A Fragile Design

by Tracie Peterson

  ‘‘Give him a little more room so he can make himself more comfortable, Bella,’’ Addie instructed before turning back toward the front of the carriage.

  Taylor gave her a smug grin and then winked. Winked!

  ‘‘You are no gentleman, sir,’’ Bella hissed. ‘‘It’s good that we’re on our way to church.’’

  ‘‘And why is that?’’

  ‘‘Because you’re certainly in need of help from the Almighty!’’

  Taylor gave a hearty laugh. ‘‘I doubt you’ll find me any more proper after the church sermon than before,’’ he responded jovially.

  Bella tapped Miss Addie on the shoulder. ‘‘You see? He’s laughing and feeling much better already,’’ she said with a look of satisfaction on her face as she leaned back against the leather-upholstered seat.

  Taylor leaned close, his hair sweeping down across one eye. ‘‘You’re out of your element, Bella. I’m more practiced than you are at this type of behavior. They may listen to your words, but they won’t believe my leg is healed until I’ve convinced them.’’

  She stiffened and looked away in an attempt to push down the boiling anger that was welling up inside. If she spoke, her words would spew out the anger she felt for this man. Rather than speak, she shifted her body toward the buggy door and directed her gaze at the passing scenery.

  ‘‘Don’t be angry with me, dear Bella,’’ Taylor whispered, his breath on her neck causing her to shiver. ‘‘I want to be friends. Give me just a little smile,’’ he pleaded. Still leaning close, he ran his finger along her cheek.

  Unable to restrain herself any longer, Bella slapped his hand away from her face. ‘‘Keep your hands to yourself!’’ she hissed through clenched teeth as the carriage came to a halt.

  Bella noted Taylor’s obvious lack of pain as he stepped out of the carriage and offered her his hand. ‘‘May I assist you?’’

  ‘‘Oh no, I don’t need any help. You take care of yourself. I wouldn’t want you to hurt that leg.’’

  Miss Addie gave her a sweet smile. ‘‘That was very kind of you, dear.’’

  ‘‘Obviously Miss Addie didn’t notice the sarcasm dripping from your reply,’’ Taylor commented as they sauntered toward the gray-slate church building.

  ‘‘Nor your lack of discomfort when you jumped out of the carriage,’’ Bella replied. She chastised herself for speaking to him. Silence! That was the key to ridding herself of Taylor Manning. Somehow his words forced a rebuttal from her lips. If nothing else, surely all those years in the Shaker community had taught her restraint. She merely needed to put that teaching into practice.

  Bella caught her breath as they entered the sanctuary of St. Anne’s. The midmorning sun was glowing through huge stained-glass windows, casting a rainbow of colors across the rows of walnut pews. Midway down the aisle, Miss Addie stopped beside a pew. John unlatched a small door permitting them entrance to their seats.

  ‘‘Why are there doors on the pews?’’ Bella whispered to Miss Addie.

  ‘‘The sermons are boring, and the doors prevent our escape,’’ Taylor said with a snicker.

  Bella ignored his reply and waited for a response from Miss Addie. ‘‘In the winter, the church is difficult to heat. It’s so large,’’ she said, glancing toward the high ceiling, ‘‘and the heat all rises upward. In order to keep everyone a bit warmer, heating bricks or warming pans are placed on the floor inside each pew. The doors help keep the heat in,’’ she explained. ‘‘However, I must add that there are probably others who share young Taylor’s view,’’ she said, giving him an agreeable smile. ‘‘Oh, here’s Mintie,’’ she exclaimed. ‘‘Do unlatch the door, Taylor.’’

  ‘‘Good morning, all,’’ Mintie greeted, squeezing herself into the seat alongside Taylor. Pushing against Taylor’s chest with her parasol, she bent forward in an effort to gain her sister’s attention. ‘‘Will you be attending the picnic, Adelaide?’’

  ‘‘Yes, we’re all attending. And you?’’

  Mintie peered over the top of her glasses and pursed her lips. Before she could reply, her attention was drawn toward the girls entering the pew in front of them. Once again making use of her parasol, she tapped one of the girls on the shoulder. ‘‘You girls need to go to one of the pews near the rear of the church. That pew belongs to the Behren family.’’

  Bella watched as the girls, their cheeks flushed with embarrassment, vacated the pew and hastened toward the rear of the church while the finely dressed citizens of Lowell strolled down the aisle, stopping to visit with one another as they moved toward their seats. Chattering and laughter had been evident in all the churches Bella had visited thus far. Worship in the churches of Lowell was unusual—so different from Canterbury, where the women and men formed separate rows and marched in through their individual doors of the Meeting House, with men on one side and women on the other, quietly taking their seats on opposing sides. What would Sister Mercy think if she could see Bella sitting beside a gentleman during church services? Well, perhaps not a gentleman, but a man, she decided.

  Taylor leaned toward her. ‘‘You might want to take note of the fashions these women are wearing and give thought to wearing dresses that are a little more—’’ he hesitated a moment—‘‘becoming?’’

  Bella held her tongue and remained silent. How dare he comment on my apparel, she thought. Obviously her Sunday Shaker dress didn’t meet the standards of the world, but it was all she owned, and it was neat, clean, and freshly pressed.

  ‘‘No need to clench up like that,’’ he said. ‘‘Feel free to say whatever it is you’re thinking.’’

  Bella remained silent and kept her gaze turned forward, giving full attention to the services that had now begun. She wanted to impartially evaluate each church she attended. Otherwise, how could she decide where she belonged? Besides, it shouldn’t be so difficult to find a church that followed the Bible’s teachings. And yet, if that were true, why were there so many divergent beliefs? The Shakers had added Mother Ann’s teachings to those of the Bible, and each of the Protestant churches appeared to have something that set it apart from the others, like the way they baptized or took communion. And the Catholics had their own way of interpreting things, too. It was, she decided, not such an easy matter to determine where one belonged.

  ‘‘You’re frowning,’’ Taylor whispered an hour later as the benediction was given. ‘‘It doesn’t become you.’’

  ‘‘Shh!’’ Miss Mintie hissed with an index finger placed over her pursed lips.

  ‘‘I was only—’’

  Before Taylor could complete his reply, Miss Mintie jabbed a sharp elbow into his side. ‘‘Quiet!’’ she commanded.

  Bella arched her eyebrows and gave Taylor a warning look. Obviously Miss Mintie was a force to be reckoned with; she was not about to put up with Mr. Manning’s tomfoolery.

  Taylor waited until Reverend Edson left the pulpit and had walked to the rear of the church before asking, ‘‘Do I now have your permission to speak, Miss Beecher?’’

  ‘‘Don’t be foolish, Mr. Manning. The church service is over; of course you can speak. You understood exactly what I meant when I told you to be quiet. I will not tolerate rude behavior.’’ She lifted her closed parasol and tapped the pointed end into his chest. ‘‘And you, Mr. Manning, were being rude.’’

  Bella leaned around Taylor and smiled demurely at Miss Mintie. ‘‘Will you be joining us for lunch, Miss Beecher?’’

  Mintie shook her head. ‘‘I didn’t pack a lunch, but perhaps I’ll return for some of the afternoon activities.’’

  Taking her cue from Taylor’s apparent look of relief, Bella sprung into action. ‘‘We would love to have you join us. Miss Addie has packed enough food to feed a small army. Haven’t you, Miss Adelaide?’’ Bella inquired while tugging on Addie’s sleeve.

  ‘‘Haven’t I what?’’ Addie asked, turning away from her conversation with John and several other parishioners.

  ‘‘Prepa
red ample food—so Miss Beecher may join us.’’

  Addie nodded. ‘‘Well, of course, sister. You are more than welcome. To be honest, I anticipated you would join us.’’

  Mintie appeared to be giving the matter grave consideration before giving her reply. ‘‘Well, I suppose I might as well stay.’’

  Addie nodded, Bella grinned, and Taylor’s expression wilted.

  They gathered momentarily outside the church before the men rushed off to fetch the picnic basket. ‘‘Don’t forget to limp,’’ Bella cautioned Taylor as she walked off with Mintie and Addie to seek a shade-covered site for their blanket.

  Bella managed to seat herself between Mintie and Addie until they’d finished their lunch, but soon thereafter John suggested he and Addie take a stroll. Immediately Taylor moved to Bella’s side, a lopsided grin spread across his face as he made himself comfortable.

  ‘‘Gather up those dishes and hand them here,’’ Mintie ordered Taylor as she began packing the leftovers into the wicker basket. ‘‘You can lie around in the sunshine after we’re done.’’

  Taylor grimaced as he dutifully followed Miss Mintie’s commands and helped pack, fold, and organize everything to the older woman’s satisfaction. ‘‘Have we finished?’’

  ‘‘You do have a smart tongue, young man. It’s obvious we’re finished—there’s nothing more to put in the basket, is there?’’

  Taylor gave her a sheepish grin. ‘‘No, ma’am.’’

  Mintie brushed some imaginary crumbs from the folds of her skirt and then directed her attention toward Bella. ‘‘I’m pleased we have this time together, Bella. I’ve been wanting to ask you about those Shakers up in Canterbury,’’ she began. ‘‘I’ve heard all kinds of stories about them.’’

  ‘‘Really? Like what?’’ Bella inquired.

  ‘‘That they dance and twirl around in church and sometimes even commence to shouting and running during worship. I also heard,’’ she continued, ‘‘that the women and men can’t even talk to each other. Is that true?’’

  ‘‘There’s dancing during church, and occasionally someone becomes filled with the Spirit and whirls, but the dancing isn’t like the world’s dances. Our dancing is a form of worship offered to God. I don’t know who told you the men and women can’t speak to each other, but that isn’t so. The men and women converse, but a man and woman are not permitted to go off alone and keep company,’’ she explained.

  Mintie nodded. ‘‘So how does that work?’’

  ‘‘Yes,’’ Taylor chimed in. ‘‘How does that work?’’

  ‘‘We converse during Union Meetings about topics of interest. For instance, if I found a piece of literature particularly interesting and one of the gentlemen was also fascinated by the same writing, we would sit opposite each other in Union Meeting and discuss the merits of that piece of work.’’

  ‘‘But didn’t those conversations cause men and women with similar interests to become attracted to one another?’’ Taylor inquired.

  ‘‘The conversations were never intimate, and if the elders feared any impropriety might arise, they would have another person join you.’’

  ‘‘And did that ever happen?’’ Taylor asked, moving closer.

  ‘‘Yes, frequently,’’ Bella replied honestly.

  Taylor appeared taken aback. ‘‘To you?’’

  Bella laughed and then felt a blush begin to rise in her cheeks. ‘‘Only once.’’

  Suddenly Miss Mintie became interested. ‘‘Aha! So that’s why you left. You have a beau,’’ she announced smugly.

  ‘‘No, it wasn’t like that,’’ Bella defended. ‘‘Jesse is my friend—just like Daughtie. We had made plans to leave Canterbury because we didn’t believe the teachings of Mother Ann—at least that’s why I left. However, I fear Daughtie came along because of my influence rather than her own convictions.’’

  ‘‘And this Jesse, why did he leave?’’ Mintie inquired.

  Taylor drew closer, his gaze unwavering as she answered.

  ‘‘I’m not certain he left,’’ she quietly replied. ‘‘He didn’t appear as planned, so Daughtie and I left on our own. You see, we were a little late arriving at the meeting place we’d decided upon, and I don’t know if he decided to go on without us or if he arrived after us and left on his own. Or perhaps when we didn’t arrive, he remained behind.’’

  ‘‘Or never appeared at all! Just like a man—leaving you to fend for yourself,’’ Mintie retorted.

  Bella glanced up at Miss Mintie. The older woman’s words echoed Bella’s thoughts, but she hadn’t wanted to give voice to them. Jesse had failed her, just as her father had in the past.

  ‘‘Well, it’s not as though he had pledged his love,’’ Taylor replied, obviously feeling a need to defend the man.

  ‘‘Yes he had. He said he loved me and wanted to be married,’’ Bella blurted out without thinking. She wanted to snatch back the words the moment they were spoken. Miss Mintie was giving her a pitying look while Taylor appeared self-satisfied—pleased that he had successfully elicited such revealing information.

  He reached over and patted Bella’s hand. ‘‘Don’t spend another minute concerning yourself with this Jesse fellow. I always have time for a beautiful woman,’’ he said while running his fingers through the hair that had fallen across his forehead.

  Bella felt herself become rigid at his words. He was going to use this to his advantage if she didn’t soon turn things around. ‘‘Miss Beecher, did you know that the Shakers believe in the complete equality of men and women?’’ she inquired.

  ‘‘You don’t say! Now, that’s a belief I could probably take hold of,’’ she said. ‘‘Tell me more,’’ she encouraged, giving Bella her rapt attention.

  She quickly determined that she wouldn’t explain the basis for the equality. Instead, Bella decided she would explain the benefits of equality. After all, Miss Mintie might look askance once she realized such equality was based upon the Shaker’s belief that Mother Ann represented the second embodiment of Christ’s spirit. The first, of course, had been Jesus, but this second embodiment in a woman now made both sexes equal—at least that’s what Mother Ann proclaimed. It was only one of several proclamations Bella couldn’t bring herself to accept. But just because she didn’t accept Mother Ann’s deity didn’t mean Bella didn’t believe in the equality of men and women.

  ‘‘The men and women share equally in all things. There is nothing granted to a man over a woman—or a woman over a man. The Shakers have both male and female Elders; they share work equally. They are educated equally. If a woman is more skilled in caring for the ill or keeping ledgers, she is permitted to do so. Women may discuss matters of social concern on equal footing with men and are encouraged to make their views known. The men don’t go off into a drawing room and discuss matters of import while the women are relegated to gossip and stitchery in the parlor.’’

  ‘‘Now, that makes good common sense. Women are every bit as bright as men. Personally, I believe they fear we are more intelligent, and that is why they send us off to another room. Now the Judge, my deceased father,’’ she explained, ‘‘tended to be more like your Shakers—at least in that respect. Well, only where I was concerned. He never included Adelaide in discussions regarding the business of the day because, quite frankly, she wasn’t interested. But I was. The Judge and I would talk well into the evening hours. He coveted my thoughts and opinions regarding matters of substance. Men like the Judge are few and far between,’’ Mintie soulfully replied. ‘‘My, how I miss that man,’’ she added softly.

  ‘‘I believe in equality for women,’’ Taylor interjected.

  Both women turned to stare at him, Bella giving him a look of disbelief. ‘‘Did you say you believe in equality?’’ she asked.

  He puffed his chest. ‘‘Yes, absolutely.’’

  ‘‘Why, that’s marvelous news, Taylor. Then I assume you’ll be permitting the young ladies of Lowell access to the Mechanics Association
library and lectures. Isn’t that wonderful, Miss Beecher?’’

  Taylor turned ashen while Bella smiled and reveled in the moment.

  CHAPTER 10

  Liam Donohue planted his work-worn hands on his hips and gave a satisfied nod. He’d been working in the home of James Paul Green, known as J. P. to his close associates. And although Liam wasn’t considered such an associate, Mr. Green had specifically sought him out to carve and lay the intricate stonework he desired around each of the five fireplaces in his fancy Boston home. Unfortunately, the work had been both tedious and worrisome. Liam had split, shaped, and sculpted the granite, fieldstone, limestone, flagstone, shale, and slate into a combination of sizes, shapes, and textures, all with an eye toward enhancing the imported Italian tiles that had been individually carved as the focal point of each fireplace. Liam had been handsomely paid for the work, but most of the funds had already been sent to Ireland to care for his aging parents as well as several brothers and sisters who still remained at home.

  A satisfied smile graced Mr. Green’s lips as he surveyed the fireplace in the library that doubled as his office. ‘‘You’ve done a fine job, Liam. I don’t believe an Englishman could have performed better stonework.’’

  Liam held his tongue, though it was difficult. Personally, he doubted whether Mr. Green could have found anyone to perform better stonework, much less an Englishman.

  ‘‘If you’re in need of a recommendation, please use my name,’’ he said while extending his hand.

  Liam gripped Mr. Green’s soft, fleshy hand in a muscular handshake. ‘‘I’ll be thankin’ ya for yar kind offer. I’ll not be in Boston long, ’owever. I’ve been offered a position in Lowell, and I’ll be leavin’ once I’ve finished cleanin’ up here,’’ he said in a thick Irish brogue.

  Rubbing his jawline, J. P. leaned against the walnut mantel in a swaggering fashion. ‘‘So it’s Lowell you’re off to. I have many connections there, also. Nathan Appleton, one of the founders of the Boston Associates, is my partner in the shipping business. We export almost all of the textiles produced in Lowell,’’ he said. ‘‘Surely you’re not going to waste your talents building mills?’’