew she would not miss her husband.
I cannot love him. There is nothing worthy of love. Jasmine sighed and closed her eyes. How very different her life was from the dreams she’d once had, little-girl dreams of living in the South with her own plantation house to run and a loving husband to take pride in her efforts. She touched a hand to her stomach and thought of the child that grew there. She didn’t want Bradley’s children, but this baby was also her own. She couldn’t very well disregard that fact.
I can hardly punish the child because I do not love his or her father.
She put aside her disparaging thoughts and entered the parlor, where Kiara was carefully dusting the furniture she had dusted only the day before.
‘‘Excuse me boldness, but will the master be gone for very long, ma’am?’’
‘‘At least a week.’’ Jasmine eyed the busy girl. She couldn’t be much older than sixteen—maybe seventeen. ‘‘Sit down and let’s visit.’’
‘‘Excuse me? You’re wantin’ me to sit and visit in the parlor?’’
The girl looked appalled at the idea.
‘‘I thought we were becoming friends. I visit with you when you’re helping me dress or fixing my hair.’’
‘‘That’s different than sittin’ in the parlor like I’m company. I don’t think Mr. Bradley would be likin’ to see such a thing.’’
‘‘Well, he’s gone to Boston so we need not worry. I’m in charge now and I want you to sit and visit.’’
‘‘Yes, ma’am,’’ she said, perching on the edge of her chair like a bird poised to take flight. ‘‘What is it ya’re wantin’ to hear from me?’’
‘‘You remember I told you my mother was ill and couldn’t return to Lowell with me?’’
‘‘Aye.’’
‘‘I’ve been thinking about how much I miss my
mother. My longing to be with her has made me realize how difficult life must be for you and Paddy. It’s difficult to imagine all you two have suffered.’’
‘‘We’ve suffered no more than most of the Irish. And when I’m missin’ me mother the most, I try to remember all the good times instead of dwellin’ on when the famine struck us down.’’
Kiara stared out the window as though she were in a trance that carried her back to the grassy hills and valleys of her homeland.
‘‘We always worked hard, but our house was filled with love and plenty of laughter. Even when food got scarce, we made do for a while with sellin’ lace. But when times got really bad, me da fell into a state o’ sadness, the likes of which I ain’t never seen before—and hope I never see again. He took the few coins me ma had saved back for thread and spent them on ale.’’
‘‘Your mother made lace to help support you?’’
Kiara looked at Jasmine as though she were a stranger. Obviously the Irish girl’s thoughts remained focused upon Ireland and memories of a happier time. ‘‘Aye, both of us. She taught me how to make the lace. Lots of the women learned so as to help feed their families. The nuns at the convent taught some of the girls in our village, and they taught others. They sold the lace for us—to the wealthy English landowners. Their ladies are very fond of Irish lace.’’
‘‘I’d like to see some of your handiwork, Kiara. Do you have some of your lace you can show me?’’
‘‘No, I had but a wee piece left, and I pinned it on me mother’s dress when we buried her. I thought it only fittin’ since we could na give her a proper burial.’’
‘‘What a lovely idea. I’m sure she would have been pleased.’’
Kiara pointed toward Jasmine’s sewing basket. ‘‘Do ya know how to make lace, ma’am?’’
‘‘No, but I’d be delighted to have you show me. We could go into town and purchase the necessary supplies, if you like. I don’t want to place another burden upon you.’’
‘‘Making even a small piece o’ lace takes many hours, ma’am.
Some find it tedious to finish only an inch or two after hours and hours of work. But I love keepin’ me hands busy with the thread.
Watching as a piece of thread turns into a delicate piece o’ lace is truly a thing of beauty.’’
‘‘Then we must get you some thread. I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon, but we could go into town after supper tonight.’’
‘‘The shops are open for business in the evenin’, ma’am?’’
‘‘Yes, to accommodate the girls working in the mills. The shop owners know they must remain open if they’re going to attract business from the mill workers. Grandmother told me the shopkeepers have maintained evening hours since the very first stores opened in Lowell.’’
‘‘I never heard o’ such a thing, but if you’re wantin’ to go, I’d be ’appy to go along.’’
‘‘Good! Then it’s agreed.’’
Kiara cleared her throat and her expression grew tense. Jasmine wondered at the look but had no time to ask before Kiara questioned her. ‘‘Ma’am, forgive me bein’ so bold, but I’m wonderin’ if we could buy a wee bit of material for some aprons. I’ve only got the one dress and I’m washin’ it out every night, but—’’ ‘‘You’ve only got one dress?’’ Jasmine asked in disbelief. ‘‘Why didn’t you say so sooner?’’
‘‘I’ve never had more than one dress at a time, ma’am. I can make do just fine with it, especially if I have an apron or two. Lord Palmerston’s lady servant said she did na have time to sew me or Paddy any clothes afore we left Ireland. She did na pack any material in our trunk either, although she had plenty in her sewin’ room—tightfisted, she was. Fact is, she packed us a trunk, but most of the contents were for yar husband . . . not clothes for me and Paddy.’’
‘‘Well, I cannot allow you to make do with that. We’ll buy materials for you and for Paddy. Do you sew?’’
‘‘Aye. I can do very fine work, if I do say so meself,’’ Kiara replied.
‘‘Very well. Make a list of what you’ll need in order to create two—no, three—work dresses. Better yet, let’s buy serviceable material for three work dresses and two gowns of better quality for special occasions.’’
‘‘Oh, but for sure I couldn’t be lettin’ ya do that, ma’am. An apron or two will be just fine.’’
‘‘Nonsense. You’re my personal maid—you mustn’t look dowdy,’’ Jasmine insisted, trying her best to sound authoritative.
‘‘Oh, I hadn’t thought of it that way,’’ Kiara said, touching the top of her frayed collar.
‘‘Don’t fret. This will be fun. We’ll go and purchase everything you need. Then, tomorrow you’ll spend the day sewing instead of worrying about household duties. We’ll get materials for Paddy as well, so make a list of what you’ll need to make the boy at least three shirts and two pairs of trousers.’’
‘‘For sure I don’t know what to say,’’ Kiara murmured.
Jasmine smiled. ‘‘Say nothing at all.’’
Kiara jumped up from her chair, obviously anxious to hasten back to her duties. But before she could escape, Jasmine grasped the girl’s hand. ‘‘Are you happy here, Kiara? I know you’d be happier in Ireland if you could have stayed, but are you reasonably comfortable here with us?’’
She hesitated briefly. ‘‘I’m very fond of you, ma’am, and this is a lovely house. Sure and it’s finer than anyplace I ever hoped to live in. And Paddy’s happy workin’ with the horses.’’
‘‘And Master Bradley?’’ Jasmine inquired.
Kiara’s eyes grew as cloudy as the fog-layered moors of Ireland.
‘‘He can be a bit frightenin’ at times, ma’am, but I’ll not be sayin’ a single bad word about yar husband. I’m just thankful the two of us are alive and together. Now, I best be gettin’ back to me chores.
Cook will be needin’ me soon.’’
Jasmine nodded. She wouldn’t force Kiara to talk about Bradley— she didn’t need to. The girl’s fears were evident.
‘‘They’ve quite a selection of thread, ma’am. A bit thicker than I like, but we can make do even if it’s not quite so fine.’’
‘‘Let’s take a look over here,’’ Jasmine suggested while leading the way through the emporium, which was beginning to hum with activity. Mill girls, anxious to see the new merchandise advertised in the newspaper, swarmed into the store in groups of five and six, their chatter carrying throughout the store, while several were overcome with fits of coughing.
‘‘Mrs. Paxton, did you get your shipment of Dr. Horatio’s Spice of Life?’’ one of the girls inquired.
‘‘Yes, indeed. We received a full shipment this morning, and I’ve already placed another order. It seems all of you girls are beginning to use Dr. Horatio’s rejuvenating spirits. Before long, I won’t be able to keep up with the demand.’’
‘‘You should try it, Mrs. Paxton. It helps my cough and boosts my energy. Ask any of the girls who have used it. Why, it’s not only given me more energy, I’ve found it makes my life more pleasant.’’
‘‘What she says is true,’’ another girl agreed. ‘‘Before I would leave the weaving room feeling completely exhausted, what with the hot, damp rooms and not being able to open the windows for a bit of fresh air. Then I began taking Spice of Life, and within a day or two, I was feeling like a new person—full of energy, not coughing nearly so much, and enjoying myself again.’’
Jasmine approached the counter where the girls were standing and picked up a bottle of the cathartic. ‘‘Forgive me for interrupting, but did I overhear you say you’ve found remedial success with this product?’’
‘‘Absolutely! Why, the medicinal value of Dr. Horatio’s spirits is unsurpassed. Those of us working in the mills have found it extremely beneficial. Of course, we’re required to work in conditions that you aren’t likely to endure. Employment in those mills can drain the very life out of you, but after only a few doses of Dr.
Horatio’s, I feel wonderful again.’’
Jasmine held on to the bottle. ‘‘Thank you for taking time to explain the benefits of the product. I believe I may purchase a bottle,’’ Jasmine remarked as she watched the girl purchase four bottles of the remedy before leaving the store.
‘‘Are ya feelin’ poorly, missus, that ya think ya need that mixture?’’ Kiara inquired.
‘‘I’ve just not been able to regain my strength. Perhaps this will help.’’
Kiara shook her head. ‘‘I’m guessin’ there’s nothin’ but a dose of whiskey and water, along with a bit o’ flavorin’ and perhaps a few herbs in that bottle, missus. Ya’re feelin’ tired because of yar condition. It’s just the growin’ babe sappin’ yar energy.’’
‘‘I’ve talked to other ladies, and they’ve been able to maintain their normal routine without this constant weariness. I think Dr.
Horatio’s mixture might be worth a try. Besides, were the contents merely whiskey, I doubt whether these girls would be having such impressive results. The fact that Mrs. Paxton can’t keep it in stock is evidence of its benefit.’’
‘‘Mr. McCorkey could na keep enough ale in the pub on payday either, but that did na mean the ale was helpin’ them what was drinkin’ it.’’ Kiara held the bottle at arm’s length and examined the label, which was emblazoned with the picture of a distinguished-looking bearded man. ‘‘I’m thinkin’ your Dr. Horatio’s elixir is no different than Mr. McCorkey’s ale.’’
Jasmine took back the bottle. ‘‘And I’m certain Mrs. Paxton wouldn’t sell alcoholic spirits. I know for a fact that she’s an upstanding member of the Lowell Temperance Union and extremely opposed to the use of intoxicants.’’ Jasmine moved closer to Kiara and lowered her voice. ‘‘My grandmother told me that Mrs. Paxton’s father was an alcoholic and very mean to her.
Furthermore, Mrs. Paxton blames his early death upon his drinking habits. Under the circumstances, I don’t think you’d find her willing to sell alcoholic substances.’’
Kiara handed a bobbin of thread to Jasmine without further comment regarding Dr. Horatio’s Spice of Life. ‘‘I believe this thread will do nicely.’’
Tracie Peterson & Judith Miller - [Lights of Lowell 01] Page 21