‘‘You forget I capably hosted a tea for you and discussed many issues concerning the mills. If you’ll recall, there were many words of praise for your efforts on behalf of the Corporation during that gathering. I related all that information to you, along with talk of the speedup of the looms. Have you forgotten?’’
Bradley scowled, and it only served to make his appearance even less appealing to Jasmine. ‘‘You believe acting as my hostess on one occasion is what I expect of you? You think gathering information at a single meeting is all that I need from you? If so, you’re even more of a detriment than I imagined.’’
‘‘I thought you would be pleased,’’ she whispered. She folded her hands and lowered her gaze.
‘‘I would be pleased if you would attend these functions yourself rather than relying upon bits and pieces randomly gathered by your grandmother.’’
Jasmine swallowed hard. She didn’t want to cry. ‘‘I’ll invite the ladies for tea next week. I promise.’’
Bradley grunted and pushed away from the table. ‘‘You look as though you’re not taking proper care of yourself. You’re pale and appear sickly. Are you attempting to injure my unborn son in an effort to cause me distress?’’
Jasmine looked up in disbelief. ‘‘How could you think I would do such a thing? I want this child even more than you do.’’
He didn’t answer. Instead, he stomped out of the room without another word. She remained in the parlor all evening until she finally accepted the fact that he was not going to join her.
I don’t understand any of this, she thought. Even when I think I’m doing the proper thing—the pleasing thing—he destroys it before my very eyes. Destroys me. Jasmine looked at her needlework and realized she’d hopelessly knotted the thread. She tried diligently to free the tangles, murmuring a prayer as she did.
‘‘Father, I don’t know what to do. I’m not even sure that my prayers are being heard. Something is very wrong here, and I don’t know how to make it right. Please help me.’’
The threads refused to budge. Exasperated, Jasmine set aside her handiwork. ‘‘I might as well go to bed,’’ she muttered, wondering what had become of her husband.
Gathering her skirts, she went upstairs to prepare for bed. As she walked past her dressing table, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Bradley was right. There were circles under her eyes, and her complexion was pasty. She searched through the drawers in the large dresser until she felt the smooth glass bottles filled with Dr.
Horatio’s Spice of Life elixir. Kiara had hidden the remedy beneath her undergarments in the bottom drawer. Since Kiara was the one to lay out Jasmine’s clothing, she probably presumed that Jasmine would never dig through the drawers for any reason.
Jasmine pulled out one of the bottles and unstopped the cork.
Taking a long drink, she started at the taste. She frowned and looked at the bottle. Kiara had suggested it was most likely nothing more than herbs and whiskey. Jasmine had once tasted brandy at Christmas and she had to admit the flavor was somewhat similar.
Especially the way it burned her throat.
‘‘I can bear the bitter taste,’’ she told herself, ‘‘if it will give me the energy I need.’’ She slipped into her nightgown, climbed into bed, and pulled the covers up to her chin. Unable to sleep, she tossed and turned, waiting to hear Bradley enter the door to his adjoining room. But, as was becoming his habit, it was late into the night before Jasmine heard his door unlatch.
When Bradley departed the next morning without bidding her farewell, Jasmine assumed he was still angry. However, she was pleased to find Kiara’s mood had improved when she went downstairs later that morning. And by the time Sunday arrived, Kiara actually seemed her old self.
Jasmine pulled on her kid gloves as they neared the front door.
‘‘I hope you don’t mind leaving early this morning. I’d like to surprise Grandmother and attend church with her since Bradley is in Boston.’’
‘‘Yar husband will na be unhappy with yar decision to attend the Methodist church?’’
‘‘Bradley attends the Episcopal church because that’s where he believes it’s best to be seen, not because he has deep beliefs in the church—or in God, for that matter. He ought not take issue if I miss one Sunday.’’
‘‘We should arrive in time for Paddy and me to attend St. Patrick’s with Bridgett. At least I’m hopin’ we will. It will be good to be goin’ to church again.’’
‘‘You could ride to town with us on Sundays and attend every week if you like. I had no idea you wanted to attend church, Kiara. I’ll speak to Bradley upon his return.’’
‘‘No. Please do na speak to your husband. Things is fine just as they are.’’
Jasmine thought she detected fear in the girl’s eyes, yet why would her suggestion cause misgivings? ‘‘I’ll do as you ask, but should you change your mind, please let me know.’’
‘‘That I will, ma’am, and I’ll be thankin’ ya for abidin’ by me wishes.’’
Once Kiara and Paddy had been delivered, the carriage driver followed Jasmine’s directions to the Methodist church on Suffolk Street. Their timing would be just right.
Hurrying from the carriage, Jasmine climbed the steps to the open door. She stood in the rear of the church and scanned the heads of the worshipers, seeking her grandmother’s perfectly coifed cotton-white hair. Her eyes sparkled with delight when she finally located the familiar sight. By the time she reached her grandmother’s side, a bright smile was tugging at her lips.
‘‘May I join you?’’ she whispered.
Alice embraced her before scooting down the pew. ‘‘I’m so pleased you’re here,’’ Alice whispered in return.
Jasmine’s fingers clenched around the hard oak wood of the church pew as Reverend Wells announced he would preach from the book of Job. ‘‘There is much we can learn from Job’s trials and tribulations. Job was a man who had everything men seek: he had good health; a good wife; children, both sons and daughters; an abundance of land and animals. And he was wealthy. Most importantly, Job loved the Lord. Because of his love for God, do you wonder how he managed to maintain that trust? I honestly doubt we can even imagine the depth of Job’s suffering,’’ the preacher said.
Jasmine gave her grandmother a sidelong glance before returning her full attention to the preacher. She listened intently, wondering if God had designed this message especially with her in mind.
‘‘When difficulties enter our lives, we are quick to shake a finger toward the heavens and ask why God has permitted something tragic to occur in our lives. We wonder why we should be plagued by suffering or pain when God can prevent such occurrences.
Surely these events should be suffered by someone who doesn’t love the Lord, instead of us.’’
‘‘Exactly my thoughts,’’ Jasmine whispered to her grandmother. Alice placed a gloved finger to her pursed lips and issued a soft shushing sound in Jasmine’s direction.
‘‘We must remember that God can and often does prevent misery and disaster from entering our lives. But at those times when God does not intervene and troubles befall us, He will use those circumstances to His glory if we will only trust Him. Just as Job’s friends forgot, we also tend to forget that God’s character and nature is love. Out of our need we come to Him; we seek His face and unburden our hearts.
‘‘Near the end of Job’s suffering, he admits to the Lord that he, Job, spoke of things he did not understand, things too wonderful for him to know. He tells God, ‘I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear: but now mine eye seeth thee.’ Just think of the excitement and pleasure Job experienced! Although God had not prevented Satan from causing Job pain and suffering, Job grew even closer to Him. And what can we learn from this?’’
Jasmine glanced heavenward. ‘‘To enjoy our misery?’’ she whispered.
The preacher looked out over the congregation. ‘‘If we will soften our hearts, there is much to learn. God is waiting
, anxious to draw closer.’’
Alice tapped Jasmine on the arm and tipped her head ever so slightly toward the preacher.
‘‘God can use our trials to allow us to see Him and to know His character. In the midst of difficulties, we often forget the equation of time. We often think of ‘poor Job’—but I would submit that Job was blessed. The Scriptures clearly point to the fact that Job was blessed in his early life, but in the latter portion of his life his blessings were doubled. Yes, God permitted Job to suffer, but
Job reaped many benefits, the greatest of which was a closer relationship with God. When trials come, my children, remember the blessings that follow as we, too, spend time with our Lord.’’
They were seated at her grandmother’s table beginning their noonday meal when Jasmine commented how much she had been enjoying her time with God each morning. ‘‘I must admit the sermon this morning appeared to have been intended specifically for me. For a moment I wondered if you had divulged my difficulties to Reverend Wells,’’ she said with a giggle, then quickly sobered. ‘‘I wish I could report that I see evidence of matters easing between Bradley and me.’’
‘‘It’s only been a few days, dear. Why not wait until the end of the month before admitting defeat.’’
‘‘I know you’re right, but it’s quite difficult. When I related your information about the mill girls to Bradley, instead of being pleased, he chastised me because I hadn’t personally attended the tea. He became very angry and stormed from the room after accusing me of attempting to hurt our unborn child by not properly caring for myself. His temper frightens me at times.’’
Alice nodded as she forked a piece of chicken onto her plate. ‘‘Since our talk the other day, I’ve given some thought to our discussion. It has occurred to me that Bradley is under a great deal of stress with all of the expectations placed upon him in his new position: the acquisition of new Southern cotton producers and his responsibility for coordinating shipments—and then there’s his own shipping business to deal with also. I’m wondering if it has all become too much for him.’’
‘‘You may be correct. I hadn’t given thought to the fact that he’s had to deal with many new situations since our marriage.’’
‘‘I’m thinking that I could write a letter to your father and suggest he have someone else coordinate the cotton shipments and even work toward developing new connections among other growers. Possibly one of your brothers. If your father agrees, Bradley would have more free time to devote to his other duties with the Associates, and he could spend more time at home.’’
Jasmine could well imagine the workload that awaited Bradley each day. And while she couldn’t bring herself to admit love for her husband, she did feel compassion for his needs. ‘‘I believe such a plan may very well be what Bradley needs to help him relax and deal with matters in a less agitated state. I’ve agreed to hostess a tea next week, and I’ll do all within my power to attend any of the upcoming events organized by the Associates’ wives. Perhaps you could also help me by taking me along to some of your public engagements. That way my introduction into proper Lowell society will be accomplished more quickly.’’
Alice nodded. ‘‘I believe we’ve developed a workable plan.
With prayer and hard work, we may be able to smooth the troubled waters you’ve experienced these last few months.’’
Jasmine felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. ‘‘Thank you, Grandmother. I can’t tell you how much better I feel. And Kiara seems happier also.’’ She lifted her handbag and removed a small piece of lace. ‘‘Look what I’ve brought along to show you,’’ she said, holding the piece of lace in the palm of her hand. ‘‘Kiara fashioned this as an insert for the neckline of my plum silk gown. Have you ever seen such exquisite work?’’
Alice carefully examined the intricate pattern, turning it in all directions. ‘‘This compares with the finest European laces. Are you certain she made this?’’
‘‘Indeed. We went into Lowell and purchased the supplies.
During Bradley’s absences, she sits with me and works on the lace while I’m doing my needlepoint. It’s slow and painstaking to create even this small piece, yet she seems to thoroughly enjoy the task.’’
‘‘There’s every reason to believe she could earn enough to support herself once her servitude has been completed. She should create as much as possible while she’s living with you. She can sell it and save her money for the future. The lace will sell itself, and cost will be no object. The affluent women will beg to purchase it. When she has a piece she’s prepared to sell, let me show it to some of my friends. I’ll have more orders than she can supply.’’
‘‘I’m certain your news will boost her spirits. I love having both Kiara and Paddy with us, but I know she would be much happier living in the Acre with Bridgett and the other Irish immigrants. She has more in common with them. Not long ago I mentioned Kiara’s unhappiness to Bradley and suggested he tear up their papers and give both of them their freedom. That, however, was a terrible mistake.’’ Jasmine shivered. ‘‘His angry outburst was dreadful.’’
‘‘One thing you must learn, my dear,’’ her grandmother said carefully. ‘‘No man likes to be dictated to by his wife. You must learn more subtle ways of persuasion. Make him think it’s his idea—or someone else of import. The less you try to impose or insist upon your own will, the happier you’ll be.’’
Jasmine now fully recognized the truth of her grandmother’s words. Nolan, too, had tried to caution her to do this very thing.
Apparently it was advice that merited consideration.
To Jasmine’s surprise, her first guest of the day was none other than Elinor Brighton. The young woman stood on the threshold looking much displaced—almost startled to find herself in such a position.
‘‘Good day, Mrs. Brighton. I’m so glad you could come,’’ Jasmine said from the foyer where she stood ready to greet her guests.
‘‘I hadn’t thought to come until the last possible moment. I’m sorry that I could send no word.’’
‘‘Nonsense,’’ Jasmine declared. ‘‘We have more than enough food and plenty of room. You are very welcome here.’’ She again thought of the sorrow Mrs. Brighton had been forced to endure.
Still, the woman appeared quite capable and strong.
‘‘I haven’t yet had a chance to offer my condolences. I am sorry for your loss. I pray God gives you strength to endure your sorrows.’’
Elinor stiffened and her expression grew almost ugly. ‘‘God has long since forgotten my existence—at least I hope He has, lest He suffer any more horrors upon me.’’
The bitter words so startled Jasmine that she actually took a step backward. ‘‘I . . . well, that is . . .’’
‘‘Jasmine, don’t you look lovely,’’ her grandmother declared as she entered the house.
Jasmine looked to the older woman’s smiling face and then back to Elinor, whose countenance had once again taken on a look of serenity. For a moment Jasmine almost wondered if she’d imagined the entire episode, but a remnant of hardness around Elinor’s eyes left Jasmine little doubt that the widow had spoken her harsh declaration.
Jasmine’s guests began to arrive in groups of two or three, and suddenly there was no more time to consider Elinor Brighton and her feelings toward God. Jasmine did her best to greet each woman with a personal statement.
‘‘Mrs. Harper, I heard that your sister visited last week. I pray you found her in good health.’’
‘‘Mrs. Donohue, it’s so good of you to come. I trust you and Liam have been well?’’
Daughtie answered affirmatively and made room for the Cheevers.
‘‘Mrs. Cheever, Violet, I’m so pleased to see you. I was so relieved to hear that little Matthew wasn’t injured overmuch when he fell from the tree.’’
‘‘He suffered no injury from the tree—rather his father’s swift deliverance of discipline was perhaps more harsh to his backs
ide than the ground upon which he fell,’’ Lilly Cheever exclaimed.
Violet giggled and added, ‘‘Papa has been after Matthew forever to stay out of the trees. Matthew is an absolute reprobate, however. He never listens unless a good spanking accompanies the instruction.’’ Jasmine tried not to cringe at the thought. She could easily recall Bradley’s beating of Paddy and wanted no part of the memory. She could only pray that Mr. Cheever had not used a horsewhip in his endeavors to direct his son.
Jasmine sighed with relief as the parlor filled with even more women than had attended her previous tea. Had the turnout been poor, she knew Bradley would fault her.
Fortunately, it wasn’t long before Nettie Harper spoke up.
‘‘Wilson has developed distressing stomach ailments over the past month. He says there’s a new labor movement that has joined both the men and women in an unholy union against the textile industry. Those are his words, not mine,’’ she quickly added.
Mary Johnson, one of the supervisors’ wives, nodded in agreement. ‘‘Michael mentioned the same thing. I’d never tell my husband, but I secretly admire those women who aren’t afraid to sign their names to articles being published in The Voice.’’
‘‘What kind of articles?’’ Jasmine asked.
‘‘Rather than merely publishing flowery poetry and articles filled with words of praise for their subservient role as they’ve previously done in The Offering, these girls are now stating they believe the female workers should be treated as equals to the men,’’ Nettie explained.
‘‘Well, I for one don’t believe that’s what the Bible teaches,’’ Wilma Morgan said.
Janet Nash, wife of a supervisor at the locomotive shop, perked to attention. ‘‘I’ve not read in the Bible where it says men and women are to receive dissimilar pay. I believe it says a laborer is worthy of his hire. I interpret that to mean exactly what it says: a laborer should be paid a fair wage. The verse makes no mention of whether the laborer is a man or woman. If the workers are performing identical duties, they should be paid an identical wage.
Tracie Peterson & Judith Miller - [Lights of Lowell 01] Page 24