A Fragile Design

by Tracie Peterson

  Lilly gave Matthew a frown. ‘‘On a Sunday afternoon? What kind of difficulty, Matthew?’’

  ‘‘There are rumors spreading that the Irish have begun stockpiling weapons in the foundation of the new church. I want to put a stop to it before trouble begins,’’ Matthew replied.

  ‘‘That’s preposterous. Why on earth would the Irish want to accumulate weapons?’’

  ‘‘I doubt that there’s any truth to the rumors.’’

  Lilly’s mouth was agape. ‘‘But what if . . .’’

  Matthew patted her shoulder. ‘‘Nothing to concern yourself with, my dear. I’m certain that at most it’s only a small group of troublemakers, but the Corporation does need to halt any rumors. I’ll see what I can do,’’ he said. ‘‘While I’m gone, why don’t you ladies make a decision regarding attending the lyceum? Taylor and I will be pleased to accommodate your choice. Won’t we, Taylor?’’ he asked while moving toward the front door.

  Taylor didn’t appear pleased with the pronouncement but he was obviously unwilling to argue Matthew’s position. ‘‘Yes, sir,’’ he replied. ‘‘Will you . . .’’

  ‘‘Whatever the decision, I promise I’ll get word to you,’’ Matthew said, while pushing Taylor onward.

  Lilly giggled as they walked out the door. ‘‘That young man is enchanted with you, Bella. And I believe you’re quite smitten with him, also,’’ she said, linking arms with Bella. Before Bella could protest, Lilly pulled her toward a corner of the foyer. ‘‘Proper attire isn’t a problem. I have several dresses that would fit you handsomely,’’ Lilly offered. ‘‘I would be honored if you would permit me to give you one. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m going to be a mother. My waist has thickened, and most of my dresses no longer fit.’’

  ‘‘But they’ll fit you again—after the child,’’ Bella replied.

  ‘‘I promise I’ll give you one that will soon be out of fashion. Would that make the gift more acceptable?’’

  ‘‘I didn’t mean to imply that I find your offer unacceptable,’’ Bella apologized. ‘‘However, it’s a thorny issue, changing my attire to suit Taylor Manning’s request—although I very much want to attend the lyceum,’’ she confided in a whisper.

  ‘‘Do you find wearing worldly clothing goes against your religious tenets, Bella? Because if you believe you must continue to wear your Shaker dresses, I would never encourage you to disobey your beliefs. But if it’s merely that you don’t want Taylor to win an argument . . .’’

  Bella blushed and turned away. ‘‘I’ve never believed that it was necessary to wear drab clothing in order to love God. As you can see, I’ve already added some lace to this dress,’’ she replied, then hesitated. ‘‘And although Taylor is prideful, he’s probably no worse than most men.’’

  Lilly grasped Bella’s hand, her face etched with concern. ‘‘What’s hardened your heart toward men at such an early age, Bella?’’

  ‘‘In the case of Taylor Manning, I find him arrogant and entirely self-absorbed. He believes himself to be the finest thing in shoe leather. He has an attitude of pride regarding his looks, and I can tell by the way he acts that he’s used to getting his own way with the ladies.’’

  ‘‘But Taylor Manning isn’t the one who started this feeling toward men, is he?’’

  Bella gave Lilly a wistful smile as her thoughts wandered down a dark path of memories. ‘‘There have been two men in my life. My father and Jesse Harwood—and even though they both avowed their love, neither chose me over life among the Shakers. I trusted both of them; they both disappointed me. I’ve finally concluded that the pain meted out by men is more than my heart can withstand.’’

  Lilly pulled her close. ‘‘Sit down here,’’ she said, leading her to a small divan. ‘‘Not all men are the same, Bella. I’ve experienced pain at the hands of men I’ve loved, but there are good men, men who will love and cherish you. As I labored with my own pain, my heart was quickened to pray for those who caused the pain. It was difficult, but there is a balm of healing that comes with prayer for wrongdoers. Perhaps if you could begin praying for your father and Jesse, it would help. Tell me about them—your father and Jesse.’’

  Bella felt as though she’d met a kindred spirit. The chattering girls and tea party formed a hazy milieu while she poured out her heart to Lilly, first explaining the pain of rejection at her father’s hand, then her mother’s death, and then Jesse’s unexplained nonappearance the night she and Daughtie left Canterbury.

  ‘‘So you love Jesse and wanted to become his wife. Now I understand why you find Taylor’s advances offensive,’’ Lilly said.

  ‘‘No, I don’t want to marry anyone. I’m not sure what that kind of love is—between a man and woman, I mean. Jesse said he loved me, but I knew my love for him wasn’t the same. He insisted we should be married, and I thought perhaps he was right, although I confess I was fearful of the arrangement. My mother loved my father, and he deserted her love for the Shakers. What if Jesse decided he wanted to return to Canterbury after we were married? I was frightened, but I wanted to leave the Family.’’

  ‘‘But not because of Jesse?’’

  Bella shook her head back and forth. ‘‘I find fault with some of their important beliefs; they go against what the Bible says—at least I think they do,’’ she replied.

  ‘‘I see,’’ Lilly replied. ‘‘Then you actually left the Shakers in order to exercise your religious freedom.’’

  ‘‘Exactly,’’ Bella replied, gracing her hostess with a grateful smile.

  ‘‘Good! Then you can wear my dress and attend the lyceum without compromising your beliefs,’’ Lilly triumphantly replied. ‘‘You remain behind with Miss Addie after the others leave this afternoon, and we’ll decide upon a dress. In fact, it appears as if several of my guests are preparing to leave. I’d best resume my hostess duties. Promise you’ll stay,’’ Lilly urged.

  Bella nodded her agreement. She hoped her decision would prove judicious.

  Taylor mulled over the conversation he’d had with Bella and couldn’t begin to imagine how he’d insulted her. Yes, he’d been forward and open with his statements, but he didn’t believe it served him very well to veil his thoughts. Still, she had been upset with him. As if reading his thoughts, Matthew interrupted with a question.

  ‘‘You didn’t really insult that poor young woman, did you?’’

  Taylor shrugged. ‘‘I didn’t think so, but apparently she found my words offensive. Bella is a true mystery to me.’’

  ‘‘That’s why you’ve come to like her so much more than the other girls, correct?’’

  ‘‘I never said I liked her more than anyone,’’ Taylor replied defensively. ‘‘I’ve no need to choose one woman over another. I tend to spread myself among the ladies,’’ he said, grinning.

  Matthew frowned. ‘‘That’s hardly the kind of attitude I would brag about. Your heart seems not to care at all for the misery you cause, yet you seem considerate enough with some. I suppose you find the attention rewarding at this stage of your life, but let me assure you, Taylor, the love of a good and godly woman cannot compare to the adoration of hundreds of addlepated ninnies. Find a woman of character—godly character—and you’ll have found something of great value.’’

  The words stung Taylor’s pride. Surely Matthew Cheever believed in more than inward beauty. After all, the man was married to a beautiful woman, had an opulent home, and dressed impeccably in the best of fashions. Taylor smiled to himself. Matthew was probably just speaking in such a manner because his wife had suggested it. He nodded to himself and felt the weight of his concern lift. That’s all it was. Lilly Cheever had probably instructed her husband to chide Taylor for his brusque and open manner with Bella. It was surely nothing more than that.

  CHAPTER 15

  William Thurston relentlessly plodded down one of the mucky paths toward Michael Neil’s pub in the Acre. It wasn’t his need for liquor forcing his portly body into the ra
pid pace; rather, it was the overheard conversation from a nearby table the evening before while he had dined at the Wareham House. He’d briefly considered going to the Acre last night, but going after dark was risky for a Yank. He decided his visit could wait until today. If luck was on his side, several of his lackeys would be in the pub downing ale.

  He pressed onward, keeping his head bowed against a warm breeze, the stench of the litter-filled streets assaulting his senses. Relief washed over him when he finally reached the pub and recognized the faces of two men sitting in a darkened corner. Weaving his way among several tables, Thurston motioned at the barkeep to deliver ale to the corner table and then seated himself.

  He leaned across the table toward the two men in an intimate fashion. ‘‘I understand there was a bit of a ruckus down here yesterday.’’

  One of the men nodded. ‘‘How’d you find out?’’

  ‘‘I keep telling you boys I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere. When something happens, I hear about it. Remember that.’’ He wasn’t about to tell them he’d been eavesdropping in the hotel restaurant. Besides, whether real or perceived, the veiled threats gave him a feeling of power. ‘‘Now, tell me what occurred. I’m anxious for all the details.’’

  Rafe took a swig of his ale, set his tankard down with a thud, and leaned in toward Thurston. ‘‘I’ve been doing like you said, snooping about for any word of an uprising or hidden weapons,’’ he reported.

  ‘‘Or money,’’ Thurston added.

  ‘‘There’ve been a few stories circulating, but most of the talk seems to be among the Yanks. The tales appear to have died down, right, Jake?’’

  Jake nodded. ‘‘Word I’m hearing is there’s a handful of Yanks convinced the Irish are planning an uprising. They believe there are guns and money hidden away in the church. There are plenty of Yanks wanting the Irish run outta town, saying they can’t find work because of the Irish. Like Rafe said, there doesn’t seem to be much talk in the Acre, and if there are any rifles or money stored in the church, it’s the best-kept secret in the Paddy camp. But it don’t take a whole lot up here,’’ Jake said while pointing to his head, ‘‘to figure out the Irish ain’t got enough money to live on, let alone use it to buy rifles to stash away in that church.’’

  ‘‘As though you have a lot up here,’’ Thurston sneered, pointing to his own head. ‘‘The Catholic Church has lots of money, you fool. Don’t you think the church would finance a rebellion if it was in its best interest?’’

  ‘‘I think you’re takin’ this whole story out of proportion,’’ Rafe said. ‘‘Things have already begun to quiet down; they always do. The Irish will stay down here in the Acre except for work, and the Yanks will stay in their part of town.’’

  Thurston glared at Rafe. He sounded just like Kirk Boott, thinking the Irish belonged in Lowell. Well, he didn’t want things to settle down. The Irish were a blight on this idyllic community, and Thurston had been prophesying problems to the Boston Associates for three years. The Associates wouldn’t listen—none of them. They always sided with Kirk Boott, believing his rhetoric that the Irish were necessary—that locals didn’t want to perform manual labor. Well, it appeared the good people of New England were changing their attitude about the interlopers, and he was going to do everything in his power to prove the Irish were the problem he’d predicted. He’d see this town free of the lowlifes if it was the last thing he did.

  ‘‘The two of you listen to me. Rafe, I want you out here in the Acre talking to your Irish friends. You tell them you have it from a reliable source that the Yanks are preparing to expel them from the Acre. Tell them the Yanks want their jobs and are willing to fight for them.’’ Turning his attention toward Jake, he said, ‘‘Spread word around Lowell that the Irish are storing up arms with an eye toward a takeover of the mills.’’

  Both men stared at Thurston in disbelief. Rafe spoke first. ‘‘When I’m asked about my reliable source, whose name should I use? Yours?’’

  Jake appeared to draw courage from Rafe’s question. ‘‘I don’t care if there is some murmuring around town about money and guns in the church. Nobody is going to believe that the Irish are storing up weapons in an attempt to take over the mills. That’s the craziest thing I ever heard. Nobody in their right mind would believe they’d try such a thing. How many Irishmen are there? Only three hundred—maybe five hundred if we count the women and children? And you want me to tell people they’re gonna attempt a takeover?’’

  ‘‘The Yanks’ll think he’s daft,’’ Rafe agreed.

  ‘‘No they won’t—they’ll want to believe the story, and the gossip will feed upon itself as it spreads. I expect you both to do as you’re told—why do you think I pay you? And if you want to chart your own course, there’s always an alternative. If you no longer want to work for me, you say the word. I’ve had others leave my employ.’’

  ‘‘I didn’t say I wouldn’t do what you asked, but I know I’ll be questioned about my source,’’ Rafe replied.

  ‘‘Tell them you heard it from Hugh Cummiskey,’’ Thurston responded.

  Rafe’s eyes grew wide at Thurston’s response. ‘‘Cummiskey? I can’t use his name, Mr. Thurston.’’

  ‘‘Why? You fear him more than you fear me? If you don’t want to use Cummiskey’s name, you figure out whose name to use. Once word begins to spread, it shouldn’t take long before the fires of hostility spread,’’ Thurston said. He leaned back, took a long drink, and gave them a satisfied smile. ‘‘Yes, fear and whispered accusations should do the trick. You boys pass the word among your cronies; tell them to feel free to share the information,’’ he emphasized. ‘‘And don’t forget that I hear rumors the same as everyone else. If I haven’t heard the gossip around town, I’ll assume you’re not doing your job.’’

  Jake nervously pulled at the two-day stubble growing on his chin. ‘‘You said earlier you’ve had others leave your employ, Mr. Thurston. What if I decide that’s what I wanna do?’’

  Thurston leveled a wicked smile in Jake’s direction. ‘‘You might want to rethink that decision. No one who has quit working for me is alive.’’

  ‘‘You mean . . . Are you saying . . . Did you . . .’’ Jake stammered.

  An evil gleam shone in Thurston’s eyes. ‘‘Draw your own conclusions,’’ he replied.

  ‘‘Well, I was merely asking—I plan to remain in your employ just as long as you want me,’’ Jake replied, keeping his gaze focused on the tankard of ale before him.

  ‘‘In that case, I’ll leave you men to your work,’’ Thurston said, hoisting his ample body from the chair. ‘‘I’ll be in touch.’’ He made his way to the door and donned his hat. Squaring his shoulders, he walked out the front door, knowing the two men were watching his every move, hating him. He smiled.

  CHAPTER 16

  Daughtie had openly expressed her dismay when Bella confided her plan to attend the phrenology lecture with Taylor. This evening it was obvious that Daughtie was even more apprehensive as Bella twirled about in Lilly Cheever’s rose-colored silk gown.

  ‘‘You look like a bird prepared to take flight,’’ Daughtie said while flapping her arms up and down. ‘‘I think the dressmaker should have taken some of the fabric out of those enormous sleeves and used it in the bodice to give the gown a modicum of modesty.’’

  Bella ran a finger along the folds and cords decorating the double collars that served to widen the shoulders of the dress. ‘‘You believe the dress immodest?’’

  Daughtie appeared taken aback by the question. ‘‘Perhaps just a bit.’’

  An embroidered muslin overlay topped the double collars. Bella tugged at the muslin and bunched it over her neckline. ‘‘Is this better?’’ she asked with a giggle. ‘‘Look at the shoes Lilly gave me—and they fit ever so well,’’ she added while holding up the shoes of thin woolen cloth with a pleated frill at the top. ‘‘They lace down the back. Isn’t that clever?’’

  Daughtie sat on the bed watch
ing Bella’s every move. ‘‘The shoes are quite clever,’’ she replied. She quietly cleared her throat and then hesitated a moment. ‘‘I . . . um . . . fear you’re straying from your beliefs.’’ A note of recrimination hung in the air.

  Bella ceased tying one of the shoes and gave Daughtie a thoughtful look. ‘‘Which beliefs that were truly my own have I disavowed, Daughtie? Years ago, before my parents joined the Believers, I saw my mother and other godly, chaste women wear fashionable clothes; their religious convictions weren’t compromised. And although the Shakers don’t attend lyceums, they are quick to gather the world’s latest intelligence and discuss it among themselves. I’m merely gaining my information firsthand,’’ Bella replied. Somehow the words sounded defensive, which wasn’t her intent. Still, she didn’t want Daughtie thinking her wayward.

  Daughtie glanced at the floor and then gave Bella a sheepish grin. ‘‘You’re right, Bella. Perhaps I’m feeling a tinge of jealousy because I’ll be sitting home while you attend the lecture. Please accept my apology for acting the spoiled child.’’

  ‘‘There’s no need to apologize. We’ll attend the next lecture together—I’d much prefer your company to the pomposity of Taylor Manning. Had we known in advance, we could have purchased our own tickets like most of the other girls. Ruth told me this is the first lecture that has sold out so quickly,’’ Bella replied. ‘‘I’ll be careful to remember every word of the speech and share it with you the minute I get home.’’

  Daughtie gave her a delighted smile. ‘‘Promise?’’

  ‘‘Promise!’’ Bella said, pulling her friend into a quick hug before picking up her hairbrush.

  ‘‘Let me,’’ Daughtie said as she reached for the brush. ‘‘I think I can fashion your hair in the looped braids that appear popular with the society ladies,’’ she said, parting Bella’s hair down the center.

  A short time later, Bella gazed into the oval mirror. ‘‘It looks lovely, Daughtie,’’ Bella said, touching the tightly formed braids her friend had woven with ivory ribbon and looped on each side. She turned and gave Daughtie a hug. ‘‘Thank you, dear friend.’’