‘‘Thank you, Grandmother. Knowing I can depend upon your support gives me courage.’’
The metal latch on the front door squeaked. Before either of the women could say anything further, the three Wainwright men stood in the parlor doorway.
‘‘Father! Your missive said you’d be arriving tomorrow,’’ Jasmine said as she hurried toward him.
Malcolm gathered her into a warm embrace. ‘‘You must have misread my letter. I’m certain I said we’d be arriving in Lowell today. But no matter. We’re here and all is well. Now let me give your grandmother a much-deserved hug.’’
Careful to avoid McKinley, Jasmine turned her attention to Samuel. ‘‘It’s good to see you, Samuel. We don’t see you often enough.’’
Samuel gave her a measured look. ‘‘I’m generally too busy for social visits when I’m in Lowell.’’
‘‘I’m surprised to see you here,’’ McKinley said to his sister.
Jasmine ignored his remark and turned toward the noise in the hallway. The boys were running into the room, obviously determined to investigate.
‘‘Look at how you’ve grown,’’ Samuel said while giving his nephew a brief hug. ‘‘You’re quite a fine young man, Spencer Houston.’’
Spencer giggled as he escaped Samuel’s hold, immediately running toward Jasmine with Moses following close behind. ‘‘I trust you had a pleasant voyage, Father,’’ Jasmine said.
‘‘A fine voyage—on one of the Houston ships. Come here, Spencer. I haven’t had an opportunity to say hello to my grandson.’’ Jasmine tugged Spencer out from behind her skirt. ‘‘Spencer, don’t pretend to be bashful. Go and give your grandpa a proper hello.’’
Her son’s eyes grew large when his grandfather pulled a piece of candy from his pocket to entice him away from his mother. Jasmine gave the boy a gentle nudge.
Propelled by the lure, Spencer moved to his grandfather. ‘‘Hello, Grappa,’’ Spencer said with a sweet smile.
Moses edged from behind Jasmine and then quickly darted toward the older man. Pointing to his tiny chest, Moses said, ‘‘Me candy, Grappa.’’
‘‘He is not your grandpa,’’ Samuel barked.
His eyes wide and filled with obvious fear, Moses rushed to Jasmine’s arms. ‘‘You’re fine—don’t cry,’’ she said, cradling the boy and rocking him back and forth.
‘‘Disgusting!’’ Samuel said through clenched teeth.
‘‘You’re the one who is disgusting, Samuel. How dare you bring your prejudice to bear on a tiny child—especially one who has been welcomed into this home. I find your behavior abhorrent.
I’m sorry to leave abruptly, Grandmother, but I fear that if I remain, I will be forced to tell my brothers exactly what I think of their behavior. Father, I trust you will come to the farm and spend several days with us.’’
Her father appeared perplexed and merely nodded before Jasmine escorted the boys from the house.
Malcolm remained silent, watching his daughter while she assisted the boys with their wraps and hastily exited the house.
Jasmine’s departure created a deafening silence that hung in the parlor for several minutes.
When Malcolm could no longer bear the quiet, he turned toward his mother. ‘‘What happened to my gentle-spirited daughter?’’
Alice laughed. ‘‘Jasmine is the same compassionate girl she’s always been, Malcolm. In this instance, her gentle spirit, as you so aptly refer to it, is directed toward Moses and not toward her brothers. Therein lies the difference. I believe she has chosen to protect the boy at all costs, including the loss of her family. Yet I do pray that none of us will permit that to occur.’’
Malcolm rubbed his throbbing neck, hoping to release the tension. ‘‘Why don’t we go down to the mills? I understand our final cotton shipment of the season sailed for Boston two days before we left New Orleans. Surely it’s been delivered to the mills by now. Right now I think I’d prefer a discussion of cotton and the manufacturing business.’’
‘‘What about dinner?’’ Alice inquired.
‘‘If we’re hungry, we can find our way to the restaurant in the Merrimack House, Mother. Don’t worry yourself on that account,’’ Malcolm replied. ‘‘I’ll be back by midafternoon, and we can have a peaceful visit.’’
The three men departed without further discussion. ‘‘If you don’t object,’’ McKinley said, ‘‘I’d prefer we stop first at the Appleton. With Mr. Cheever still out of town, I want to assure myself all is well. Besides, the major portion of the cotton shipment was destined for the Appleton.’’
With the agreement of Malcolm and Samuel, the three men disembarked the carriage at the Appleton Mill a short time later.
‘‘I’ll stop in the office and the two of you can go—’’
‘‘Mr. Wainwright! I’m relieved to see you,’’ the accountant called out while rushing toward McKinley. ‘‘You need to go down to the unloading area. The shipment of cotton we’ve been waiting on has arrived, but all the bales are terribly flawed. There’s total confusion what with you and Mr. Cheever both gone. Seems one of the men signed for the delivery and he’s now fearful he’ll be held accountable. No one wants to make a decision. The men are standing around arguing about whether to unload the remainder of the shipment or let it sit.’’
The Wainwright men hurried off to see for themselves, each one hoping the information they’d received would prove incorrect. However, it took only one glance to see the words of the accountant were true.
Chaos reigned.
CHAPTER• 24
ELINOR HEAPED the fried potatoes into a large china bowl, thrust a large serving spoon deep into the dish, and carried it to the sideboard. After filling her plate, she took her place at the end of the table and joined the girls, who were already eating their supper. While in the kitchen, she had managed to hear bits and pieces of the girls’ excited conversation but hoped she’d misconstrued their discussion. After offering a silent prayer for her supper, Elinor speared a forkful of the savory bread-and-butter pickles she’d preserved and momentarily enjoyed the results of her accomplishment.
‘‘I fear this incident is going to have far-reaching effects upon all of us, at least temporarily,’’ Cecilia said.
‘‘There’s little doubt there will be girls who will lose their positions for a time,’’ Sarah agreed.
‘‘Excuse me for interrupting your conversation, but exactly what is the problem at the mills?’’ Elinor inquired.
‘‘There was a vast shipment of cotton delivered to the Appleton today,’’ Janet Wilson explained. ‘‘It appears the entire shipment is of such inferior quality and full of debris the management has declared it unsuitable for use by any of the Lowell mills. The cotton was intended for use by several of the mills, but the Appleton will be most deeply affected since our supply of cotton is nearly depleted.’’
‘‘Mr. Cheever came out to the mill yard and spoke to us at quitting time this evening,’’ Sarah added. ‘‘He said they are still hopeful they’ll find some resolution for the problem, but he didn’t appear convinced. He said some of us should be prepared for layoffs, as the work force may need to be reduced if there is insufficient cotton to operate the mills.’’
Elinor listened carefully to the explanation. ‘‘Did they indicate how many workers may be laid off?’’
‘‘No, but I fear they may close down the Appleton until they receive new shipments,’’ Sarah said, ‘‘which would likely mean waiting for the delivery of the first crop next year before they’d reopen. Mr. Cheever talked as though this had been the last shipment expected until the next harvest. In fact, this cotton had been held in storage in New Orleans awaiting shipment to Lowell until it was needed.’’
‘‘Oh, surely they wouldn’t need to close down until next year,’’ Elinor objected.
‘‘From what Mr. Cheever said, if they must wait for the next picking, they’ll supply all the other mills with cotton before proceeding to reopen the Appleto
n,’’ Janet said. ‘‘It’s a terrible situation.’’ ‘‘And the layoffs will be determined by length of employment, which means some of us will likely be going home,’’ Mary commented. Elinor winced at Mary’s statement. She had a full house and didn’t want to lose any of her boarders. Although the mills closed from time to time due to accidents, an unexpected repair, or a spring freshet, those closings were seldom and brief. In contrast, this sudden depletion of cotton would affect many more employees and for a longer period of time.
Sarah glanced down the table at Elinor. ‘‘Do you think they’ll close any of the boardinghouses?’’
Elinor’s fork slipped from her fingers and clanked on the white china plate before sliding off the table, to her lap, and down to the floor. Why hadn’t she immediately thought of the consequences the mill closing might have upon her boardinghouse? Her thoughts began to race wildly. She couldn’t remember if the contract she had signed included a clause regarding the closure of a house. And even if it did, where had she placed her contract?
‘‘Do any of you know if the Corporation has ever closed a boardinghouse?’’ Elinor asked.
‘‘I’ve never known of them to close one,’’ Sarah replied. ‘‘But they’ve never closed down a mill for any length of time either.’’
‘‘They’ll likely close a number of houses if they close the Appleton mill,’’ Elinor mused.
‘‘Oh, I hope they don’t close this house. I don’t want to move to another house. I’d have to get accustomed to new roommates and take whatever bed is left,’’ Janet said, her voice growing shrill and whiney. ‘‘We’d be the new girls all over again with no choice, forced to accept any open space.’’
‘‘Don’t be selfish, Janet. There are girls who will lose their positions, and perhaps even Mrs. Brighton will be without her position as a keeper.’’ Cecilia’s face was filled with compassion.
‘‘Please don’t worry overmuch, Mrs. Brighton,’’ she continued. ‘‘My mother says we fret most about those things that never actually happen.’’
Elinor tried to smile, but her attempt was in vain. With each passing year, it seemed as if her life became even more catastrophic than the last—a vicious, unending whirlpool of misery sucking her downward and now threatening to dissolve her very livelihood. The chatter of the girls grew faint as a parade of dismal events marched through her mind: memories of the husbands she had buried; the towheaded, laughing children she had never conceived; the house and worldly possessions she had been required to sell in order to pay off encumbrances; and a life of drudgery in this boardinghouse that scantily supported her. And now it appeared even that meager crumb would be taken from her. Was she destined to remain in penury for the remainder of her life?
Why her? What had she done to deserve losing even this pitiable existence?
Retribution! The thought crystallized like the thin layer of ice on a freezing winter morn. Losing her position at the boardinghouse was surely God’s reckoning for the part she’d played in the recapture of the slaves. It had been her loose tongue to blame, and now she must suffer, just as those poor enslaved Negroes were surely suffering.
‘‘Mrs. Brighton! Mrs. Brighton!’’
Somewhere in the distance, Elinor heard the faint sound of her name. She startled at the touch of a hand upon her own. ‘‘What? Oh, I’m sorry, Cecilia. I was caught up in my thoughts. Is there something you needed?’’
‘‘No, but I wanted to be certain you were all right before I went upstairs.’’
Elinor glanced around the room. She and Cecilia were the only ones remaining in the dining room. ‘‘The girls finished their supper?’’ she asked.
‘‘Yes,’’ Cecilia whispered.
Cecilia was staring at her as though she’d taken leave of her senses. ‘‘I’m quite fine, Cecilia, but thank you for your concern. Please feel free to go to your room. I’ll get busy with these dishes.’’
‘‘If you’re certain,’’ Cecilia replied hesitantly.
Hoping to reassure the girl, Elinor stood and began removing the supper dishes. She exhaled deeply when Cecilia finally departed the room, relieved to be alone with her work. Reminding herself that busy hands and a tiresome routine would surely prove advantageous, Elinor returned to the kitchen and began washing the dishes. Perhaps the mundane task would help clear her mind. The idea, however, proved futile. A myriad of thoughts continued to skitter through her mind like the mice rushing to and fro behind the plastered walls.
Lowering a stack of plates into the steaming water, Elinor shuddered as she remembered Oliver’s deception and her own foolishness. She had permitted him to exploit her! The dishcloth dripped over the basin as she relived the humiliation of confessing to Liam and Daughtie she had been responsible for disclosing information regarding the runaways. The Donohues had been kind and supportive, declaring Oliver the true villain. Daughtie had even come to visit with her, praying and directing her to the story of Joseph and his brothers in the Old Testament. But Elinor had turned a deaf ear, unwilling to be assuaged. She hadn’t wanted to be reminded of Bible stories that showed how God used evil for good. For there was no way the evil she’d done could become right with the Lord—or with those poor slaves. Throughout the entire ordeal Daughtie remained kind and compassionate, asking only that she go back and read the account of Joseph and meditate over the Scriptures. However, Elinor had never done so.
She had confessed her offense to both God and man; she had asked forgiveness as the Bible instructed. Yet obviously her compliant behavior was not enough. For if God had actually forgiven her transgression, her position with the Corporation would not now be in jeopardy.
Since hearing the news of the possible mill closing, the girls had been in a constant state of unrest, their behavior rapidly changing from giddy laughter to overflowing tears. Elinor had neither laughed nor cried—she was too angry and fearful to do either. A loud knock sounded at the front door, and she ceased clearing the table and wiped her hands on the frayed apron that covered her faded blue calico dress.
With a heavy step, she trudged down the hallway and pulled open the front door. ‘‘Mr. Cheever!’’
Matthew Cheever stood in the doorway, his gray felt hat in his hands and a hesitant look on his face. ‘‘Good morning, Mrs.
Brighton. May I have a word with you?’’
‘‘Yes, of course. Do come in, Mr. Cheever.’’ Her fingers trembled on the doorknob as she permitted him entry and then closed the heavy wooden door. She hung his hat and coat in the hallway before leading him into the parlor as though she’d expected his visit.
Mr. Cheever sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs, his gaze finally settling upon her. ‘‘I’ve come as the bearer of news that will likely result in difficult circumstances for you, Mrs. Brighton. Because of my close business association and friendship with your brother Taylor, I wanted to bring this news to you personally, especially since Taylor and Bella are currently so far from home. As I’m sure you’re aware, we’ve been required to lay off a number of workers at the Appleton.’’
Elinor nodded. The cottony taste in her mouth made speech impossible. She clutched the arms of the wooden rocking chair, her eyes fixed upon Matthew as she waited for the completion of his discourse.
‘‘There is a very strong possibility we will be forced to close one of the boardinghouses. Should that occur, you would be the keeper who would lose her position—the other keepers have been with the Corporation much longer,’’ he quickly added.
‘‘I expected it would come to this,’’ she replied.
‘‘Then you’ve already begun to make plans? For that is why I’ve come in advance—to encourage you to formulate some ideas for your future.
’’ Elinor’s lips formed a wry smile. ‘‘I’ve made no plans, Mr. Cheever. I’ve never wished to decide to whom I shall be obliged. I’d rather delay my decision until I know it’s a certainty.’’
‘‘I do wish your Uncle John were still alive,’’ he mused.<
br />
‘‘Or that he’d left me a portion of his inheritance—but neither fact is a reality. I have but one living relative in this country, Mr. Cheever, and he is currently in Scotland.’’
‘‘Do you know when Taylor and Bella will return?’’
‘‘At the time of their departure, they were hoping to return by April, but Taylor did not book their return passage. He was uncertain of the situation in Scotland and said they would make their decision after he had an opportunity to assess the situation. I’m surmising he may bring some of Beatrice’s family back to America.’’
‘‘There’s little doubt Taylor will want you to come and live with him. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you in your current position until his return,’’ Matthew said. He stood, obviously convinced there was nothing more to be discussed.
‘‘I’ll retrieve your coat,’’ Elinor said. She jumped to her feet and hurried into the hallway, remaining silent while he donned his coat and hat.
‘‘I’m sure you are most grateful to have a brother in this time of need,’’ Matthew said as he departed the house.
Elinor closed the door and then leaned the full weight of her body against the hard wood. ‘‘Glad to have a brother in this time of need? Is that what Mr. Cheever really thinks? That I should be thankful because I must now grovel and beg my brother for a pittance of charity?’’
She balled her hands into tight fists and banged them hard against the door—once, twice, and then repeatedly until her hands ached with pain. ‘‘How dare he treat me like some pitiable creature? And how dare God place me in this wretched circumstance? I held myself accountable for what I did, asked for forgiveness— yet that is not enough, is it? What is it you want from me? Have I not suffered enough? Is my sin so much more than others’ that you cannot forgive me?’’ she screamed toward heaven.
Elinor dropped to the floor, her body wracked by uncontrollable sobbing until she was totally spent. When she finally stood up, a swollen red face surrounded by unkempt hair greeted her in the hallway mirror. She held both hands to her temples, hoping somehow to diminish the searing pain that threatened to incapacitate her.
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